Page 89 of Pitcher Perfect
Better than nice. It felt freeing.
And if Robbie’s constantly pulling her into doorways and in between parked cars to kiss her was any indication, he liked the dress, too.
“Is it too late to buy this in nine hundred colors?”
“Probably. It’s a gift from a prepandemic Christmas.”
“Damn.” They were in line at a deli now and he was using their joined hands to gather her in close, his lips grazing her forehead. “Does it have those attached panties? It looks like it does.”
“Shh. No, I supplied my own.”
He made an appreciative sound in his throat. “That’s probably for the best.”
“Why?”
“So I don’t have to peel the whole thing off,” he said, as if she was nuts for asking. He snarled into her neck playfully, nipping at her. “You think I’m going to last the whole day with you looking this hot? Nah, Rocket. Not happening.”
Had she ever felt this light before?
Her stomach was floating somewhere in the rafters.
“Hey,” she breathed, impulsively, a rush whipping through her blood at what she was preparing to ask him, but she wasn’t scared. “Will you come to my home opener next week? If it doesn’t interfere with playoffs?”
Robbie had already let go of her hand to fumble with his phone, swiping a few times until he pulled up what looked like the Bearcats team calendar. “What day?”
“Next Monday. It’s a night game.”
His mouth tipped up at one end. “I’ll be there. I have away games Tuesday and Wednesday, but we’re here on Monday, then a home game on Thursday.”
They smiled at each other in the midst of the deli, Skylar’s heart nearly punching through her chest. Had she ever felt this heightened brand of wild excitement for Madden? Or had she only ever been...wistfulover her brother’s best friend? Admiring? Because she knew for a fact she’d never had this sense of camaraderie or understanding or sexual anticipation. No, she would remember if she’d felt even a fraction of it. “Great.”
“Will you come to my game Thursday?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” He laughed, crossing his arms, uncrossing them.
She laughed, too, because she was happy, and she didn’t know what else to do. Also, it was their turn to order and they didn’t realize it until someone in line cleared their throat. They got sandwiches to go (Robbie got three) and he carried the brown paper bag in his left arm, holding Skylar’s hand with his right. If every woman with a pulse stopped and stared at him on their way down the sidewalk, Robbie didn’t seem to notice and Skylar chose to ignore it. For today, she was just embracing the possibility of... them.
And ignoring the uncertainty that came along with it.
“You nervous about your home opener?”
“Definitely. First game as a senior. They’re expecting a lot out of me.” They reached the end of the row of shops and turned down a path into the park, shade enveloping the two of them. “But I know once I throw the first pitch, I’ll be fine. Sometimes right before a game, I have this weird what-if moment, like maybe I’ll get out there and my body will forget how to play and my arm will be jelly. Once muscle memory takes over, I just get further and further into the zone and I stop overthinking.”
He hummed, brow drawn in concentration. “Just have to get through the first pitch.”
“Yeah. How do you feel about playoffs?”
“Good. We have some momentum going in. Gauthier is at the top of his game and I’m trying to give him space without blending in too much.” A few beats passed. “My problem was the opposite of yours at the beginning of the season. As a rookie, they mostly played me hoping I wouldn’t mess with their chemistry. I think I’ve been so focused on not fucking up, I’ve forgotten to just play my game.”
“Do you think that had a lot to do with the way they sometimes treated you off the ice?”
“Yeah. I didn’t realize it until recently. Until you. But... yeah.” Robbie traded their joined hands in favor of putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “Who knows. Maybe the playoffs are when Corrigan comes alive.”
“No.” Skylar hip-bumped him. “Theywillbe.”
“You’re right. They will be.” Abruptly, he stopped walking, looking at her like he was seeing her all over again for the first time. “Hey, you. Skylar Page.” His fingers delved into her hair and tilted her face up. “Just where the hell have you been all my life?”
