Page 60 of Switch Hitter

Sean

Yet?

Emiliano

After you meet my family tomorrow, we can spend the night in your hotel room.

You can tell me how much you “hate” me in person.

Sean

I hate you.

My stomach flutters, and I start to mentally talk myself out of driving there tonight and kissing the shit out of his bratty mouth.

Emiliano

Say it again.

Sean

I hate you.

Emiliano

Fuck, I want that mouth on me, baby. Bet you can take a dick like a fucking champ.

There’s a pause long enough that I can picture him staring at the screen, cheeks red, throat working.

Sean

Fuck.

I laugh silently.

Emiliano

Exactly.

Get some sleep, boyfriend. I’ll see you after the game.

The next day, I show up at Yankee Stadium dressed like I’m trying to disappear. I’ve got a plain hoodie on with a Coyotes hat and some sunglasses. I move through the crowd with my head down, but I swear I can still feel eyes on me.

I’m not invisible, and it was stupid to think I could even pull this off. I find my seat where I can see left field and the Coyotes dugout without being too close to anything official. When Sean jogs out for warmups, my heart does a quick flutter. When he thinks no one is looking, he scans the lower level, searching for me, and then his bright green eyes find mine. Even from this far away, I feel it.

The way he steadies, the way his shoulders drop a fraction, and he looks like he can breathe again.

That’s right, baby. I’m right here.

Breathe.

Game 2 ends later with the Coyotes fighting like hell to secure the second win of the series. Sean plays like he’s got something to prove. Like he’s angry at the world and using the field as a confession booth.

When it’s over, I wait until the crowd thins, until he’s out of uniform and back in street clothes, duffel slung over his shoulder. He spots me near an exit and his whole body tightens like he’s bracing for impact.

I step in close and reach for his bag. He lets me take it before I have to ask.

That’s still my favorite kind of yes.