Public Relations

Chapter Fourteen

I shift in my seat, sneaking a glance at August. He's leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the pitcher who's shaking his head and fidgeting with the ball behind his back. I can't tell if August is just absorbed in the game or if he's quiet because of the constant shouting of I love you, Maisie! And Is he the secret boyfriend? Or what's his name?

For the last two innings, August has mostly tuned out the crowd, only occasionally glancing back at the stadium, turning so that his gray t-shirt with the Boston Red Sox logo stretches deliciously across his chest. My hands itch to place my palms on that chest and slide them up into his hair. I want to pull him close and kiss him, just like I've been obsessing about since he kissed me in front of his house and then again at the Ice Cream Shop.

My phone vibrates in my hand, snapping me out of my thoughts. I glance down at a text from Andrea, "You could not look more uncomfortable."

I stifle a quiet groan, shifting again in my chair, just as another text buzzes in, "At least act like you're enjoying yourself."

"You okay?" August asks, and I quickly snap my head up to meet his gaze.

I force out a smile and nod vigorously—probably too much—and then stand from my seat, muttering, "I'm going to use the restroom."

"Okay," he says it like a question, watching as I awkwardly back my way out of the row of seats.

"I'll be right back," I add hastily. Once I turn around, I practically sprint up the steps towards the VIP lounge.

The moment I step inside, I pull out my phone and call Andrea. It only rings once before she answers. The first thing she says is, "You look like you're in pain."

"Gee, Andrea, thanks," I say dryly, scanning the room before spotting a quiet section by the couches in the corner. "How do you even know what I look like?"

"I brought binoculars."

"Of course you did."

"What's wrong, Mace? You were doing so well earlier with the whole 'I'm taken' thing, saying, 'That handsome guy is mine,' and all."

"I think it's too much," I rush out, my voice edged with panic.

"What? What's too much?"

August's expression when I looked over at him in the clubhouse with all the players. He seemed so uncomfortable. It's taking everything in to not just take him by the arm and drag him back to his house and hide him there forever. This is exactly why I've avoided going out with him in public. It's a lot to handle. Even for me, it's overwhelming a lot of the time. I've just learned to smile through it, but for August? It might be too much.

"All of this," I gesture urgently around me, even though Andrea can't see it. "Everyone staring, people wanting pictures of me— of us. I told you this was a bad idea. He's not going to want to be part of my life if it's too much for him. People are going to find out where he works and lives and— oh my god. I'm never going to be able to go to his house again. Paparazzi will find it, and they'll never leave him alone after that—"