Game On(11)

Mandy let out a low whistle. “Well,” she said, looking out towards the field. “Good luck with that.”

***

A few hours later, I was starving, covered in sweat, dying of thirst, and doing my best not to rush the field and leap onto Nathan each time he bent over to pick up a bat. Since when was I so intent on playing grab-ass with a guy I barely knew? Clearly I was starting to get loopy in the heat—yeah, let’s blame my X-rated thoughts on the heat—and I began to wonder how long practice was going to go for.

The heat had even proved too much for most of the fans. Mandy and I were the only ones sticking it out in the scorching sun, despite the brilliant display of masculinity taking the field. At least we had my growling stomach to keep us company. It had not shut up for a least an hour.

“Here.” Mandy leaned forward and dug through her bag, coming up with a cold bottle of water. “You look like you could use it.”

We had been sitting in companionable silence (except for my stomach, which she politely ignored) while she took pictures and I read over my notes on Nathan, but damn it if she didn’t have an instinct for being helpful. This whole situation would have been a billion times less fun (and probably more frustrating) if I had been sitting out there by myself, especially considering the daggers some of the girls had been throwing with their eyes. If they had been real I would have been dead a thousand times over. But I would have died pretty darn happy considering my glorious view. I placed the cold water bottle against my throat and smiled at Mandy.

“Nice camera,” I said as I took a long drink.

“Thanks.” She patted it. “Took two part time jobs, about a million night shifts and working half a dozen holidays to get it.”

“That sounds like me and my computer,” I told her. It had taken a really long time to buy my beloved laptop and now I guarded it with the ferocity comparable only to mother bears and their cubs.

Mandy tested the camera’s heft in her hands. “She’s my baby,” she said. “I even sleep with her on the pillow next to mine.”

“That must get crowded,” I said, half wanting to just ask if she was also sharing her bed with Nathan, but she had been rather kind to me and I didn’t want to ruin any goodwill that had been created between us.

“Not currently,” she shrugged. “Just me and my baby.” Mandy gave it an affectionate smile before lifting it to take more photos. I saw her shoot me a sideways look. “I’m not sleeping with Nathan, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

Dammit. I was annoyed at myself for being so unsubtle. Usually I was a little better at getting information out of others, but I had clearly been off my game since arriving in Austin.

“It’s not any of my business.” I tried to backtrack, not wanting to seem like I was digging for information, though that was exactly what I should have been doing. But any interest I had in this particular piece of information was strictly personal, though I knew my editor would want me to include it in my article.

“Mmhmmm.” She seemed to say that a lot. And didn’t say anything more.

I clearly wasn’t going to get much information out of her this way, so I decided to stop studying my notes and take a moment to study her. My mom had always told me that you can learn all you need to know about someone if you just know how to look for it.

Even if she hadn’t said anything about her camera, if I had been paying attention I would have been able to tell it was a precious item just from the way she was holding it. She was clearly confident in the shots she was trying to get. I could tell that she was still getting used to it, as she occasionally needed to stop and check out some of the settings. And she held it with an overly firm hand. Her knuckles were white from holding it tightly. This was something that was important to her.

I also would have been able to tell that it was something she had saved for. While the camera was new, the camera bag was definitely not. It was old and frayed—clearly had been inexpertly repaired many times over.

“How often do you come to practices?” I asked.

“Whenever they tell me to.” She pulled out a badge from her bag and showed it to me. She looked ever younger in her picture with her curly hair pulled back. Adorable, of course, but there was that focus in her eyes that I admired. A focus that was evident in my own photo on the press badge currently in my purse. “I take pictures for the university paper.”

“Can I see some?” I could see her reluctance to hand her camera over to me and I couldn’t blame her. I barely trusted myself with my computer, let alone a near stranger. “I’ll be very careful.” I placed a hand over my heart as a promise. “I swear.”

It was a heavy camera, but I kept a firm, respectful grasp on it as I began to scan through her photos. They were good. Really good. Mandy had an amazing eye for not just action, but emotion. She knew when to shoot wide and when to go in close.

“Who’s this guy?” I asked, pointing to one of the players—number 24—who appeared to be in the majority of her pictures. I glanced out on the field, looking for the same guy and found him standing next to Nathan. He wasn’t as tall as the star player, but he was definitely as built. Those uniforms really were a gift from the gods.

“That’s Chris,” she said. “He’s the catcher.”

“He’s cute,” I said, watching her face for a reaction. Bingo, she went instantly red and reached for her camera. I handed it back to her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep.”