Game On(12)

“No, it’s—” She lowered her head, blonde curls falling into her face. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not at all,” I said. “I’m a journalist. I have a nose for these things.” I didn’t think it was necessary to mention that if anyone looked through her photos and saw that roughly half of them were of the catcher and all of them were incredibly flattering, then yes, it would be totally obvious that Mandy had a crush on this guy.

“He’s just a friend.” Mandy put the camera in her lap.

“He’s really cute,” I told her.

“He’s Nathan’s best friend.” Mandy looked over at me. “You should probably interview him if you’re doing a piece on Nathan.”

“I will.” I made a note to do exactly that. “Thanks.”

We were both silent for a moment, looking out onto the field.

“He likes you,” Mandy said abruptly.

“Who?” I glanced over at her.

She nodded out towards the field. “Nathan. He likes you.”

I couldn’t ignore the thrill I felt in hearing that. Not that it was important. He didn’t really need to like me, he needed to respect me. Trust me. “But will he let me interview him?” I asked. I had to stay focused. His fond feelings towards me weren’t what mattered at the end of the day. Getting the story was what mattered.

Mandy shrugged. “That depends. What are you hoping to find here? A scandal? Some deep, dark secret to reveal to the world? Because there’s none of that where Nathan is concerned. He’s a nice guy. A really good guy.”

“That’s what I want to write about,” I said. And it was true. I wasn’t the paparazzi, I was a serious journalist. “I think he’s a nice guy too. And that’s what I want to show the rest of the world.” Or just people who read the Register.

Mandy looked at me and I couldn’t tell if she believed me.

“I swear,” I raised my hand solemnly. “I swear on my computer. The one I earned by working the closing shift for almost six months.”

She smiled at that. “Well, if you swear on your computer.” She quirked an eyebrow in the direction of the field. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Before I could thank her, though, my stomach let out a horrifyingly loud growl. “Sorry,” I said, slapping a hand over my tummy. “I skipped breakfast.”

Mandy looked at her phone. “And lunch too,” she pointed out. It was well past two.

“No wonder.” Suddenly all I could think about was food. I needed to eat something or I would die. I glanced over at her. “I don’t suppose you could join me for a late lunch?” I asked. “Tell me more about the team. And Nathan?” I added hopefully.

She smiled. “How do you feel about tacos?”





Chapter Five


Mandy took me to a place called Taco Flats and we ordered enough tacos to feed at least half the baseball team. Even though her stomach had remained silent, the way we both attacked our food when it arrived revealed that she had just been as hungry as I was.

I felt a little bad skipping the rest of practice to hang out with Mandy, but I told myself that I could use this opportunity to get to know her better—and hopefully Nathan as well. If he wouldn’t open up to me, then maybe she would.

“How long have you known Nathan?” I asked as we started on our second round of tacos.

“Since freshman year,” she told me. “I was the sports photographer at my high school and started going to games to get shots to show the editor here. Took a while before they started using my work, but I had gotten to know the guys pretty well by then. Baseball is my favorite.”

“Mine too,” I confessed. “I used to watch MLB with my best friend from high school. He loved the Dodgers? but I’m loyal to my hometown. Astros all the way.”

Mandy laughed and pulled out a notebook that had an Astros sticker on it. “I had a feeling I liked you,” she said. “Even though baseball’s big here, I haven’t been able to find a lot of female friends that are obsessed with it like I am. I tend to spend most of my time with the team and the girls I meet usually just want me to introduce them to the guys. Which is fine,” she shrugged. “But not great for making friends.”

“I know what you mean,” I said. “My ex-boyfriend was in a band. Lots of girls wanted to hang just to get to his band mates. And him too, I guess.” I tried to smile and failed.

Mandy gave me a knowing look. “So how long have you been a member of the single-ladies-with-shitty-ex-boyfriends club?”

“As of last night,” I confessed.

“Ugh. Girl.” Mandy flagged down a waiter. “We need a couple strong margaritas,” she told him, before looking at me. “Right?”

I grinned. “Right.”

Two margaritas later I was outlining every single dirty detail of my six-month relationship with Nick.

“And he could never get it up!” I told her. “First three months? Great. Hot and heavy. Then he moves in with me and suddenly, pfft!” I threw up my hands. “Nothing! At first it was fine, you know, that happens, but then it just kept happening. So I suggested he stop smoking pot for a while. Or drinking. Or try something different, but noooooooo. He needed it for the music.” I sighed. “I guess I wasn’t as important as his drug use or his music career.”