Pitching for Her Love by Tori Blake Read Free Book Online Page B

recognize him.  He had taken his hat off once we had crossed behind the first black curtain, and some people were bound to have recognize him as we found our seats.  I just crossed my fingers that it didn’t cause a scene.
    “You can just ignore them,” he said as he leaned over to me.
    “Does this happen everywhere?” I asked.
    He shrugged, signaling that yes, more or less, this did happen everywhere.
    Fortunately, at that moment, the black curtain at the front of the stage, similar to the one we had crossed through only minutes before, began to rise.  I was grateful for the silence of the crowd and slid deeper into my seat.
    I had never been to a Cirque du Soleil show before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the stage filled suddenly with people who were part dancer, part gymnast, and part magic.  The show was fantastic.  At one point, Grayson reached over and took my hand.  It was as casual and normal as if he were saying hello.  I liked it too. It felt right and good, and the silence in which we sat was comfortable and happy.
    He explained the meaning behind some of the moves and dances we were seeing; apparently this show was meant to symbolize and interpret ancient Malaysian culture.  I began to get excited whenever something new would begin, because I knew he would lean over and whisper in my ear what to expect.  The performers’ bodies contorted and flew about the stage as if the laws of physics ceased to apply in that small space, and they all represented a story or a ritual from a long ago time.  The show itself told a story, and toward the end I didn’t need Grayson to whisper the meaning to me, but I wanted him to anyway.  He smelled like the bonfires I remembered from childhood. He smelled like the beach, and the sunset, all the happy memories I had.  His smell felt like home.
    When the final number was over and the lights came back on dimly, we decided to wait silently for the rest of the audience to leave.
    “What did you think?” he asked.
    “I really loved it,” I said in earnest.
    He breathed an audible sigh of relief and smiled.
    “I’m glad,” he said. “I saw you and your friends in the paper earlier this week, and I thought a show like this may seem a little corny to you.”
    For a moment I wasn’t sure what to say.  He was right. Usually this would not have been my ideal Saturday night, but with him it had been fantastic.  I was also a little embarrassed that he had seen me in the paper.  I opened my mouth to say something and he held up a hand.
    “Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you had fun.” He smiled and then motioned to the doors.  “It seems like almost everyone is out. Should we go?”
    I nodded and stood up and began the slow walk toward the back of the venue.  When we reached the main doors, the lobby was still a little crowded, and Grayson got a lot of glances and hushed whispers in his direction as we walked by.  A few people pulled out their cell phones and tried to snap some discreet pictures.  I turned my face toward the ground and quickened my step.
    Once we were outside, the crowds were more dispersed and I felt like I could breathe a little better.  Suddenly, all my outings with Amanda, Megan, and the regulars seemed like child’s play compared to what Grayson must endure on a daily basis.
    “Did you drive?” he asked.
    “I did,” I said and pointed in the vague direction of my car.  “I’m parked a couple blocks down that way.”
    “I’ll walk with you,” he said, and we continued chatting about the show.
    I don’t know whether I was walking slowly intentionally or if my shoes were more painful than I remembered, but I think I didn’t want the night to be over.
    “I’d ask you to a late dinner, but we have training early in the morning,” he said.
    In my experience, this sort of excuse was used to get out of a terrible date, similar to the way I had ended my date with Greg only last weekend, but there was genuine