Greek Kiss

Keeping a Promise

Seba passed our tickets to the attendant, who barely glanced at our seat numbers and waved over his head and mumbled directions. We managed to find our seats before the teams jogged out for the pre-game events.

"Just in time," Seba said, sinking into a seat. We were two rows up from just behind third base.

"The opening ceremonies are just starting," I said, falling into the seat next to him, and shrinking my arm into myself so I wouldn't brush against him. Why did the seats have to be so close together?

"You can't say you've been to a real game unless you're there for the National Anthem," he said.

"I didn't know you were so patriotic for America. You're usually Greek this and Greece that."

"I love Greece, but I've lived here since I was ten," he said, his eyes swinging around to meet mine. "There's a lot to love about being here, too."

My face radiated and I stared off at the field. Rule one, rule one, rule one!

There was an introduction and a name was rattled off about who would sing the anthem. A trail of people filed out, and at the center was a voluptuous blonde, flipping her hair and causing the hem of her halter top to slide precariously low enough over her boobs, revealing enough cleavage to fill the entire stadium.

Seba nudged my arm as he stood and I joined him. When she started to sing, she was offkey and wavering. A couple of guys behind us made loud comments.

"Did they pick their national anthem singers from the strip club down the road?" one bellowed.

"What I want to know is if the stripping starts after..." There was a pause as the blonde that was singing actually reached up and tried to adjust her top, but it actually slipped lower. "Hell, maybe it's starting now."

I groaned internally, pushing a finger to my eyebrow to rub, but released it to stuff a hand over my heart. Seba glanced down at me, grinned and put a palm over his chest. I shared a small smile with him. At least he didn't comment about her boobs.

The song finished with only the crest of the lady's nipple having made an appearance just before the ending notes when the camera redirected to the stands. The men behind us booed as this happened, but I was okay with missing the peep show.

When we were sitting again, I fell into an awkward silence. Seba scanned the crowd and I willed the game to start to give us something to talk about.

Seba didn't seem to notice I was struggling. Maybe I didn't need to talk. It was like a movie, right? We were here to watch, not to talk to much? It had been a problem for this road trip, too. Online, I was a chatter box. In person, I was struggling with what to say to him.

The urge to use the time to get to know him, and for him to get to know me in person, continued. It sat with me as the game started.

Halfway through the first inning, a dad and his son took the seats in front of us. I wasn't sure if they were late to the game or they figured no one was sitting there and they moved closer. The kid was adorable, with a Red Sox cap in a couple sizes too big for his head. He held a glove in his lap, sitting on the edge of his seat. His eyes focused on every fly ball.

Seba leaned in to me, whispering in my ear, "They sat on the wrong side if they were hoping to catch something."

My heart leapt with him so close to me, but I tried to smother the feelings. "You never know," I said. "The other side is crowded. At least on this side, there's less competition."

Seba smirked, sitting back. "Maybe we'll get a leftie."

During the third inning, the seat was starting to get uncomfortable. Part of it was that Seba dominated his arm rest, and I was half leaning on the other side of my seat and into the alley to keep my arm from touching his. Not that I didn't want the excuse to touch him, but I wasn't so sure he would want me to. Plus, every time I relaxed enough that my elbow did make contact with his arm, it sent another jolt of sparks through my core that made it hard to sit still.