Chapter 21

Strawberry swung. And missed. He swung again. And missed again. Well, that’s okay. He still looked good in the red helmet.

Another ball. Another swing. Another miss. Well a miss hit, actually. He tipped it. 

“Almost,” I encouraged from the bench.

He failed to acknowledge my comment. In silent prayer, I asked the universe for slugger intervention. I even offered to give up chocolate for a week if he could just hit the ball. I thought that was a pretty good deal.

I was concerned. He now had only 27 more opportunities from the ball machine to make contact. I watched with great apprehension. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come to the batting cages after all.

When we arrived at the park, I had volunteered to go first. Being a decent batter, I hit all 30 pitches that came barreling my way, and fouled only once. The foul popped up, came straight down, and bounced twice off my head. Thank God for that purple sparkly headgear.

Now there he was, taking his turn like a real trooper. My Mr. Strawberry, standing there with such earnestness, such commitment, struggling to connect. Who knew he would suck at baseball?

He did hit ball number 13. Not far, but he did hit it. “Atta boy,” I cheered. This time he turned and winked. At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor.

By the time it was over, Strawberry connected with a total of five balls. Probably a record of some sort. But he didn’t seem too bothered by his lack of aptitude with a stick and an orb. Instead he took it like a man, dropping his bat and planting a virile kiss upon my lips. He might not be good at baseball, but he was a good sport and a darn good kisser.

“Now let’s hit the putt-putt range,” Strawberry whispered in my ear.

Imagine my shock at this suggestion. He had to be kidding. My heart couldn’t bear it, how could his?

“Ah, no need. Let’s just go get a slice of cheesecake and call it a day,” I said running my hands through his thick, red hair.

“No, let’s give it a go. Are you game?” he asked, gently tapping my tush.

“Well,” I said, a little distracted by the tapping, “I’m a game kind of girl, so yes, let’s go putt-putt.”

He was up to something but I wasn’t sure what.

to be continued...