Page 83 of Sliding into Love
"Not bad," Royce says when I step out. "For someone who was injured as badly as you say.”
“Recreational fun is still doable. It’s the pro-level I can’t reach anymore. Now let's see what you've got, Your Majesty.”
They step into the cage with more confidence than I expected. I move to stand behind the fence, watching as they adjust their grip on the bat.
"Wait," I say, entering the cage. "Your grip is wrong."
"My grip is fine."
"It's not. Here—" I step back inside and move behind them, my chest against their back. Reaching around to adjust theirhands on the bat, I tell them, "Loosen up a little. You're strangling it."
"I am not.” They stop talking as I shift their stance, my hands on their hips, positioning them correctly.
"Feet shoulder-width apart," I murmur close to their ear. "Knees slightly bent. You want to be able to rotate through your hips, not just swing with your arms."
I can feel the tension in their body, but it's not from the batting stance. The air between us has shifted, charging with an energy that has nothing to do with baseball.
"Like this?" they ask, their voice slightly breathless.
"Exactly like that. Now show me what you've got." I let my hands linger on their hips for just a moment longer than necessary before stepping back.
They hit the first pitch solidly, and I can't help but smile. The next few are good too. Not perfect, but respectable. By the tenth pitch, they've gotten into a rhythm, and I'm genuinely impressed.
"See?" they say, stepping out of the cage with a satisfied smile. "I know a thing or two about sports."
"You do. Though your form definitely improved after my expert instruction."
"Your expert instruction was very…" They pause, their eyes meeting mine with heat, "…hands-on."
"Was it? I can be hands-on in other ways too, if you want."
"Kenneth Little Menace Meyer, are you trying to seduce me in a batting cage?"
"Is it working?"
They laugh, grabbing my hand and pulling me away from the cages. "Come on. I want to try some air hockey.”
We spend the next two hours working our way through the arcade. Royce destroys me at air hockey and ski-ball, while I dominate at basketball shootout and the racing games. We playcooperatively on a zombie shooter, yelling strategy at each other and celebrating every level we complete.
At one point, at the prize counter, Royce uses our combined tickets to get me a small stuffed dog. It’s a golden retriever that reminds me of Rookie.
"For when we get our real ones?” I ask as they hand it over.
Their expression softens. “Yes, Kenny baby.”
"Promise?"
"Promise."
We end up at the pizza counter, sharing a large pepperoni with extra cheese and laughing about my go-kart victory and their surprising skill at batting.
"I had fun today. Even if it was ridiculous."
"The best things usually are." I catch their hand, threading our fingers together on the table. "We should do this more. Just… be together. No work stress, no obligations. Just us."
They nod, eyes fixed on me. “Just us. Though I reserve the right to demand a go-kart rematch."
"Anytime you want, Your Majesty. I'll even let you win next time."
