Page 35 of Fake Dates and Home Plates (Way Off Base #1)

Henley

The stadium is louder than I’ve ever heard it. It’s a pretty warm day, even for June. Royal blue and gold are draped throughout the stands, clashing with the opponent's colors.

Except for me. I’m wearing the same jersey Theo had made for me, and I really hope he’ll get me a new one for whatever team he ends up playing for.

I’m just glad Shoreline didn’t even make it through playoffs, having lost several players due to the controversy with the Delta Alpha fraternity. It’s been an ongoing case, with law enforcement as well as the university running their own investigations.

The fraternity itself has been suspended, but the rumor is that they will be shut down in the fall.

One thing is for sure, Dakota’s dreams of playing professionally are pretty much over. No team is going to want him with the headline nightmare he’d cause.

The draft is still a month away, but my dad has helped Theo find an agent who's been working to secure a pick with the Burbank Bobcats. Dad’s even sat in on some of their meetings at Theo’s request.

My parents are right beside me, ready to cheer on Theo and the Knights. They’ve adopted him into our family, showing up for him as much as they can, just like they’ve always done for me. Last month, they attended both of our graduation ceremonies, not once complaining about how long they both were.

I have a feeling if we ever have scheduling conflicts, they’d split up to ensure we both had a parent there to cheer us on.

“Bottom of the ninth,” my dad says excitedly.

The Knights are already up by one run. With Ezra at bat, that lead is likely to increase.

With bases loaded, we’re all on the edge of our seats.

Sitting in the stands at the College World Series isn’t something I would have ever predicted I’d be doing—especially not while wearing someone's name on my back and cheering him on like a freaking lunatic.

The pitcher winds up, and Ezra swings. His hit clears the outfield, securing a home run.

Four more runs for the Knights, and they’ll have won the World Series.

Leaving over the railing, I shout, “Fuck yeah, Knights!”

My parents laugh, not even bothering to comment on my language.

Theo’s in the huddle with his team, but his head pops up at the sound of my voice. Then, he’s running over, turning his hat around as he goes. He grabs the railing and pulls himself up.

I grip his face with both hands, kissing him deeply. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Then, I lean in to whisper in his ear, “Bring that jersey home with you. I want to wear it while I ride your cock.”

He groans before dropping back down to the field.

Our future holds so many more moments of celebrating each other, and I can’t wait for every single one.