I was decked out in a Yankees cap and the number twelve jersey, Andrew Ashton’s jersey, of course. I filled out the navy blue tank top underneath way more than I did the last time I wore it. I glanced over myself in the mirror skeptically. I never thought big boobs could be a bad thing, but they just made me feel heavier, which I was.
“Are you ready?” Matt asked, grinning like a child going to Chuck E. Cheese’s.
He was more of a Marlins fan, being from Florida, but he did like the Yankees as well. He wore a simple navy t-shirt with the Yankees logo on the left-side of his chest.
“Is Laura really okay with watching Ben tonight? Maybe she should go with you…”
“Cami, Laura and I want you to have fun while you’re here. Neither one of us minds watching Ben. Take advantage of us. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity we’re offering you. That kid is yours for the next eighteen years,” Matt patted my back.
I smiled at him and hugged him.
“What was that for?”
“Being a good friend to me even though I was terrible to you,” I said, trying to keep myself from getting emotional.
“You were never terrible to me,” he waved me off.
“I turned you down every time you asked me out, pretty rudely actually.”
Matt shrugged, “I was a cocky kid. You were just keeping me in check.”
“Then I kicked you out of my life,” I sighed, with my hands on my hips.
“Your husband hated me, it’s understandable. We’re here now. Luckily, my fiancée is secure and will allow me to keep you around,” he winked.
“If she knew the old me, she wouldn’t,” I said, knowingly.
Matt didn’t argue, which proved my thoughts.
The entire drive to the baseball field, Matt would not shut up about what might or could happen—what players we would meet, where we would sit, etcetera, etcetera. I was starting to regret taking him and not Laura.
“Do you think Topaz will be sitting with the wives?” Matt asked.
Topaz is a twenty-two-year-old singer and occasional actress. She has light blue hair and wears outrageous stage costumes. I met her once or twice while escorting Rad Trick around at some teen awards show. She seems nice enough, but she sure loves to be looked at.
“Why would Topaz be there?”
“Uh, she’s dating your friend.”
I still looked at him confused.
“Topaz and Andrew Ashton are speculated to be one of the new hot A-List couples. Where have you been?”
“I don’t pay attention to any tabloid trash unless it involves one of my clients. I have people who read that stuff for me,” I rolled my eyes.
He just laughed, “Well, excuse me…”
Matt parked the car and we walked up to the box office. We were allowed into the stadium to see the players warm-up. We found our seats, which were right behind the dugout! As a Yankees fan, I was pretty excited, even though I’m a girl who gets All-Access passes to The Grammys. Baseball was still a magical thing for me. Knowing Andrew Ashton since he was a kid didn’t take away the novelty of the game yet.
Spring training felt more intimate. Maybe Matt’s energy was rubbing off on me. I felt as much excitement as I possibly could for someone going through a depression, which meant I probably still looked miserable to everyone else. Matt kept asking me if I was okay, which was my first hint. I decided I better plaster on my fake smile to convince him.
As the players got onto the field, it was hard to spot who was who since everyone had hats on; the Yankees didn’t believe in putting names on the backs of jerseys either. I looked for number 12 and couldn’t see him. I noticed one player bending over to fix his cleats. I couldn’t help but notice how nice his butt looked. Damn, it was probably the hottest butt I had ever seen on a guy—Jordan and Danny included.
Hot Butt stood up and took his hat off. He ran a hand through his tousled blondish-brown hair before putting his hat back on. It still didn’t click until I saw the number on his back. Oh crap, I just checked out Andrew Ashton, Jordan’s little brother!
My mouth just hung open. I know it hasn’t been that long since I had seen Drew, especially since I keep up on Yankee games every season. Still, every time I see him, I forget he is not a little boy anymore and I also forget how good-looking of a man he has become. I had seen him in his baseball uniform plenty of times. I just never noticed that butt or the way it moved as he jogged onto the field.
“Cami,” Matt nudged my arm.
I turned toward him, blinking a few times.
“I asked if you wanted a hot dog…” he said, looking at me funny.
I did want a hot dog, but I also didn’t want to feel weighed down from it.
“No, thanks. I’ll just have water.”
Matt headed toward the concession stand as I leaned against the hand rail in front of me. I fell into a relaxed state sitting there in the warm weather, watching the Yankees throw the ball around and take swings with the bat. I didn’t even realize how long Matt had been gone until the team started heading back to the dugout.
I turned around seeing if I could spot Matt and noticed a large group of girls by the concession stand. I rolled my eyes. Groupies got him, figures.
I whirled around toward the field and saw Andrew standing a few feet in front of me. I waved like a fool, which translated to my arm being raised high and vigorously whipping it back and forth, as if I was trying to signal the guy piloting the blimp over the stadium. What is going on with me? I did not get star struck frequently, but that’s what it felt like and I had no idea why. Maybe it was the fact that the best baseball team in the world, in my opinion anyway, was right in front of me. Or maybe because their star player was calling out to me. But he was not some star to me. This was Andrew—the sarcastic, witty, sometimes irritating kid I tolerated because I was in love with his older brother.
Drew climbed up the wall and hugged me with one arm.
“You look good,” he smiled, showing all of his teeth.
I laughed, “Right.”
He looked at me funny, “After the game, wait here. We’ll hang out.”
Drew smiled again and I just nodded. After he walked away, Matt finally made it back to his seat with plenty of stories about his trip to the concession stand. The game started about ten minutes later.
When Drew was announced to the field, Matt and I cheered like we did the other players, but I guess I got a tad bit more vocal because Matt was holding his ears.
I smacked his hands away.
“Stop. I’m not being that loud.”
“Cami, you just screamed louder than the teenage girls and their moms who saw me at the concession stand did,” he said.
I shrugged, “I’m just supporting Drew.”
Matt cracked a smile, “I think he has enough support.”
He nodded up at the giant television screen. Three girls, who looked like they were in college, were wearing navy t-shirts that read “Take Us Home, Drew!” and had number 12’s painted on their faces. They were flailing about like crazy for the camera.
Andrew Ashton was no longer the little boy envious of his brother. He had his own career, his own spotlight, and apparently, he could pick any girl he wanted. I don’t know why, but I found it all upsetting. I mean I’m depressed, so I find everything upsetting.
Looking at Drew, though, I was thinking of how young he still was, and how innocent he used to be—even though he was a pretty big flirt as a teenager. Now, that boy is gone and he was probably having sex with a million women, doing steroids, and thought the high he was on was going to last forever.
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