I take off my dress and put on the shirt and shorts. “Not really a fan, but I love hot dogs and beer. I went to a couple of games in college, but never to a professional one. I’m not sure I get what all the initials mean, but I understand the basics. More importantly, I hear the Yankees put on a spread.”
He laughs at me, and then proceeds to tell me everything he knows about the team. His favorite players growing up, and about the few times he was able to go. As he talks, his face lights up with excitement, and I can picture him as a young man and it melts my heart. It makes me happy to know that even through all the shit with his father and growing up, that there were good times for him to look back on and be able to share with me. By the time the car pulls up in front of the stadium Oz is happily grabbing my hand and tugging me behind him. His own enthusiasm is driving mine, and I’m nearly giggling as we reach the gate.
As is usually the case when we go somewhere, the security guard at the gate looks at him and smiles, opens the rope and allows us unobstructed access. Oz gets the VIP treatment everywhere we go, and it’s still a little dizzying to get used to. I’ve never had the best of everything, and sometimes on this kind of scale it’s overwhelming, but at the same time, kind of badass.
We make our way to the concessions stand first, grabbing beer, hot dogs and soft pretzels. After that we walk to our seats, right behind home plate. The view of the stadium is incredible, and my simple college experience can’t compare to something on this grand scale. Even if you’re not into baseball, or the Yankees, there’s something to be said about the magic of it all. Being surrounded by this many fans of a sport they love, and seeing top athletes compete is a thrill. But the best part is being with Oz. I think he could take me to clean toilets and we’d still end up having the best time together. He’s become my other half, and as long as he’s with me, I’m good to go.
We sit and chat for a few minutes and he points out players and coaches as they warm up. To my surprise one of the pitchers he pointed out earlier sees him and calls him out by his last name.
“Osbourne! Who’s your girl?”
The player looks over at me and throws his hand up, waving. I begin to wave back, but Oz grabs my wrist and puts my hand back on my thigh, gripping it possessively.
“Mind your business, Rodriguez.”
I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from laughing as Oz practically shoves over in front of me to block me from view. Sitting back in my seat, I rub his broad shoulders, hoping that helps the jealous streak pass.
After the national anthem, Oz gives me a kiss on the cheek and whispers in my ear.
“Sit tight, baby. I’ll be right back.”
He walks over to the side of the dugout, where there’s a small door, and security opens it for him. My jaw nearly hits the ground as I see him walk onto the field and the Rodriguez guy gives him the baseball. There’s a second of teasing between the two of them before they do a man hug of slaps on the back. After that, Oz takes the pitcher’s mound and the arena claps and cheers.
“Holy shit.” I cup both hands over my mouth. Suddenly I’m so nervous and excited all at once. I can’t believe he’s about to throw out the first pitch at a Yankees game and he never told me.
I watch as he stretches his long muscular arms and the catcher moves into place. The crowd starts to cheer, and Oz looks to me and winks before taking his stance. I hold my breath as he winds up and releases the ball. It’s like time stands still as I watch the ball slowly leave his hand and make its way across home plate and into the catcher’s glove.
My man is good at everything. And throwing out the first pitch at a baseball game is no exception. His form is worthy of any major league team, and the speed and precision are perfect. I could say I’m shocked, but I’m not.
I jump up and down, throwing my arms in the air and cheer the loudest I can. If I’m not mistaken, I see a blush on his cheeks as he leaves the pitcher’s mound, and the Yankees take the field. He stops and poses for a few pictures with some staff, and then makes his way back up to the arena and over to where I’m sitting.
I leap into his arms and wrap myself around him in pure excitement, like he won the World Series, instead of throwing a single pitch. He kisses my neck and hugs me back before putting me in my seat and taking his beside me.
“You were incredible. How could you not tell me?” I playfully slap his arm and he reaches over, squeezing my thigh.
“Didn’t want to jinx it.” He kisses my neck and I catch his warm amber scent. It makes my toes curl, and my heart flutter, but all too soon he’s moving back. “Besides, I like surprising you.”