Page 18 of Pitching for Keeps
His thumb brushes over my knuckles. "I love you too."
"PLACES!" the photographer calls.
We separate, and I try to arrange my face into something appropriate for wedding photos, but Megan catches my eye.
"Best wedding gift ever," she mouths.
And as we smile for the camera, Jay across from me with the groomsmen, that little smirk playing at his lips, I think she might be right.
The photographer runs through what feels like a thousand combinations—bride with bridesmaids, groom with groomsmen, full wedding party, couples' shots. Through it all, I'm hyperaware of Jay across the way, how he keeps adjusting his cuffs (nervous habit), how he laughs at Greg's terrible jokes (still loyal), how his eyes find mine between every single shot.
"Now let's get some candid shots!" the photographer announces. "Just talk among yourselves, act natural."
"Act natural," I mutter. "Sure. Natural. I'm very natural."
"You're catastrophizing out loud again," Sarah says.
"I never do that. I strategically evaluate potential scenarios."
"Is that what you call making heart eyes at the pitcher?"
"I'm not making heart eyes!"
Jay chooses that moment to catch my eye and wink. I promptly trip over my own feet.
"So natural," Sarah laughs.
"Okay, wedding party, let's head to the ceremony space for a few more shots!" the photographer calls.
As we walk across the lawn, Jay falls into step beside me.
"So," he says casually, "nice weather for a wedding."
"Are we really talking about the weather?"
"Would you prefer to discuss how you still remember my pre-game tie routine?"
"Would you prefer to discuss how you changed clothes in the back of Ted's car?"
"He's seen worse. Remember the time we?—"
"Had to change after the rain delay in Jacksonville," I finish. "You split your pants sliding into second."
We both stop walking.
"I can't believe you remember that," he says.
"I can't believe you slid into second as a pitcher."
"It was a fourteen-inning game! Everyone had to hit!"
"Still. Your form was terrible."
"My form was—" He catches himself. "Are we really arguing about my base running from six years ago?"
"We're not arguing. We're... discussing."
"You're cute when you're discussing."
