“Ahh, now we’re talkin’.” With a dreamy smile, she rests her head against my shoulder. “If only.”
As the city zooms above us, we fall into a comfortable silence. The mundane tasks of the week slough off us the longer we stay in our urban transit bubble until I’m positive I never want to leave.
Then, I imagine Charlie’s look of surprise that I know she’ll be sporting when she realizes where I’m taking her. And it’s just enough to get me to stand.
“Come on, Charlie. The next stop is ours.”
Curiously, she does as she’s told while checking off the possible places I’m taking her to like a mile-long list. And the best part is that I know she passed right by the actual activity without a second thought.
“Is it that new cookie dough place?” she asks as the train stops, and we exit.
“Nope.”
“What about that art place where you drink wine and paint stuff?”
“Nope,” I repeat before guiding her up the stairs. My face threatens to spill the surprise, but I do my best to cover it.
“You’re killing me here!” she whines.
“Patience, Charlie. You’ll find out soon enough.”
When we reach the surface and walk an extra block, her eyes light up. Turning on her heel, her dainty, little hands press against my chest to stop me.
“You didn’t,” she accuses.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t.”
I laugh and pull her into a hug.
“Oh. But I did.”
With the girliest squeal I’ve ever heard coming from her, Charlie squirms in my arms before practically pouncing on me like a little jaguar. Her legs wrap around my waist, squeezing me as tight as she possibly can while chanting, “No, you didn’t, no you didn’t!”
“Are you surprised?” I ask through bouts of laughter.
“Yes!”
Standing a few feet in front of us is the famous Yankee Stadium in all its glory. The lights are bright as they bounce off the brick walls. The navy flags sway in the light breeze. The smell of hot dogs and deep-fried goodness floats through the air. And the crowd is buzzing with anticipation. I look down at Charlie in my arms and grin, although the crowds don’t hold a candle to the girl humming with energy in my arms.
“Thank you!” she cries before dropping back to her feet on the ground. I entwine our fingers then lead her to the entrance. Pulling out our tickets, I hand them to the usher who scans them then lets us proceed to our seats.
Charlie’s eyes are wide as she takes in the famed ballpark that holds so many memories for her.
“I don’t think I’ve been here in over ten years,” she admits on a breath.
Her dad had to sell their nosebleed season tickets when she was a little kid to pay for her braces, and she refused to come back after that. The guilt of being a kid with crooked teeth to a single parent was enough to sour the stadium. Then, by the time she was old enough to let it go, life got in the way. Just like it always does.
And she never came back.
The anxiety in my chest eases when I take in her wistful smile and the crinkled corners of her eyes. She’s not pissed I brought her here.
Good.
Lifting our clasped hands, I press a quick kiss to the back of her hand. “I thought it might be time to change that.”
“And I think that was a wise decision,” she teases.
Once we’re in our seats, we order a couple of footlongs and beer then settle in for a night of fun.
Charlie belts the lyrics to Take Me Out to The Ball Game while we sway with the crowd a few innings later, and I catch myself mesmerized by the girl beside me.
When she catches me staring, her smile stretches into a full-on grin, and a soft pink color spreads up her neck and into her cheeks.
“What? Do I have mustard on my face?” She wipes the back of her hand against her pouty lips. Her embarrassment, combined with her looks and her innocence, causes a chain reaction, and the urge to kiss her consumes me. Leaning closer, I hover a few inches from her mouth.
“You’re gorgeous, Charlie,” I whisper.
“And you’re being ridiculous again,” she replies just as quietly, though I don’t miss the way her eyes drop to my mouth before holding my stare. She’s practically begging me to kiss her, and I’d hate to keep her waiting.
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
“How do you know I’m cool with PDA?” she returns in a sassy tone. Her head inches back slightly in a game of cat and mouse that only encourages me to keep chasing her.
“Call it a hunch,” I murmur, my hand itching to grab her head and pin her in place.
“You should’ve just bribed the cameraman to zero in on us during the kiss cam.”
I almost laugh but restrain myself before closing the distance by another inch. “You shouldn’t assume I need an excuse to kiss you and that I don’t have the balls to do it when I want.”
“Oh, so this is a balls thing? Is that it?” she teases.
“No, it’s an I want you thing. And I don’t care if there’s an audience to witness it.”
She rolls her eyes. “I should’ve known you were into voyeurism.”
“Voyeurism is when you like watching people. I believe the term you’re looking for is an exhibitionist. And I don’t give a shit if anyone is watching. All I want is you.”
Her lids flutter closed for a split second before she peeks up at me through her thick, dark lashes. “Right now?”
“Hell, yes,” I growl, leaving only a breath between us. Hell, I can practically taste the beer on her breath. “Tell me I can kiss you.”
“And if I don’t?” she counters, her tongue slipping between those pouty lips before retreating back into her mouth.
I nearly groan. “Then I’ll be the gentleman you deserve and back away. But I think we both know that isn’t what you want.”
Swallowing thickly, she drops her eyes back to my mouth. “And how do you know what I want?”
“Because I know you better than anyone.” Unable to control myself, my hand slides up her arm, and I cup her cheek, but I don’t close the distance between us. I need her to admit she wants me as much as I want her first.
“Tell me,” I push.
Closing her eyes, she whispers, “I want you.”
She barely gets the three words out before my mouth clashes with hers. While one hand holds her in place, the other finds her bare knee and squeezes it. She feels like silk.
“Want to know a secret?” I whisper against the shell of her ear after releasing her lips from mine.
“What’s that?”
“Do you remember that night right before graduation when we went to the movies and caught that couple getting handsy in the back row?”
She nods. “And I was pissed at you for making out with another girl in front of me?”
“Yeah.”
“What about it?”
“That was the first night I thought of you in a way other than my best friend. I dreamt we were in the back row doing what that couple was. I dreamt you were the one gasping my name and squirming from my touch. I dreamt you were the one with your hand around my swollen cock, squeezing the head before I came in your palm. I woke up with the hardest morning wood I’d ever experienced, and it took a twenty-minute shower to get rid of it. But even then, I couldn’t get you out of my head. I told myself it was just because you were there that night. I didn’t want to admit it was because I wanted you for something more than a best friend. But now that I’m here, I can’t stop imagining it.”