On the Fence(41)

Evan made it past Braden’s legs just fine as we walked down the aisle to exit the row, but I knocked into one knee, nearly tripping, and couldn’t maneuver around his other. Evan looked back, still holding my hand. I shot Braden a look and he played innocent. I stepped hard on his foot. “Oh, sorry, was that your foot?”

He sucked in air and finally pulled his legs back.

It ended up being a good thing that Braden had outed me (not that I’d thank him anytime soon), because then we talked about things besides baseball. We talked about school and how he wanted to be a financial advisor when he grew up, like his dad. Now, finances were something I knew little to nothing about, so I had all sorts of questions for him. After a while, I said, “Yeah, you lost me when you got into that short-selling-a-stock thing. No idea what you’re talking about.”

He laughed, and I noticed how amazing it made his eyes look, all lit up like that.

“What’s your favorite sport?” I asked.

“To watch or play?”

“Both, I guess.”

“I don’t know if this counts as a sport to you, but I love to wakeboard.”

“Totally counts. That’s awesome. So you have a boat?”

“My dad does. He lets us take it out sometimes. Do you ski or wakeboard?”

“I’ve been a few times, but I’m not very good.”

“We should go. I’ll give you some pointers.”

“That would be really fun. Maybe we could take my brothers. I think you’d like them.” And they’d be super impressed if he was good at wakeboarding.

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll plan it.” He hadn’t let go of my hand as we walked around the concession level of the stadium, where they sold nachos, hot dogs, Dippin’ Dots, and waffle cones. It felt nice, not even clammy or anything. “Do you want anything to eat?” he asked.

“No, I’m good.”

He sighed. “I don’t think Braden likes me very much.”

“Braden is an idiot,” I said. “And he likes you just fine. I think it was me that he was trying to prove a point to.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was jealous.

“He really looks nothing like you.”

“Oh. He’s not my brother. I’m sorry, I should’ve clarified that. He’s my neighbor. But I’ve known him for twelve years, so I claim him as a brother, and he’s just as annoying as one, so it works out well.”

“Oh.” He glanced toward where our seats were, as if he could see Braden from here. “Your neighbor.”

Evan had a weird expression on his face that I couldn’t place.

“Should we head back? The game’s almost over,” I said, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah.”



When we were almost home, Braden said, “So, Evan, what are you doing in the morning?”

“Uh . . . nothing.”

“Do you like to play football? It’s just a pickup game. We play at nine at the park up the street from our houses.”

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Ohhh!” Amber squealed. “Do you go, Charlie?”

I nodded, silently seething over the invite.

She grabbed hold of Braden’s arm. “Can I come too?”

“Yeah, sure,” Braden said. “It’s tackle.”

I rolled my eyes. Amber wasn’t asking to play. She was asking to watch.



Evan hugged me good-bye, and then I watched as he drove away, followed shortly by Amber in her car. Braden and I stood side by side as her taillights disappeared around the corner.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

I took a deliberate step away from him. “What?”

“You pretending like you knew nothing about baseball?”

“That was me being a good date.”

He grunted and got that typical look he got when someone said something stupid—chin drawn down, eyes on the verge of rolling. “Really? Because it seemed like that was you playing dumb.”

“Whatever. That didn’t mean you had to go and do that.”

“Do what?”

“Invite him tomorrow.”

“Your brothers wanted to meet him. They texted me.” He held up his phone, as if that should make me feel better.

I tried to calm down by drawing a deep breath.

“Why are you so mad?” I wasn’t a fan of the fact that he could read me so well in that moment.

“Because you just took one of my favorite things away from me.”

“I haven’t taken anything away from you.”

My chest was tight and I had an overwhelming desire to punch him. “I can’t play tomorrow. I’ll have to sit on the sidelines, cheering you on.”

“Why would you have to do that? You’re an awesome football player.”

“Because, Braden, Evan will be there.”

He put on a rare angry face. “If you can’t be yourself around him, then you shouldn’t be dating him.”

I laughed a low mocking laugh. “Oh, yeah, be myself. Tackle guys, fall in the mud, score touchdowns, that’s real appealing to guys.”

“It is to some guys.”

“Really, Braden? Who? Tell me! Because I’ve been playing sports with the same ten guys for the last five years of my life and never has one of them hit on me, let alone asked me out. Not one! Do you think any of them see me as someone they would date? Of course they don’t. They see me as—let me see, what were the terms you guys used at disc golf the other day? Oh, that’s right—a big, burly girl. If they want someone to date, they go to the mall or the club and find a girl who wears tight clothes and does her nails and giggles at their jokes.