America's Geekheart (Bro Code #2)(78)

That’s not a burger, but I do love seeing those pretty eyes. Where are you? Do you need me to order fried cheese sticks for delivery? Or I could send naan. I sucked up bigtime at that place down the street between meetings this afternoon.

Alicia, the lady leading paint night, taps a brush on her easel to call us all to attention. “Good evening, ladies. We’re so thrilled to have you here. Who’s ready to get started?”

“Are you texting with him?” Mackenzie hisses. “Should’ve been doing that when the Fireballs were playing this afternoon.”

“I was at work this afternoon,” I hiss back.

She grins. “Okay, yeah, I wouldn’t have wanted you to get fired for being indecent.”

“Ew,” Ellie whispers on my other side.

“So, ladies, let’s begin with your big brush. This one here.” Alicia holds up a brush with thick bristles. “And dip it in your blue paint to get started on the background.”

We dutifully begin painting the deep purple-blue background above the penciled-out shape of the ballpark on our canvases.

I squint at my canvas.

Mackenzie sighs. “Just once, Sarah?”

“But it’s a Pikachu when you squint and look at it sideways.” I gesture to the rounded edges of the bleachers. “Or maybe a Pac-Man ghost, if you add some more legs. Or whatever those swishy things are that count as their legs.”

Ellie looks at me.

Mrs. Ryder looks at me.

Mackenzie sighs deeply again as she goes back to painting her background, and my mom raises her hand. “What I if I want to paint this as Dodger Stadium?”

“Oh, of course, Ms. Darling,” Alicia gushes. “We encourage freedom of expression here.”

“See?” I murmur to Mackenzie. “Freedom of expression.”

I grab a pencil and modify the shape on my canvas.

Ellie and Mrs. Ryder share a look.

Mackenzie reaches for her wine.

And when they’re all distracted, I pull my phone out, because it’s buzzed with at least three more messages from Beck.

I miss those pretty eyes.

How much longer are you going to be? Do you like pool? Or air hockey? I can whip up a trophy sundae and we can play for rights to lick it off each other’s bodies.

Sarah? Shit. We don’t have to lick anything if you don’t want to. And your dad is giving me a death glare again like he knows I’m trying to sext you, so if you could just ignore that last text until you can get here and save me from him and his rabid pig, that would be awesome. And then we can…you know. In person. If you’re free after you’re busy. I’ll be here all night.

“That’s a massive text,” Mackenzie says, and I jump and drop my phone, then spill my rinse water when I dive for it before Ellie can see what all her brother’s text says.

Everyone leaps up to help me, but they’re all grinning.

Even my mom, who prefers to smile benevolently and graciously rather than grin, which isn’t at all what Hollywood producers are looking for in matronly roles these days.

“If you can handle how much Beck talks, then we’re never letting you go,” Ellie says.

“He is rather verbose for a male of the species, but charmingly so,” his mom concedes, as if I haven’t already decided I love her. “He just loves people.”

“Was that all a set-up?” Alicia asks. “That tweet to you? I mean, that apology video was utterly adorable. You had to have been planning it for weeks, right? This is just a Hollywood play because he’s about to announce a new fashion line or something, right?”

“Alicia,” Mrs. Ryder says, very calmly and with a smile that rivals some that my mom’s used while eviscerating a reporter or two over the years, “are you going to teach us to paint Duggan Field, or do we need to find another instructor?”

“Oh. Yes, ma’am. Although I’m still a proud card-carrying member of the Bro Code Sweethearts, and I was really glad when he apologized because I didn’t want to have to hate him. Let’s continue painting the background on our baseball park…”

“I haven’t been to a Fireballs game in ages,” Ellie says as I finish mopping up my mess with another of the staff’s help and everyone else gets back to the painting.

“We should go!” Mackenzie’s bouncing and in danger of spilling her rinse water and her wine now. “I have two season tickets,” she adds in a loud whisper, like if she doesn’t intentionally contain herself, the people four blocks over will hear too, because I know she’s been waiting for the right moment to shout it from the rooftops. “I mean, Sarah, you’re okay with me taking other people on occasion, right? Even if the Fireballs win while I’m taking someone else, that won’t mean you’re not good luck.”

I wave my brush. “By all means, spread the love.”

“You knew he was going to do that, didn’t you?” she whispers.

“He may have mentioned it.”

“That’s bribery. And it’s working.”

Ellie snicker-snorts into her wine glass, and Mrs. Ryder looks back at us with an indulgent smile.

“I love this shade of midnight,” my mom announces. “It reminds me of a few producers’ black hearts. Alicia, what is that painting? I can’t decide if it’s a duck or a Ferris wheel.”