The crack of the bat echoes throughout the stadium, pulling her attention. Jeffrey Jennings just hit a home run for the Blaze. This has Paisley jumping out of her seat and thrusting her hands in the air as she cheers. She begins to high-five the people sitting in front of us and behind us. They’re all talking and celebrating like they’re old friends, and I can’t help but be envious. I want to be the one celebrating with her.
She takes her seat, and our arms brush each other on the armrest. She’s quick to pull away, and I have to force myself not to reach over into her lap and lace her fingers with mine. With the softness of her skin against the roughness of mine, she’s a perfect fit. I bite back a laugh. I’m being ridiculous. It’s as if one look from this beauty and my world has been tipped upside down.
“Come on!” Paisley calls out.
My eyes travel to the screen to watch the replay. The first baseman, a veteran, John Hastings, missed a line drive that should have landed straight in his glove. Instead, the ball bounced off his glove and rolled right, and all three runners advanced. It was a play he should have had in the bag, but he’s getting slower. If I’m being honest, he’s been slow for a while. That’s a part of the reason I’m here today. To take a look at the team, and first base in particular. It’s a position that the Blaze needs to fill. In fact, since losing All-Star first baseman Easton Monroe, the Blaze has been lacking in that position.
“He should have had that,” Paisley mutters, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Just ignore her,” Willow says, leaning over Paisley to talk to me. “She takes her baseball seriously.”
“Nothing wrong with being passionate about something,” I reply. Both women turn to look at me, and I shrug. I have a passion for baseball as well. I also have a passion for the brown-eyed beauty sitting next to me.
Speaking of those brown eyes, I need to see them. Reaching over, I push her sunglasses down on her nose. “There they are,” I say, my voice soft.
“What are you doing?”
“I needed to see your eyes.” She meets my stare for several heartbeats. It’s not until Willow interrupts does she break our connection and look away.
“Look!” Willow points at the jumbo-sized screen closest to our seats.
I don’t want to pull my gaze away from Paisley, but I don’t want to be a dick to her best friend, either. Not if I plan on seeing her again. My eyes follow to where Willow is pointing. I glance at the screen and see that we’re on the kiss cam. I can’t stop the grin that tilts my lips when I look back at Paisley. “What do you say?” I ask her. My voice is light, hiding the fact that I want to kiss her.
“Oh.” Her cheeks pinken. “We don’t have to. I mean, we don’t know each other.” The rise and fall of her chest and the way that she licks her lips tells me she’s just being polite. She wants to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss her.
“P, it’s the kiss cam, and you would literally be kissing Cam,” Willow points out.
“She has a point. My friends do call me Cam.” My smile grows.
“We don’t have to,” she says again. She says the words, but she leans in, just a fraction of an inch, but I see it, and I plan to give us both what we want.
I lean in close, blocking out the world around us. “What do you say, Paisley? Can I kiss you?” She swallows hard and gives me a subtle nod. That’s the only invitation I need. Turning my ball cap backward, I slide my hand behind her neck and move her mouth closer to mine. Her breath hitches just before my lips touch hers, and I feel that sound all the way to my cock.
I take my time, softly pressing my lips against hers. They’re softer than I imagined them to be. I nip at her bottom lip, and she gasps, opening for me. All bets are off when I slide my tongue past her lips, tasting her for the first time.
My free hand cradles her cheek as I allow myself to get lost in her. I kiss her slow and deep, taking my time. I have no idea if I’ll ever get this chance again, and I’m taking it. What’s that saying you miss 100 percent of the shots you never take? No way do I want to leave this stadium today with regrets, and not kissing Paisley would be the biggest of my life to date.
When I start to hear clapping and yells of encouragement, I know I have to pull away from her, but I don’t know if I can. I kiss her a few more times, soft pecks against her lips, before drawing my head back to look at her. Her sunglasses are once again covering her eyes, but I can see the tint to her cheeks and the way she seems to be struggling to take a deep breath. I recognize the signs because I’m a victim of the same symptoms.
“Wow!” Willow says, breaking our trance.
Paisley sits back in her seat and stares out onto the field. I can’t get a read on her. I don’t know what she’s thinking. “Hey.” I lean in close and whisper in her ear, “You okay?”
“Sure,” she says, not bothering to look at me.
“Sure” from a woman means the exact opposite. “Paisley?” I wait for her to look at me, but she never does. Something that feels a lot like panic rises in my chest. The last thing I want is for her to be pissed at me. She kissed me back. We were both willing participants.
“Oh, look at that replay.” Willow points at the screen once again.
I can’t resist as I turn my head and watch as my lips mold with hers. She pulls on my shirt, something I missed during the actual event. Reaching over, I lace her fingers with mine, giving them a gentle squeeze as I keep my eyes focused on the screen. The person running the camera nailed it. They caught the most passionate kiss of my life. I give myself a mental pat on the back that I am recording the game at home. This way, I can watch it over and over and over again. Not that I won’t be able to remember it vividly. A kiss like that, with the buzz around the stadium, I’m sure we’ll make the blogs and even YouTube before we make it out of the parking lot.
For the remainder of the game, the three of us are quiet. Unless it’s to yell about a play or cheer on the Blaze, none of us says a word. She lets me hold her hand the entire time. I can only imagine what my mom is thinking. I know she’s at home watching. She wanted to see if they would show me on camera in the stands. She’s going to see the kiss and me holding this beautiful woman’s hand and think that I’ve been hiding her away.
The truth is, if Paisley were mine, I’d never hide her away. I’d scream it from the fucking rooftops that she was my girl. That’s saying something because I haven’t had a girlfriend since high school. Not once I figured out every girl I dated was using me as a ticket out of our small-town Georgia life. College was the same, but I was smarter about it. I didn’t date, and I still don’t. You know, keeping your eye on the prize and all that. The prize being my career.
At the bottom of the ninth, the Blaze are up by two, and the bases are loaded. Paisley squeezes my hand, and the Tomahawks hitter steps up to the plate for his final hit. One more strike, and he’s out, leaving the Blaze the victors. The pitch is thrown, and the umpire calls out strike again. Paisley jumps from her seat, as does Willow, and they dance around. I watch in fascination as she high-fives everyone around us again. I stand to join them in their celebration, and I’m not disappointed when she turns to face me and launches herself into my arms for a hug.