Page 34 of The Perfect Game

As I pulled on my black slacks I kept for events like this, I laughed when I saw the bottoms reaching at least three inches above my ankles. Hurrying into my mom and dad’s room, I found her in the master bath, curling her hair. “Um, I think we have a problem. I’m just not going to be able to work tonight. I wouldn’t want your company to be criticized for their attire.”

She turned and looked down the length of my body, chuckling when she saw the flood pants. “Har-har. You’re in luck because I figured you’d probably need some new ones at some point.” After a few steps into the master closet, she pulled out a pair identical to the ones I was wearing.

I raised an eyebrow, knowing something wasn’t right. “When was it you found out you’d be short-staffed?” I leaned up against the doorframe to the bathroom, staring at her for an answer.

“Well, yesterday Barb mentioned we didn’t have enough servers, so I got some pants when I bought the food for tonight. You were so excited about your date last night that I didn’t want to ruin anything.” She picked up her curling iron again, twisting a piece of hair around it. “Speaking of the date, how did it go…besides the cut? Serena’s a nice girl.”

I searched her face, looking for any sign of a lie. All I saw was sincerity.

“I messed it all up, Mom. I really like her, and I’m sure she now wonders why she went out with me in the first place.” Anxiety welled up in my chest, and I swallowed hard, the mound in my throat making it difficult.

My mom set her curling iron back on the counter and walked over, pulling me into a hug. If I hadn’t been so down, I might have laughed as her head barely came to my shoulder.

“Ben, it was an accident. You can’t blame yourself, and from how Serena was when y’all got here, it seemed like she was happy. I think you’re getting into your head too much again.” She dragged her thumb down the side of my face, making the knots in my stomach ease somewhat.

A text came through, and I glanced down. Seeing Serena’s name caused my stomach to flip. “Thanks for the pants, Mom. I’ll be ready in a few.” I hurried into my room, not wanting to read the text in front of her.

I’m all right. I have to do this thing for my mom tonight, and I’m not excited. How’s your finger?

I sat on my bed, trying to figure out how Serena felt from the words on the phone. If she’d been let down because of the date, she wouldn’t have said so much, would she? But then there was the kiss and the look that said she meant what she said about having a good time. I just needed to avoid analyzing every little detail.

That’s funny. I have to help my mom too. Finger is good. I’m just glad it was my glove hand. It would be hard to pitch with a sliced finger.

That sounded awkward, but it wasn’t any different than how I’d be face to face.

Yeah, it would be. Good luck with whatever you’re doing tonight.

I waited for several more minutes, wondering if that was going to be the last thing she wrote me. No mention of doing something in the next few days. She’d either had a bad day or she was done with me. Considering how she talked about her parents, she was probably not too excited to spend it with her mom.

When no other text came through, I turned the volume off and slid my phone into the front pocket of the new black pants my mom had given me. How she kept track of my size when I grew all the time, I’d never know.

My brain was still mulling over the last text message. No promise of future plans. Maybe I needed to stop thinking about her and move on. I didn’t want to be one of those guys who held on long after the girl had moved on to a new relationship. And from what I knew of Serena, I could be labeled “the guy I went on a date with one time” by next week.

Twenty-One

Serena

I wanted to bang my head repeatedly against a wall as I glanced at the clothes my mom was making me wear. Maybe some teens liked this style, but I looked like a forty-five-year-old woman. The buttoned cardigan and capris made the already warm air in the conference center like a furnace, and I was already sweating. Even the makeup girl had commented on the heat.

I glanced at the other models dressed and in line for the fashion show to begin. My mom didn’t share much about her business with me. I knew she was trying to hit a certain market, but I wasn’t sure what market that was. Maybe business casual? I didn’t have a head for business, but I figured that niching down was probably better than trying to appease the masses.

To look at my mother, I’d think she had more fashion sense because she was always dressed in trendy styles. Why wasn’t she going for that niche? The pastel colors we all wore made me bored just looking at them.

The music began, and I heard Rachel Gates announcing the spring line of…something. The mic cut out at that moment. Several other designers milled around, arranging things on their models and shouting for different people to come help.

I’d been one of my mother’s first models over five years ago when she was just dabbling in fashion design. I’d loved it then, so excited to be part of her growing business. But things changed when I started to grow out of the outfits and styles she produced. When she’d switched to old lady clothing, I wasn’t quite sure.

The fashion show seemed to drag on, and I was glad when I finally finished showing the three pieces my mom set aside for me. Sitting outside of the large room, I slumped against the wall and rested my head back.

“Serena?” a familiar voice called.

I opened my eyes and saw Ben striding over, dressed in black slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie. He looked even more attractive than he had at our date the night before, with his hair combed and gelled.

I stood and stepped forward to hug him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to do something for your mom.” I shifted to my back foot, leaving only a foot of space between us.

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, we’re in the big room over there for a wedding.”

“The Carchiever wedding? I heard that was a big deal. They live just a few houses down from us. What’s your mom got you doing for it?”

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