Page 84 of Romance Is Dead

A wicked look spread across Teddy’s face as he surely bit back a snarky comment. “Deal.” He hopped off the bed and reached out his hand to help me up. “Let’s go.”

The field was only five minutes away, a little diamond tucked behind an elementary school on the edge of town. A single light was on above home plate, illuminating the bases and casting deep shadows into both the outfield and the dugouts. Tiptoeing onto the field, knowing we shouldn’t be there, made me feel like I was back in high school—sneaking out after my parents were asleep and feeling that rush of freedom with an undercurrent of risk.

Although the risk here was, admittedly, pretty low. A slap on the wrist by local police was nothing compared to Puzzle Face himself looming in the doorway as you made your way back home at two in the morning.

“If we get caught, I’m letting you go down for this,” Teddy said, like he was reading my thoughts. “I’m not ruining my pristine record for a game of catch.”

“Pristine record?” I hopped into one of the dugouts, looking for a spare ball. “Lame.”

“Just means I haven’t gotten caught.” He bent down and peered at me through the fence separating the field from the dugout, one eyebrow raised. “You’re saying you do have a record?”

“Well, no.”

“Lame.”

“Touché.” Grinning, I knelt in the dirt and ran my hand under the bench until my fingers brushed something round and smooth. “Found one!”

“I see a bat over there.” Teddy jogged toward home plate as I headed to the pitcher’s mound.

“I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty amazing at baseball.” I scuffed the plate with my foot, making a show out of getting into position.

“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”

“Tony Todd taught me when I was a kid. He guest-starred in one of the Puzzle Face movies.”

“Wait, the guy who played Candyman?”

“The one and only.”

Teddy shook his head as he choked up on the bat. “We had very different childhoods.”

I grinned. “Alright, slugger.” I wound my arm back, waiting. “You ready?”

Teddy tapped the bat on home plate. “Let ’er rip.”

I wound my arm back and lobbed the ball gently toward home plate. It sailed perfectly toward Teddy, who. . . missed it completely.

“Aw, come on,” I cracked. “I lined that up for you perfectly.” But Teddy’s mouth remained a grim line and he tightened his grip on the bat as he stared at his shoes. Even from where I stood, far away, I could sense his shoulders tightening and his jaw clenching. Maybe it wasn’t time for jokes.

I grabbed the ball once again and tossed it as gently as I could. Once again, Teddy missed.

“Third time’s a charm.” This time, Teddy’s bat made direct contact with the ball. It wasn’t the strongest hit, but it went a few yards before skidding toward third plate.

“Woohoo!” I threw my hands in the air and cheered, jumping up and down in celebration. “You did it! Watch out, Hank Aaron! That’s a baseball player, right?”

“Shh, you’re gonna get us kicked out.” But his face still broke out into a grin, and he jauntily sent the bat twirling into the air before catching it again.

We practiced for another twenty minutes, with Teddy steadily improving until we were confident that even if he wasn’t ready to try out for any baseball teams, he’d at least be able to handle the scene the next day. He even hit the last ball so far that it sailed into the outfield. Ready to call it a night, I jogged off to retrieve it.

After plucking the ball out of the grass, I tipped my head to the sky. The night was startlingly bright—the moon big and beaming, the stars sparkling across the atmosphere. I never got to experience moments like this. LA didn’t have these kinds of views for one, but I was also always so busy flitting either to and from sets and studios or on the way to one event or another. It was nice, enjoying the quiet like that. I sprawled onto the grass, taking it in. Maybe I could move to an area like this, where I could see the stars every night.

Footsteps swished in the grass behind me.

“You disappeared.” Teddy stopped at my side, tilting his head to take in the sight. “Damn, that’s a beautiful view.” And then, he lay down next to me, tucking his arms behind his head.

“It is beautiful.”

“Too pretty not to memorialize.” He outstretched his arm, his phone camera facing us. “If that’s ok?”

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