“You?” he asks.
“No thanks, I’m good.”
He narrows his eyes. “You sure?”
I narrow my eyes right back. “I’m sure.”
“Yeah, okay.”
He returns ten minutes later with a lap box full of snacks.
“Hungry?” I tease.
He holds out a fresh Diet Coke, seemingly unaware of the still half-full soda resting in the cup holder between us. “You stopped drinking it in the fourth inning because the ice melted.”
Warmth flitters inside my chest. I place the watered-down cup on the ground behind my feet and take the fresh drink from him. “Thank you,” I say through a grin, my teeth clenched around the straw.
He bites back a smile, swigging his beer as he passes a bag of popcorn over Reagan’s shoulder.
A few minutes of comfortable silence pass as batter after batter step up to the plate. I absently sip my soda every few seconds and Connor tips back his beer in tandem. Without a word or even a look, he reaches into his pocket, whips out a bag of peanut butter M&Ms, and sets it on my knee, proud smirk in place. Looking down at my favorite candy, I can’t help but smile at the gesture.
I waste no time before I rip into the bag. “This may say ‘share size’ but don’t get any ideas.”
Connor guffaws. “Please! Nobody wants to share that trash.”
“He’s not wrong,” Drew pipes in without so much as a backwards glance.
I clutch the candy to my chest. “Blasphemers!”
Connor chuckles as I pop a handful of the candies into my mouth. I answer his throaty laugh with a pestering look as he pulls another swig from his beer. I track the swallow that moves down his throat. Our eyes catch. Heat and memories creep in before his gaze drops to my mouth. The visible pulse point on his neck matches the rhythm of my own heart pounding wildly behind my sternum.
I clear my throat and avert my eyes, cutting the tension, as I reach for more candy. Connor shifts in his seat until all points of bodily contact between us are lost. The change in his mood is palpable. Jaw clenched, he removes his hat and pushes a hand through his hair before he takes another drink, his other hand flexing a few times on his knee.
I’m halfway through my M&Ms when Drew turns around to face us. “Let’s all go out after this,” he says.
“I can’t,” I answer. “I need to get back home to check on Mom’s cat.”
“I still can’t believe she got a cat. Dad hates cats.”
“Yeah, but he loves Mom, so…” I shrug.
“Your dad is such a lovesick little puppy. It’s adorable,” Reagan interjects.
“If you say so,” Drew and I say in unison, like the annoying siblings we are, and it makes the lot of us laugh.
My brother turns to Connor. “Vining? You wanna come to IHOP with us? Breakfast for dinner sounds hella good.”
“Nah, I’m gonna head home. Not really up for being a third wheel tonight.”
“You know, that wouldn’t be the case if you’d get your head out of your ass and work things out with Lauren,” Drew says, tone clipped.
Connor stares sharply at his best friend, unflinching. Drew ignores the warning with a shrug. “Well?”
Nobody is more curious than I am to know what happened between Connor and his long-term girlfriend, but he’s made it clear the subject is not up for discussion right now.
Reagan diverts the conversation, digging her forefinger and thumb into Drew’s bicep. “Drew! Leave him alone!”
“Ahhh! Shit, babe! Your nails penetrated my skin,” Drew cries as he grasps his injured arm.
