Romance at Heart: free romance reads, Chapter One of Joshua’s Closet by Melody Porter

Joshua’s Closet

by

Melody Porter

CHAPTER 1

“Where is he? We were supposed to meet here at two. I hate when people are late. If I could afford for my GPA to drop, I would leave,” Ryan mumbled to himself as he looked around the student hall in agitation. “If he isn’t here in ten minutes I am gone.” All he saw were young women in tight skirts flipping their hair and smiling at anything with testosterone. Wish I had the time, but I’ve got too much to do today.

One young woman, however, stuck out. She was sitting in the corner with her legs up in a chair reading a book on early Egyptian artifacts. Even with the Charm’s Pop in her mouth, she looked intellectual. Her hair was natural ringlets of tight curls that fell on her shoulders. The oversized sweatshirt and baggy sweatpants gave the appearance she was hiding herself and didn’t want to be noticed. Ryan felt that if he asked her about Ronnie Somers she wouldn’t think he was flirting with her.

He walked over to her with his hands in the pockets of his hoodie; they had a game today and he didn’t want to be late getting to the field. He loved playing baseball, but played now only for the scholarship. Something about having to play for a reason took the joy out of it.

Ryan was tall in stature with strong lean muscles etched like a stone statue. He decided to ask the young woman sitting in the chair if she had seen the tutor he was looking to meet in the hall.

“Excuse me,” he spoke to her, but received no response immediately. “Excuse me,” he spoke a little louder this time, but noticed she was wearing ear buds and was listening to music. He lightly touched her on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”

Surprised that someone had interrupted her, she looked up from her book. He finally saw her face. It was a pretty one, oval in shape with high cheekbones, and eyes dark as night that pierced into his soul. Her skin was pure with no makeup and was the color of cocoa.

She looked at him, questioning his actions. If she didn’t like his answer she would let him know immediately.

Ryan felt afraid but wasn’t sure why, and tried to gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry to interrupt your reading, but I was wondering if you know a Ronnie Somers?”

Annoyed she sighed before asking, “Who wants to know?” Realizing she might have a less than friendly face, she tried to soften her expression while she took out the ear buds.

He began to explain his inquiry. “I am supposed to meet him here at two, and he hasn’t shown up. Do you know him?”

“Yes, but Roni is not a he. I am Roni.” Shaking her head, she asked, “Are you my student?”

Feeling like an idiot, he said, “It looks that way. Hi, I’m Ryan Grant,” and extended his hand.

For a brief moment, he saw a slight smile on her face. Looking up she told him, “Professor Lincoln thinks it is hilarious for students to walk in and find out Roni is a female.” She accepted his hand. “Nice to meet you. What is your schedule like tomorrow? I have one morning class and one after three.”

“Well, I have African American Studies after three so I probably need to study before then. Will one o’clock be okay?”

“Sure, meet you here?” she asked.

“Yeah, now that I know who you are, I won’t be standing around looking stupid.”

“Now you know I am just a tutor,” she teased.

Thinking of what he had just said, he smiled. “Sorry about the mistake, please don’t hold that against me.”

“Don’t worry, it happens every time,” she told him while putting the book in her backpack. He noticed her eyes again, deep and dark. Very strong eyes that were not easily intimidated. He could tell because she didn’t look away when she spoke to you. She knew her strengths and didn’t have to play the games he saw so many young women playing on campus.

Roni walked to the door of the student hall as he followed her and then reached for the door. Used to opening her own doors, she tried not to show her uneasiness at Ryan’s gesture. As she passed him, she noticed his green eyes. Only two percent of the world population has green eyes she remembered reading somewhere. Deep green eyes that seemed shy and frightened if pressed.

The cleft in his chin made the light stubble of a beard apparent in the sunlight. His hair was very dark at the roots, but was bleached slightly by the sun giving it a brown highlight. The loose curls gave him the appearance of a Greek God statue, identifying him as an athlete. He caught her stare, but only briefly was able to look into her eyes before having to look away.

Walking through the door, she turned to look back at him. “Don’t forget to bring your book tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered with the smile of a child who had just gotten her approval.

Roni knew she seemed frightening to those unfamiliar with her, but she was always on guard. Her mother died when she was entering high school, leaving her to face all the things most girls had their mothers around to help them through: first crush, dating, first kiss, and first heartbreak. Knowing she would be alone with these teen dilemmas, she decided to apply herself more academically.

Although her father tried hard to be strong for her and Lawrence, losing the love of his life was devastating. He saw her image every time he looked at Roni. She knew her father loved her, but the pain was too great for him to be around her. Therefore, she helped Lawrence with his homework and took care of things around the house while Larry worked.

Larry was a contractor, building and remodeling homes all over New York. Their brownstone was one of his projects in his spare time. He had met Bernice, an artist, while remolding the gallery where she worked.

Bernice left South Carolina to attend the New York Academy of Art for her graduate degree. Although Bernice’s family did not want her to leave, she wanted to create things and sculpting was her passion. When her children were born she created images of them on pieces of wood she found when she visited her birthplace of Rock Hill.

She spent hours walking in the woods behind the family home looking for the right piece of wood to speak to her. Bernice had always said, “Every living thing will speak to you, if you are willing to listen.” Sometimes it was as if her mother was whispering words of advice to Roni when she was lonely.

Roni understood her father’s pain; it felt as if she had cut her finger on the edge of a piece of paper. Small and unseen to most, it hurt worse than a gaping hole when she least expected it.

Ryan waited as she walked around the corner of the building before he began his sprint to the gym. It was close to game time and he needed to hurry before his team took the field.

He had played baseball since he was a little kid when he hadn’t even been big enough to keep his batting helmet on his head, but had run the bases as if he were a pro. As Ryan got older, his catching skills and quickness groomed him for the position of shortstop, which was his favorite position because it was always busy. In the outfield if the game was slow, a person could get lost in their surroundings, but as shortstop, you had to keep your eyes on the ball.

“Ryan, you just made it,” Coach Rey teased him. The coach knew if anyone was going to be on time it would be Ryan. The first to show up and the last to leave, he wished Ryan would be more serious about pro ball. “That kid would make it to the majors easily,” Coach Rey would say. Unfortunately, Ryan wasn’t interested in pro ball; he desired to finish college and become an architect.

Growing up in a family of mechanics, Ryan had chosen a different path. He had learned from hanging around the garage with his grandfather and father that being a mechanic was not something he wanted to do for a living.

During the summers and after school he assisted with oil changes, wheel balancing, and rebuilding motors, which was fun but not his dream. Although it was an honest living and provided well for their family, he wanted something different out of life. Besides, his cousin Jake was there with his father now and he loved working in the garage.

Walking over to his locker, Ryan turned the dial on the combination to 4-25-42 and opened his locker. He sat on the bench reaching for his socks and began to put them on. Why would anyone name a girl Roni? Strange, but I still feel like an idiot for looking for a guy. Ryan began to analyze the events from earlier as he dressed for the game. How was I to know he was a girl? I mean she was a girl. Even in my own mind, I can’t get it straight. She is graduating this year; I wonder why I haven’t seen her before. Well this is a big campus, but we must have had a class somewhere together, he thought while tying up his cleats before grabbing his glove to walk out of the locker room with his teammates to take the field.

Ryan made conversation with his teammates, not really listening to what was being said as they sat in the dugout. His mind kept taking him back to meeting Roni. Even though he saw her when he first walked in, he didn’t really notice her. Why had he not noticed her? Was it because she wasn’t talking to anyone or because she wasn’t wearing a short skirt and flirting with all the men in the room? Strange that she wasn’t flirting with anyone. After all, she wasn’t the only black female there. What made him ask her about Roni Somers?

Once she looked up, he had to admit she was beautiful even with the attitude. It wasn’t the fact she was a woman that made him stumble for words; it was her, just her. It could have been any other woman in the room and he wouldn’t have been so stunned. I have got to get her out of my head, I have a game to play, Ryan reminded himself.

“Grant,” Coach Rey yelled for the third time, “are you sleeping over there?” A roar of laughter came from his teammates; Ryan just smiled bashfully and climbed out of the dugout and onto the field.

He jogged out to his position, looking back into the stands and wondered if Roni had come to the game, but there was no sign of her. What am I thinking, why would she be here? She doesn’t look like the sports kind of woman, he thought to himself. It might be to my advantage for her not to be, because I would be trying to look at her instead of watching the ball. After all, she seemed more like a ballerina type of woman, never getting her hands dirty, and probably thought men that spit were nasty. No, she wouldn’t be at a baseball game; they spit all the time. Yeah, she would prefer to be at some poetry reading, an art exhibit, or wine tasting event. That’s it; she is a wine tasting kind of woman.

Why did that matter to him? He didn’t care what she did as long as she helped him get a better grade in African American Studies. Although he knew the reason for their meeting, his mind kept taking him back to Roni’s beauty. She looked like an Egyptian queen with those dark eyes and brown skin. The kind of woman that when she walked into a room you knew she was in charge.

“What is my problem? I act as if I have never seen a beautiful woman before. She isn’t the first nor will she be the last. Okay, Ryan, get your head in the game,” he tried to discipline himself.

Trying to settle into the position of shortstop, he adjusted the brim of his cap determined to get through the game uninjured. Ryan knew he was in for a very long game.

* * * *

“What era are you studying now?” Roni asked without looking up from the book as she turned the pages slowly.

The Cougars game was last night and Ryan hadn’t even cracked open his book before their study session. He opened up his schedule and saw they were now on the period after the Civil War. “We are starting the reconstruction after the Civil War,” he nervously told her. How could he have been so stupid, not being prepared for this session? After all, he thought about it all night. Feeling her eyes on him, he was afraid to look up and stare into them.

Roni saw he was very nervous, but she couldn’t understand why. Sensing this, she touched his arm and smiled, causing him to look at her. For a brief moment, she was lost for words. His eyes were captivating. To break the trance she looked back at the book, fumbling with her own words. “Strange time in history for former slaves. They were released from their chains but not really free. Some went North; others became share croppers putting themselves in a different kind of slavery.”

“Different kind of slavery?” he asked.

“Yes, they were still pretty much living on the land of the slave owners and worked for a portion of the crops. Many were cheated or forced off the land after the crops were harvested when the landowners didn’t want to give them a share. The former masters would accuse them of stealing, or if they questioned their share would run them off the property. They would then have to find a new place for their families to live and a place for them to work.”

She adjusted in her chair before finishing. “There were improvements in some areas of the South like Louisiana. The streetcars were desegregated in 1867; experiments with integrating public schools in 1869; and legalization of interracial marriages between 1868 and 1896. They also elected a total of thirty-two black state senators and ninety-five state representatives, and had integrated juries, public boards, and police departments.”

“Wow, how do you remember all that?”

“I’m reading it from this chapter in your book,” she giggled looking at him.

Ryan felt like he was two inches tall and put his head on the table. “Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.” Feeling her hand on his back patting him lightly made his body tingle at her touch.

“It’s okay, loosen up, don’t be so tense,” she said, hoping she was making him feel a little more at ease. She had to ask herself, Am I that intimidating?

Raising his head slowly, he hoped she was still smiling so he could see that glow about her. When she smiled her eyes danced to their own music, and her nose would wrinkle just a little as her lips curled to form the fullness of a smile. In his mind, she turned her head in slow motion to look back at the book. His eyes didn’t want to lose one frame of her face from memory.

“Now, during this time period the ‘black codes’ were established to limit black opportunities. Taxes were placed on free blacks who tried to pursue nonagricultural professions and restricted their ability to succeed. They weren’t allowed to rent land, buy guns, and in some cases, their children were taken and put into apprenticeships of former slave masters. During this time the KKK was established to terrorize blacks into submission.”

“Hi, Ryan!” the voice of a young woman interrupted them as she walked toward their table. “Great game yesterday.” She stood beside his chair leaning on the table making sure he saw her breasts.

“Ah, thanks,” he clumsily replied then looked toward Roni. She was reading the chapter for more information, seeming to ignore his conversation.

Noticing she didn’t have his complete attention, the young woman wrapped his hair around her finger. “What are you doing this evening?” she asked.

“Right now, I am in the middle of a study session.”

“Will you be available later?” she asked leaning closer to him.

“Don’t think so, have a crap load of stuff to do.”

Looking at Roni, she competed for his attention. “I might need some tutoring tonight.”

“What subject?” Ryan looked at Roni, asking her, “What subjects do you tutor?”

Roni looked up from the book. “African American Studies and Art History, but I don’t think she needs me.” Without emotion, she went back to reading the book.

“I don’t tutor anything so you might want to check the board for the subject you need,” Ryan suggested.

Releasing his hair the young woman straightened herself. “I guess I will check the board.”

Without looking up, Roni teased, “You know, you were wrong for that.”

“What? She is husband hunting and probably knows more about my GPA than I do. Besides I am not the only one she is after.”

“Oh, really now,” Roni looked at him sternly. “So you’re not her only option?”

“What are you trying to say? I’m not a good catch?” he questioned with his eyes fixated on her.

When he looked at her, she saw his beautiful green eyes staring back. Powerless looking into his eyes, she turned away from his stare. “I just thought you were the big man on campus.” Unable to contain her laughter she laid her head on the table. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t resist teasing you a little.” Roni leaned back into the chair as she looked at him with her laughing eyes.

Finally he saw the real Roni. She had a sense of humor and seemed easy to talk to. “Okay, you got me. It’s just that we are here studying and she didn’t respect that. Sorry if I seem so tense, but I am worried about this class.”

“Don’t worry; history is easy when you connect it with the people. Most of the time we see history as dates and events instead of a peek into the hearts and minds of the people; in time you will start to understand the people too. Besides you’ve got me to help you with your next test.” Roni picked up her cell phone to turn off the alarm. “Time is up!” Like a robot, she began to gather her things.

Not wanting their time to end, he asked, “Going to lunch?” Now that was a stupid question, he thought to himself, but tried not to let that show on his face.

She looked over her shoulder. “As a matter of fact, yes. Are you?”

Shocked she didn’t just smack him down, he said “Yeah! You go on campus?”

She nodded. “You can pick my brain, and I won’t charge you for the time.” Slinging her book bag over her shoulder, she waited for him to finish putting his stuff away. After he tightened the straps and slung his bag over his shoulder, they walked to the door of the student hall.

On their stroll to “G” Hall for lunch, he wanted to engage Roni in conversation but didn’t know how to start.

Sensing the awkwardness of the stroll, Roni asked, “Where are you from?”

“Born and raised in Virginia, you?”

“Harlem, New York.”

“Harlem?” he repeated before he thought about how it sounded. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out,” he apologized.

Roni stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong with Harlem?”

“Nothing, never been there. Just thought it was a rough area and you don’t seem like you come from that environment.”

“What environment?” she inquired of his comment.

“Look, when you say Harlem things like crime, street gangs, and total chaos come to mind. Like I said, I don’t know anything about Harlem and I am sorry if I offended you.” Ryan looked into her face to sense how bad he had insulted her.

“Sorry, I can be a little sensitive sometimes.” Roni began to walk with him again. “Harlem is not what you see on TV or in the Blaxploitation movies from the seventies. Like most towns or cities, Harlem has its pluses and minuses. My father does construction and my mom was an artist so we live in Central Harlem. Contrary to common belief, life in the city isn’t a hip-hop video. I’m sure in the town you are from there is crime.”

Ryan had to admit Roni was right; he had prejudged Harlem by media images that only showed the negative. Just because the majority of the people were African American didn’t make it a bad or dangerous place. The people that lived there wanted the same things as everyone else. He began to realize people weren’t as different as he had thought.

“G” Hall contained the campus dining room and was the place you were most likely to get food poisoning. Roni reminded herself, He wants to have lunch, so it won’t kill me or at least I hope not. Looking at the array of things on the daily menu, she decided on the lasagna and garlic bread with a side salad. Walking behind her, Ryan got the same thing without the salad, exchanging it for a piece of cake for dessert. Watching closely when they arrived at the cashier, Ryan told the student at the register, “I got it.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Roni told him but was flattered at the gesture.

“I invited you, remember,” he flashed a boyish smile as he paid the cashier.

Feeling this was an argument she wasn’t going to win, Roni just smiled, shaking her head as a sign of surrender. She then looked for an empty table. Seeing one in the middle of the dining hall she asked Ryan, “Will that one be okay?”

“Hey, Ryan, over here,” came a voice from across the room. Ryan looked back where some of his teammates were eating with a group of young women, one of whom he had just seen earlier.

“Thanks, but Roni and I are eating together.” He glanced down at her and smiled. Again, the voice louder this time, “You can bring her,” with some childish amusement that followed. Ryan just ignored them, looking back at Roni. “Some people never grow up.”

Roni pretended not to hear and proceeded to the table. After getting herself situated, she waited for Ryan to get comfortable in his seat. Not wanting Ryan to feel bad by the silliness of his teammates, Roni decided to make light conversation. “How long have you been playing baseball?” she asked while eating her salad.

Ryan was still embarrassed because of that stupid comment, forgetting that if it had been someone else, he probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Roni was not a pet or an object but a person. Now that he was studying African American history, it had opened his eyes to the reality that life was not always fair to people of different races. Developing this friendship with Roni had brought forth feelings he had never noticed before.

Looking into her face, he saw the small patch of freckles on the bridge of her nose. They looked like someone had dipped their fingers into paint then splattered them on her face, each one landing in the perfect spot, enhancing her cheekbones and showing their strong structure.

Not receiving an answer, Roni looked over at him. Ryan tried to get his thoughts together to remember the question she had asked. Reaching for the peppershaker on the table, he said, “Since I was big enough to hold a bat around three or four with tee ball,” not looking up because he couldn’t look at her without getting lost in thought.

“Tee ball?” she asked although she knew the answer having played it herself, but wanted to keep him talking.

“It’s like baseball without the pitcher. At that age most of us couldn’t hit the side of the barn, much less swing a bat to hit a ball.” They both laughed quietly at the comment. Ryan wanted to keep her smiling as he watched her wrinkle her nose as she laughed. “I remember being at bat once swinging so hard I hit myself in the head with the bat. Do you think I could still have brain damage from that?” he joked.

Roni began to laugh at his poking fun at himself. “No, I don’t think so,” she settled back to herself. “So that was the beginning of your career in baseball?”

“Yeah, I guess, but it isn’t as much fun as it used to be when I was a kid. It really makes a difference when you do something for fun and then having to do it for an education. When I was growing up, I would play all day never getting tired. Now I sometimes dread going to practice. Playing the game is like going to a job you hate, but know you need the paycheck.”

“What position do you play?” she asked looking into his eyes as they stared back at her. They were such an odd color of green, more of a deep emerald with golden flecks that seemed to dance around the pupils. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t.

“Shortstop,” he said with excitement now. “In the past I have played all over the field, but shortstop was always my favorite position.”

“Why shortstop?” she inquired of his choice.

“I guess because you have to keep your head in the game. In that position, most hitters are right-handed and when they hit, it generally goes between second and third base. Being left-handed, I catch with my right hand keeping most grounders from getting to the outfield. When the other players move around the diamond, I have to move in to cover their area for double plays.” Embarrassed by his excitement, Ryan apologized, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to bore you with talk about baseball.”

“You’re not boring me; you should see the thrill in your eyes when you talk about playing that position. Admit it you really love the game. Come on, it's okay to love it,” she lightly nudged his upper arm. Nice arm, she thought to herself. Lean muscles, not bulky, almost like one of those dancers in that play the Lion King she remembered seeing when she was younger.

Wanting to know more about the seemingly mysterious woman sitting with him he asked, “What is your major?”

She sighed, because Roni hated talking about herself. “I did my Bachelors in Fine Arts, but I am now working on my graduate degree and am geared more toward ancient Egyptian artifacts.” Feeling the excitement, she continued, “It is awesome looking at those pieces created thousands of years ago with limited tools but so precise in creation. Think of the pyramids, the way they were built was phenomenal.” She saw him laughing at her because she had gotten so into the conversation her hands were moving as she talked about her major. She wasn’t sure why, but she felt comfortable letting herself go in front of Ryan.

“Hi, Roni!” she heard a voice with a Middle Eastern accent. “Is this seat taken?”

She looked at Ryan to see if he objected. He didn’t but he hated having to share her. “No, join us. Ryan, this is Ansari. Ansari, Ryan,” she introduced the two men.

Both men acknowledged each other; Ryan tried to put on a pleasant face as Ansari took his seat. Feeling the tension, Roni started the conversation moving again. “Ansari is majoring in engineering.” Although she was really enjoying chatting with Ryan, Ansari had been a longtime friend and she wouldn’t insult him.

His first year had been tough enough for him when they both arrived on campus as freshmen. With his small frame, he was targeted and his being from the Middle East by way of Chicago didn’t help. With the terrorists attacking on American soil, anyone that looked like him was fair game for bullies.

His black curly hair was longer on the top, shorter on the sides, and shined like glass. Ansari’s complexion was darker than Roni’s and flawless. His features were almost fairy-like, giving him a youthful appearance. The two had met at orientation when some older students bumped into him causing him to drop his books. Roni rushed over to help pick them up, starting their friendship.

Ansari knew it would be hard attending a Southern university, but never dreamed he would have to deal with such hatred. Roni was one of the few students that saw him as a friend when all the others, even those of Middle Eastern decent, wouldn’t speak to him.

They wanted to be like the traditional American student and had lost who they were to achieve that, which puzzled Ansari. Just because he was Arab and celebrated his heritage didn’t make him a foreigner. He was a second generation American.

“Are you majoring in engineering, Ryan?” Ansari asked as he ate his lunch.

“No, architecture. Did I have a class with you a couple of years ago?” Ryan seemed to recognize him. “Did you have Dr. Vishal?”

“Don’t say that man's name. I still have nightmares about him.” Speaking in a fake Indian accent, pulling his chin into his chest, Ansari mimicked Dr. Vishal. “Mr. Amin,” he said, shaking his head as if he had a nervous twitch, “I am sure you know the answer to this formula.” They all burst into laughter and everyone in the dining hall was curious as to what was so funny.

It took Ryan back to a class that had almost made him run home to his mother. Dr. Vishal seemed to pick on them even though they sat in different parts of the classroom. They had both tried to move, only to be found by his evil eyes.

Dr. Vishal was a tall man without expression of any kind. No smile, with dead eyes that stared sternly at you, making you stammer your words. You knew he received joy from intimidating you, but it never showed on his face. His towering structure only made him more threatening, but in reality, he only wanted the best from his students and challenged those he knew would go far. If it had not been for Dr. Vishal, they both wouldn’t have excelled in their chosen majors, because you had to think three steps ahead of him.

“I had forgotten about him,” Roni sighed at the forgotten memory. “I remember Ansari coming to study sessions and he would be literally pulling his hair out.”

“See,” he pulled his hair back, “that bald spot belongs to Dr. Vishal.” Again, they erupted with laughter and spent the next hour just laughing and sharing class horror stories.

Roni looked at her watch. “Oh, look at the time. I have got to get out of here.” She began to gather her things and so did Ryan and Ansari as they prepared to leave.

“Good seeing you again, Ryan.” Ansari leaned over and kissed Roni on the cheek lightly. “Are we on for Friday?”

“Yeah, around seven thirty okay?”

“Great, see you then.” Like the whirlwind he came in on, he whisked away just as quickly.

Ryan’s heart sank when he saw him kiss her. How could he have been so stupid? They were dating. Looking a little nervous, he mentioned to Roni, “I didn’t know you and Ansari were dating.”

Looking puzzled Roni asked, “Dating? Oh, no, we are just very close friends and I can’t say I ever looked at him that way or he, me. What made you think that?”

“Well, he kissed you goodbye and you have plans on Friday. I just assumed the two of you were a couple, sorry.”

“Friday night is our group bonding time. We just hang out, eat pizza, talk about the week, and make each other laugh. Nothing major, just time we relax from classes.”

Ryan was curious about her comment “we” and it showed on his face. Roni sensed this and continued, “Just a small group of students from different countries and cultures. We all met our freshmen year and have been there for each other like a family.”

“Oh, okay.”

Put into a peculiar situation, Roni felt she should invite Ryan to the gathering. He would be the only one there not a person of color or different culture which might be a little awkward, although she and the others often joked about it being the rainbow club. “Would you like to come?” she asked.

“Yeah, sounds like fun.” He could barely keep his composure because he was hoping she would invite him. “Only on one condition,” he paused, “if you come see me play tomorrow.”

“Are you serious?” she smiled broadly up at him.

“Yeah, come watch me play. It might rekindle my love of the game.”

With a smile she sighed, “Oh, okay,” dragging the words from her tongue, trying to hide her feelings of excitement that he had invited her.

“Now, you can pretend to be a little more excited when you say that.”

She smiled with that little wrinkle of her nose. “I would love to come to your game tomorrow. What time?”

“Three o’clock and don’t be late,” Ryan told her as he turned to leave. Walking out, he noticed his teammates staring at him inquiringly. At that moment, he didn’t care, because Roni was coming to his game and that’s all that mattered.