The Lineup(112)

“You ready, Orson?” Cory asks, gripping my shoulder. “Nervous?”

“Pfft, never.”

Over spring training, I grew close with Cory, not just because his brother-in-law is one of my best friends, but because we both grew up Bobbies fans and now play for the rival team. It’s easy to sit under his leadership, seeing the work he puts in every day, and I understand why he’s as great as he is. He never gets too big for his head. He never thinks he’s the greatest, but that he needs to be catching up, putting in extra time, waking up early, hitting the weight room one last time before going to bed. His work ethic is impeccable and something I’ve started to replicate.

Thankfully Dottie can work anywhere, so when I went to Florida for spring training, she came with me. I spend as much time with her as possible when I’m not on the ball field, and she’s understanding because we both get it. Having drive, goals . . . it’s what makes us both thrive.

And one of the best things that’s happened since we got back together is that she’s helped run Natalie through her Boss Babe program, giving Natalie much more confidence to make the decisions she needs to make for The Lineup and confidence in life. They’ve grown pretty close, and I’m happy about that. She needs someone more than ever right now, someone that will help lift her up, rather than drag her down like Ansel. The fuckhead.

“I’m not talking about the game,” Cory says. “I’m talking about the proposal.”

“Oh.” I chuckle and shake my head. “Nah, my girl loves me, she’s going to say yes.”

I stand and stick the ring box in my back pocket. We organized for her to throw out the first pitch to me as an inauguration for my first season as a Rebel. When I told the front office that I wanted to propose to my girlfriend on the field, they couldn’t have been more ecstatic. Feel-good stories like these go viral and any leg up they can have on the Bobbies is something they’re interested in.

They orchestrated the entire proposal, setting up a false inauguration day for me.

We head out to the field where I spot Dottie in the dugout wearing one of my jerseys and looking so goddamn adorable, that when I gravitate toward her, I pull her into a hug. I press a kiss to her ear and say, “Just like we practiced. Focus on me and throw.”

“I know. I know,” she says, sounding nervous.

We’ve been practicing for the last week and she’s really got it down, but you never know what’s going to happen when she throws the ball while a packed stadium watches. I assured her no matter what happens, the fans will love her because she’s mine, and everyone loves Jason Orson. Can you imagine the epic eye-roll and “you’re ridiculous” I received from that?

Yes, it’s true, the Rebel fans have taken a liking to me.

I think it’s from THE towel picture . . .

“Just don’t short-hop me like you did on Monday.”

She chuckles. “Wouldn’t dream of catching you in your ‘nuggets’ again.”

“Thank you, witty wench.” I press one more kiss to her lips and then take off toward my spot behind the plate. The announcer introduces me to the Rebels as the new starting catcher, and the crowd erupts. God, I’m so popular. It was definitely THE towel picture.

Then the announcer introduces Dottie, who receives a warm reception as well. The field assistant walks her out to the designated spot in front of the mound and hands her a ball.

I make the most important squat of my life and watch as my girl cutely lifts her leg like a pitcher and delivers a strike straight into my glove. The fans cheer loudly for her, and now it’s my time.

Ball and glove in hand, I jog up to her, and then kneel down on one knee. Very comfortable in this position, and I bet there are many lenses focused in on my juicy shelf. Her eyes go wide as I set my glove down with the ball and then reach into my back pocket. The stadium cheers louder than before, as all my guys line up on the foul line, whopping it up for one of their own.

Taking a deep breath, I bring her hand to mine and hold the ring box open to her. Her free hand falls to her mouth, and I try to make her hear me over the stadium noise.

“Dorothy Domico, I couldn’t imagine another day without officially calling you mine. You’re the girl meant for me. Rough around the edges, makes me work for a smile, but has the sweetest, kindest soul I’ve ever met. You’re a classic contradiction of love and hate, loving me every day with your beautiful heart, hating on me with the rolling of your eyes at my jokes. I don’t want to take another breath without you by my side. Be mine forever. Will you marry me?”

She nods, tears spilling from her eyes. I slip the ring on her shaking hand and then scoop her up. Her legs wrap around my waist and she grips my cheeks. “Oh my God,” she cries. “Jason . . . oh my God.”

I laugh and kiss her as the crowd yells. The announcer congratulates me, fireworks are shot off, and Bruno Mars’s “Marry You” plays on the speakers as I twirl my girl on my new turf, starting the season off right.

My team joins us on the field along with Dottie’s parents, Lindsay, and Emory. They give us hugs, congratulations, and a montage of our relationship is played on the mega-tron.

It’s a goddamn romantic comedy out here and guess what? I’M. HERE. FOR. IT!

I’m so fucking here for it.

In the midst of the chaos, Dottie brings her lips to my ear and says, “You’re ridiculous. But I love you so much, Jason. Forever and always.”