Page 109 of Tagging Bases

The whole gang being here makes this moment extra special. Half the time, it still seems unreal that I’m living in New York City, about to pitch for my favorite team, and sharing a home with Harrison and Daniel.

Daniel’s been excelling on Wall Street, going from manager-in-training to CFO faster than you can say “swing and a miss.” As for Harrison, that guy’s even more of a wildcard lately.

He sneaks out at all hours to tag the city with his graffiti, and when he texts us that he’s running from the cops? Heart attack central. Daniel and I lose it every time, imagining him in some dingy cell while we’re left to break the bad news to Danielle.

I refocus on the game as the national anthem wraps up, and the crowd erupts into cheers. The announcer’s voice booms through the stadium, introducing players with a dramatic flair that would put most Broadway productions to shame. I take a deep breath and scan the sea of faces once more, experiencing that familiar rush of excitement mixed with about a thousand volts of nervous energy.

But then I remind myself that the sun is shining, my friends and family are cheering, and I’m wearing pinstripes instead of a pink mankini. What more could a farm boy ask for?

The game ends,and we’re the proud owners of another victory. My hair’s still damp when I throw on a new Yankees jersey and sprint out of the stadium.

“Taxi!” I holler, waving my arm desperately.

A cab screeches to a stop, and I dive in, giving the driver the address of the gallery in Brooklyn. Every red light feels like it’s conspiring against me. When we finally pull up outside, I’m amazed, but not at all surprised, to see a line that stretches halfway down the block. It’s packed inside too.

“Charlie!” a voice calls out from somewhere in the chaos when I step through the doors. I whip my head around, realizing I know that voice. As I push people out of the way, the voice calls my name again. That’s when I see her.

Olivia.

She’s glowing, wearing an outfit that reminds me of the days of yore. There’s also a ring on her finger that wasn’t there when I last saw her two years ago at the Kappa Sig party.

“Hey!” I say, giving her a hug that’s awkward because I’m still damp from my shower. “Engaged already?”

She laughs, rolling her eyes affectionately. “You know me—never waste any time.”

And then I notice it. Her stomach.

“Whoa,” I choke out, my tongue tripping over itself. “You’re pregnant! Does Daniel know?”

She nods. “I made him think it was his. He figured it out once he realized the math wasn’t mathing.”

I’m about to ask more—who’s the lucky guy and how did he propose?—when someone jostles me from behind, reminding me that the clock is ticking. I give her one last incredulous look before diving back into the ocean of people.

The place is as incredible as ever—massive canvases hang from the ceiling, and sprawling murals turn every wall into a chaotic masterpiece. I spot Daniel, Roy, and Coach Bryant sitting in the front row. I take the last seat left, smiling at my brother and Coach, and kissing Daniel right on the lips.

Danielle steps up to the podium and taps the microphone to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming to our new exhibit,” she says, her smile as wide as I’ve ever seen it. “Tonight, we celebrate an evening of graffiti art made by my wonderfully talented employeeandbest friend. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…Harrison Price!”

The crowd erupts in applause—not snaps, thank goodness—as Harrison steps forward. His blue eyes scan the room with arebellious twinkle, and I swear he’s staring right at me and Daniel when he starts talking.

“Thanks for showing up,” Harrison says. “While I could talk ad nauseam about all the artwork hanging around the room, I’m not going to. Instead, I want to tell you about this piece behind me.” He points to the curtain that no doubt hides something epic. “I’ve had this specific image in mind for a couple of years now, ever since two amazing men waltzed into my life with everything on display—literally. Knowing them has been a ride that I never want to get off. They’ve taught me to stay true to myself, my beliefs, and my convictions. But most of all, they’ve shown me unconditional love. Without further ado…”

My heart thumps, trying to break free from my chest as he tugs on the curtain’s cord with a dramatic flourish. The velvet fabric falls to the floor, and everyone collectively gasps.

It’s me, Daniel, and Harrison walking down the street outside with the Brooklyn Bridge behind us, and a setting sun.

The mural is massive, featuring bold and vibrant colors. It’s as if Harrison took every shade in the universe and used them to create this masterpiece. Reds and blues, greens and purples, yellows and oranges—the colors of the rainbow. There’s so much movement and life in it that I find myself dizzy just staring at it.

And even though the piece is larger than life, he’s painted us in perfect detail. I see Daniel’s cocky smile and my look of total badassery.

My chest aches with a mix of happiness and disbelief. Harrison knew exactly what he was doing when he made this. I glance over at Daniel to see that he’s as speechless as I am.

“Your boy’s good,” Roy deadpans, snapping a photo on his phone.

Harrison steps back from the mural, his face lit up with a grin that’s half triumphant rebel, half excited kid showing off a new toy. Danielle claps her hands together so fast that they’re nothing more than a blur.

“This is insane,” I say, studying the mural.

“And totally Harrison,” Daniel adds, shaking his head in disbelief.

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