“Hey, John.” Levi nods once. “John, this is my friend, Brooke. Brooke, John.”

I turn around to discover a large man with a full head of dark ringlets wearing a White Sox jersey and an oversized foam finger. The man barely regards me but offers a faint smile before turning back to Levi. “This is sure to be one hell of a game. Am I right?” John asks.

“I’m hoping it will be.” Levi’s attention moves to me. He drops his head just enough that I can tell he’s done with the conversation with his seat neighbor.

“Not a fan?” I whisper.

“Just wait.”

It doesn’t take long to discover what Levi meant. John turns out to be what Levi refers to as the “hugger fan.” With each step toward the opening game—the announcements, the singing of the national anthem, the first pitch—John was reaching for Levi or me to hug or slap on the back. When he finally gets up to use the restroom, Levi shakes his head and releases a heavy sigh.

“He only comes to games once in a blue moon because his uncle owns the seat, but each time he comes, I end up spending too much on beer.”

I grin in spite of his apparent frustration. Levi has been nothing but polite to the man. I’ve been the one turning with shocked expressions and rolling my eyes each time John hugs me. Levi just obliges and cheers or complains along with John when there’s a call the home team’s fans don’t approve of.

“You think it’s funny?” Levi asks.

I shake my head and attempt to stop my smirk from tugging on my lips. “No. Not at all.”

He smiles, releasing a chuckle that sends a recently familiar jolt through me. It reminds me of when I was young and would eat Pop Rocks and chase them with soda—a fizzy and tingling sensation that travels through every extremity. “You’re a terrible liar.”

My phone chimes—and then chimes again, and again. “Sorry,” I tell him, reaching for my purse. “I meant to mute it.” I retrieve my cell phone from my pocket, cursing myself for not having left it in my purse. With the noise from the stands, I likely wouldn’t have heard it. I see several text messages from Catherine; the last one is a single word:

I wipe a hand across my forehead. “I’m so sorry,” I apologize again, feeling worse because I’m not smart or brave enough to ignore her messages.

Levi’s blue eyes are round under his arched eyebrows. “Is it the ex?”

I pull my chin back. “No. No,” I repeat the word, saying it more firmly and with a sense of finality. “Definitely not. This is my boss.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m sure it is. She’s just needy and constantly stressed out. She should probably be medicated.” I’m channeling her frazzled persona as I swipe some loose hairs from my cheek and open the strand of messages from Catherine.

“She should definitely be medicated,” I amend my statement with a deep sigh.

Levi laughs as I type out a quick response to Catherine.

“And I’m enabling her craziness.”

“Not a big fan of your job, I take it?”

I look up, working to remove any evidence of a scowl. “I’m sounding dramatic, aren’t I?” I swipe at my hair again. “I love my job … most days.” My smile feels sincerer than the last one I tried to imitate. “I’ve worked there for nearly ten years, and I have a lot of flexibility and the freedom to do whatever I want. My boss is just a bit eccentric. I guess we all are in our own ways though, right?”

“Is this when you segue into telling me something about you sleeping in a coffin or refusing to leave the house on days that begin with a T or wearing the same socks every day?” Levi’s brows rise with humor.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to share too much the first time we hang out?”

His lips spread wide with a smile, his face relaxing. “Are you asking me to go out on a second ‘non-date’?” He lifts his fingers, making air quotations.

My cheeks warm, and laughter bubbles from me. “I told you I don’t know how to be around people. That—that’s my idiosyncrasy. I have really lame people skills, particularly with the opposite sex.”

Levi bows his head slightly, his gaze dropping. The angle exposes his long eyelashes and the sharp cut of his cheekbones. He shakes his head. “I saw you that night at the club. You’re good with people. You made them feel at ease and had no problem initiating conversation—that is until I got in the way of you watching out for your friend.” He looks up, watching for my reaction.

“You’re giving yourself too much credit.”

His laughter fills something in my chest that feels too similar to dependency. He sits back in his seat and appraises me. I attempt to discreetly memorize the way he leans to one side, how his chin dips, and the fine laugh lines that form above his cheeks due to his sculpted jaw. Looking at him inspires me to want to try some form of artistry—an attempt to preserve this expression so I can openly admire it. “I’ll even cook for you,” he says. “Really pull out my big guns.” He pulls his sleeves halfway up his forearms.

I laugh. “You’re really curious to learn if I’m eccentric, aren’t you?”

“I’m really curious to find out if you’re as addictive as you seem.”

I move my gaze from his intense stare, over his shoulder, before glancing back to find him maintaining his stare. I’m positive my cheeks are flushed—likely my neck and chest and entire body as well—because I’ve never had anyone talk to me so directly. He isn’t embarrassed at all, causing me to feel even more off-balance.

“I make you nervous,” Levi says, a slow grin curling his lips.

“No, not nervous… Well, maybe … okay, a little nervous. You’re just more direct than I’m used to.”

His grin transforms into a smile so wide his eyes become nearly hidden by his cheeks. “I figure it’s best to be direct.”

I’m envious over this. While Felicity claims I have confidence, I worry about others being happy so much and so often I sometimes forget entirely to consider my own thoughts or preferences—let alone voice them. “I might be really bad at this dating thing,” I tell him. “I haven’t done it in a long time. You’ll be entertained to know my best friend and I spent the better part of yesterday reading about the current etiquette because it’s been that long.”

Levi moves his chin to the side, his eyes narrowing. It looks as though he’s inspecting me. “Please.” He raises one hand. “Promise me you won’t look up anything by anyone regarding dating. I’m not interested in rules or norms, and head games make me drink. All you have to do is say you’re interested, and we’ll make a go of it.” His shoulders rise with an easy shrug. “And you’ll quickly discover I’m super easy to hang out with and have the added bonus of making really good…” He snaps his fingers. “Vegetarian. Okay, I was going to say ribs, but that would probably be unattractive rather than score me bonus points, so let’s go with really awesome … vegetables?”

I’m laughing, appreciating his confidence and how casual he is with discussing so much. It reminds me a bit of Felicity and how she has never hesitated in pulling me out of my comfort zone and shoving me into action.

The crowd cheers, bringing us back to the present and out of our seats. The unified cheers have been on pause since the seventh-inning stretch began, and I look up expecting to see the team coming back out onto the field only to discover Levi and I are on the giant screens around the field, red lips outlined around our picture.

“Is that…?” I swallow my discomfort and with it go the rest of my words.

Levi nods, taking a step closer to me. He wraps one hand around the back of my neck, and his other hand slides across my jaw. “I think the Sox are telling us something.” He brushes my cheek with his thumb. I release a silent laugh, my heart thrumming. I’m hot and cold and dizzy as though waking from a hangover. Then I realize how close I am to Levi, and I’m positive he hasn’t moved, which means I have. His smile grows wider, and then his eyes close, prompting me to close mine. His lips seal over mine, and everything vanishes as I seemingly float into a state of bliss.