If I’d been the type to set the record straight, I might’ve pointed out that I hadn’t really been the one asking—only pretending to. Because I was his ex. I never would’ve approached Frank if I hadn’t been forced to.
“You even look good in a Sox cap,” he said, wetting his lips. “That’s something.” Nothing about the moment screamed first kiss, but Frank dropped his hand to my shoulder and brought me closer. I didn’t even have a chance to pull away before the bill of his cap knocked into mine. I laughed nervously and silently thanked Sebastian for saving me from afar.
“Hey, Keller,” Justin called from behind me. “You on a date?”
I glanced back at a grinning Justin. Sebastian had his eyes on us, his knee bouncing a mile a minute. Without his hat, his hair was messy, and he was dressed as casually as I’d ever seen him in a hoodie, gray t-shirt, and jeans that definitely did not double as pajamas.
“What’s with those guys?” Frank asked. “You told me at the bar that guy was your coworker.”
“He is. They both are. They just like to mess with me.”
“They came all the way here to hassle you on a Saturday?”
“I don’t know how, in a stadium this size, they ended up right behind us, but whatever. Don’t pay any attention to them.”
“All right,” he said, playing with my hair. “I’ll pay my attention elsewhere.”
This time, I recognized the look in his eyes—and then he removed his hat. He hadn’t given up on the kiss.
As Frank reached to remove Sebastian’s cap from my head, Sebastian called down to us. “Georgina.”
I needed to take my own advice and ignore him—after all, he was probably interrupting us on purpose to annoy me. Except that I was more relieved for the save than anything. Frank paused as if he was also deciding whether or not to acknowledge Sebastian.
I looked back. “What?” I asked.
Sebastian pushed his sleeves from his forearms to his elbows as he glanced between the two of us. “Come up here a sec.”
I had a decision to make. I’d told Sebastian once I wouldn’t come when he called—but it was either that, or stay and get kissed.
13
Sebastian
If François had felt confident enough to go in for a kiss before the fifth inning, I could only assume Georgina’s date was going well—and thanks to my big mouth, I was about to find out.
Georgina followed me up the stairs toward concessions. Behind me, she said something, but the chatter between innings drowned her out. I angled sideways, putting a hand on her upper back to urge her in front of me. “What’d you say?”
“I asked where we’re going.”
I leaned down to her ear as we reached the concourse. “Beer.”
“I must look pretty thirsty,” she said.
I caught her drift. I’d picked a fine moment to interrupt the date. I’d tried to convince myself witnessing the kiss wouldn’t bother me, but I couldn’t tell if Georgina had invited it or had been trying to pull away. When François had reached a grubby hand for the hat I’d put on Georgina’s head—my hat—I’d reacted without thinking and blurted out her name.
In line at the concessions stand, I got out my wallet. “What’re you having?”
“I’m not sure I should drink any more.”
“How many have you had?”
“Only the one you brought me, but Frank seemed weird about the fact that I was day drinking. How would it look to get drunk on a first date?”
I refrained from telling her it was a bad sign if he was already making her feel guilty about something—only because I didn’t want her to think I was judging. “Who knows,” I said, “he might start to look better.”
“Is that why Justin is drinking?” Georgina asked while we waited.
Jokes about Justin and I dating were a dime a dozen, but ruffling Georgina’s feather was a rare opportunity I wasn’t about to pass up. The cashier called us forward. I ordered two beers, then leaned down to Georgina’s ear. “You have a point there. Justin and I haven’t even bumped hats yet.”
She shifted feet. “That wasn’t what it looked like.”
“No? It looked like he tried to kiss you. So why didn’t he?”
She looked back at me, holding my gaze until the register’s cash drawer popped open with a ding. She was saved by the bell—for now. I paid for our drinks, picked them up, and steered us to a two-top table when she tried to walk back toward the stands. “Want to sit?” I asked.
She took her drink. “I’ll stand.”
I took a tall stool to put us at eye level. “So, why didn’t you kiss him? Bad breath?”
She gasped into her hand. “My breath is fine.”
“I meant his. I’m sure yours is pure relish on a hotdog.”
She made a face. “Gross.”
“I happen to love relish,” I said. “But does François?”
Each time I said François with flourish, she flinched. I didn’t care. Something about him bugged me—I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
“We didn’t kiss because you interrupted us,” she said.
“So? If I were in his position, and we both wanted that kiss, I wouldn’t let anyone stop me.”
“Frank and I are clicking,” she said, scowling. “There was even mention of spending time at his summerhouse.”
“Hamptons?”
She coughed into her fist. “Boca Raton.”
The idea of Georgina spending a summer with a closeted vampire in Boca Raton was tragic enough that I almost smiled. I got the sense she was playing up the date. If it was so great, why wasn’t she sitting here with him? And why was I more relieved than smug about that? “Meanwhile, Justin and I will be clamming in Montauk.”
“You two should really just make it official and announce your love to the world.”
“But then I wouldn’t get to flirt with pretty girls.”
“For someone who pretends to have as much game as you,” she said, “I still haven’t seen you successfully flirt with any girls since I’ve known you.”
“How do you know I’m not flirting with you right now?”
The slight tint of her cheeks was worth stepping out on a limb. “I said successfully,” she retorted.
I didn’t mean to ask it, but the question had come out, a natural response. Because flirting came easy to me, and I had flirted with her once. Before I’d known who she was. I’d been wondering whether I’d jumped to conclusions about Georgina since my talk with Libby, and I couldn’t forget she was a threat to my job—but could she be more than that too? The way her personality flipped on a dime, I still couldn’t tell. Seeing how someone her size handled Bruno, not just physically but shouldering the weight of his illness, caring for him the way she did . . . it aligned with the strength she’d exuded in front of a roomful of strangers. But it also hinted at the sweet, vulnerable side of her I’d only gotten glimpses of. Which had left me only more confused about who Georgina really was.
At the moment, she was pink-nosed, sweet smelling, and throwing snark in my direction. “What was that?” I pretended not to hear her so I could scoot to the edge of my stool.
“I said I still haven’t seen you flirt successfully.”
I set an elbow on the table. “Maybe I ought to come down and get some tips from Mr. Boca Raton. Or you could ditch him and come sit with us.”
“What would be the fun in that?” she asked. “I know you and Justin are having the time of your lives analyzing my first-date moves.”
I wasn’t sure about that. Watching them had made me want to interrupt, the same way I’d had to refrain from interjecting when they’d met at happy hour. Was it just François who got under my skin, or was it her with him? That sounded an awful lot like jealousy.
“Can I give you your hat back now?” she asked.
If her flushed cheeks were any indication, Georgina burned easily. Those little freckles were endearing, but there was nothing cute about skin cancer. “Not ’til the sun goes down, buns.”