Out of My League

Chapter 8 (Noah)

I don't know this city half as well as I acted like I did in front of Izzy.

Speaking of Izzy, she probably thinks that I am the biggest pessimist in the history of pessimists.

She'd sort of looked at me like she couldn't tell whether I was trying to be funny or genuinely had a depressing attitude, but I couldn't answer her silent question because I didn't know the answer.

I just acted like I didn't see her look.

Now, I'm leading her back through the streets we'd just passed through.

She has this child-like gleam in her eyes as we walk through the streets, like every car we're walking past is the first time she's seeing one and every bird, flying high in the sky, is a new breed.

She's the kind of person that you want to be around because they seem like the life they're living is so fun.

She's definitely someone who lives life to the fullest, who is always down to adventure, who is so full of life and love that you just want to be around them all of the time.

"Where are we going?" She asks as we round the parking garage, heading back towards our original direction.

I might not know the city of Los Angeles as well as I should, but one thing I do know is the baseball park.

And for her to play on that would be a dream come true.

"You'll see," I say, breaking into a slight jog, my sandals scuffing on the sidewalk, "Follow me."

She does without hesitation.

When we arrive back at the stadium, I can't help but smile at how confused she looks.

"What are we doing back here? I thought you wanted to leave."

"I do," I reply, "I mean, I did, but then I realized that there's no place that either of us want to be more."

Her small, satisfied blush alerts me to the fact that I'm right.

I knew it.

"Isn't it locked?"

"Well, if it is," I say, tugging on the gate, "I know the password."

"Why do you know the password?"

"Because I'm a member of the team."

She giggles at the goofy look I send her while she walks through the open, not locked gate.

The field is eerily silent - the kind of silence I usually only hear on practice days.

It's a little weird to be here in my game-day jersey, but feel like it's a practice day.

"What are we doing?" She asks.

"Well, I was thinking that, maybe, you could get some batting practice in."

Her jaw drops to the turf below her feet, "I get to take batting practice here?"

"If you want to," I shrug and then realize a very important question that I should probably ask her first, "You ever take batting practice before?"

"Nope."

"You didn't play softball in high school?"

"I always wanted to," she answers, voice eager, "But my - I didn't."

I disregard whatever she'd been about to say, "Ever held a bat?"

"No," she says, "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"No," I answer, honestly, "But we're going to do it anyway."

She tries to look unsure, but the sparkle in her eyes alerts me to the fact that this might be the most exciting thing that she's ever done.