“Did you watch me play?” he asks, voice hopeful and keen, like my answer will determine something for him. I just don’t know what. “There was nothing else to watch, so yeah, I watched the game.” He chuckles, his warm breath fanning my neck, making me shiver. “But did you watch me?” “Do you mean, were my eyes solely on number six the entire two and a half hours? The player everyone calls Sparky? Did I happen to see the multiple double plays, the home run, and hear the commentators get hard-ons from watching him play?”
