Page 97 of The Bro Pact
Kyle puts his arm around my shoulders, giving me a quick squeeze. “Same.”
“Ready to sit down and crack these beers open?” I glance down at my smartwatch. “National Anthem and all that should be starting soon.”
Kyle’s baby blues light up with excitement. “Hell yeah.”
“Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey plays from the big speakers as I lead us a few rows down from the top of the landing. There really isn’t a bad seat in the house, but in my humble opinion, ours are some of the best.
And I’m not going to tell Kyle, but I paid a pretty penny for them, too.
Doesn’t matter, though. He’s worth it, and so is this trip. I can work overtime at the shop if I need to. Pops always needs mechanics.
I push thoughts of work away because right now, it’s just about me, Kyle, andbaseball.
“These seats are incredible, Ren.” Kyle pops his beer open, taking a long swig before relaxing in his seat and gazing around at everything in wonder.
The game finally starts, and soon we’re deep into it.
“Let’s go, Giants!” Kyle chants politely, clapping and cheering when everyone else does. But there are some questionable calls happening, and I’m getting annoyed.
“Come on, blue! Put your glasses on! That was a strike!” I shout, making the people around us chuckle.
“Ren, stop heckling the umpire,” Kyle hisses under his breath like he’s embarrassed of me. But this is baseball, people are yelling way worse things at the guy than I am.
“Fine. Fine.But I can’t watch these calls. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna get us something to eat.”
“Need any help?” Kyle asks.
“Nah. I’m good, just enjoy the game, man. I’ll be right back.”
He’s not going to be disappointed, I know exactly where I’m headed first.
I jog down the steps to the main level where all the food stands are located, searching for the legendary garlic fries I’ve promised myself.
Maybe I should have brought Kyle, because once I’ve secured the garlic fries as well as a crab sandwich and two more cans of beer, I’m walking back to our seats very, very slowly so I don’t drop anything.
This food was not cheap, but the look on Kyle's face is priceless.
I hand him the fries and a beer before taking my seat next to him.
“Oh my God, these fries are amazing,” Kyle moans after shoving four garlic fries into his mouth. “They don’t even need ketchup.”
I reach over and grab a few, savoring the greasy, garlicky flavor before Ky inhales them all. The crab sandwich is cut in half, so I hand one to Kyle, who immediately crunches into it.
“Oh, yeah. This is good too, man. Mmm.”
I take a big bite of my own sandwich, humming at the soft Dungeness crab piled between two slices of grilled sourdough.
We continue to eat, enjoying our beers and the baseball game.
This is perfect.
Right here, right now.
With my best friend.
I am beyond happy, and I think Kyle is too.
He smiles wide when I glance over at him, sauce on the corner of his mouth. I reach out and swipe it away with my thumb, offering him a wink before I return my attention to the game.
