Love By Number Read online

  Aidan hadn’t been pleased.

  Now, he walked the approximately ten- to twelve-foot line of fiberglass boats, stopping to study each one as if it held the answer as to why Jesse had brought him here. Despite being buried in partway into the ground, each boat extended well above their heads. They looked like the world’s most creative yard art with the woods as a backdrop and grass that still held its lush color this close to the river despite falling temperatures.

  “It’s not nearly as impressive as the pictures I’ve seen of Stonehenge.”

  “I don’t think it’s meant to be an exact replica. They are boats, so it’s kind of ridiculous, right?”

  Aidan smiled wide, eyes lit up with amusement, and Jesse felt his heart kick.

  “Yeah, it is ridiculous. But clever too. I get it.” He gave a firm nod.

  Jesse grinned. “Yeah, got to love that Midwest spirit. We’re tacky yet charming.”

  Aidan ran a hand over the hull of a red boat. He pushed it, but it didn’t budge. Seeing him there in front of the boat gave Jesse an idea. He pulled out his phone and approached.

  “Here, let’s get a selfie.”

  Jesse had an ulterior motive. He wanted a picture of Aidan he could use later. For a portrait. Totally innocent motive, but he didn’t want to give Aidan the wrong idea, or maybe the right idea, about his desire to draw him.

  “A … what? No way. I don’t do selfies.”

  Jesse nudged in close, wrapping an arm around Aidan’s shoulders — the better to selfie, of course — and held up his camera in front of their heads. “Smile and say Boathenge.”

  “No.”

  “Come on, Aidan.”

  “I don’t pose for pics,” Aidan said with a huff.

  Jesse snapped a picture of his pouting, which made Aidan protest loudly, and then in the pursuit of a smile, he lowered the hand wrapped around Aidan to poke him under the arm. Aidan yelled in surprise, his mouth going wide in a laugh, and Jesse just managed to snap the photo before Aidan retaliated.

  Then he ran like hell for the gravel trail leading back to the car.

  Aidan followed, grumbling the whole way. “Not cool, Jesse. I don’t do tickles.”

  “Next time, smile for the picture.”

  “Next time? I don’t think so.”

  Jesse made claws of his fingers and gestured wildly at Aidan in a tickle threat. It backfired as Aidan grabbed his waist and slung him over a shoulder in a firefighter carry.

  “What the fuck?” he gasped, surprised at how easily Aidan lifted him. He was stronger than he looked. “Put me down.”

  “Nope. You can’t be trusted.”

  Jesse laughed, but the blood was rushing to his head. “Seriously, Aidan. Put me down.”

  “Promise no more pictures and no more tickles.”

  “No—”

  Aidan’s foot hit a fallen tree branch and he tripped. They both shouted as he tilted forward. With the forward motion, Jesse slid down Aidan’s front to his feet, feeling firsthand how firm Aidan’s body happened to be. Then Aidan’s full weight crashed into him and they both went down in a tangle of limbs. Gravel skittered under them, digging into exposed skin.

  “Ow.”

  Jesse lay there, with Aidan draped over him like a hot and sweaty blanket. Every time they tried to move they jabbed each other with elbows or knees, and a chorus of “ow,” “ouch!” and “watch it!” rang out.

  Jesse started laughing. Aidan lifted his head enough to look down at Jesse. His expression was so startled, Jesse only laughed harder.

  “Oh shit, I can’t believe you just dropped me.”

  “You landed on your feet.”

  “Until you landed on me,” Jesse pointed out.

  “Oops.” Aidan sounded sheepish, blushing as he spoke. Jesus, this guy was cute as pie.

  Jesse’s humor gave way to something else as he looked up into Aidan’s concerned face. He was cute, with floppy hair and glasses, but he was also handsome as hell with a strong jaw that wasn’t hidden even by facial hair.

  Jesse’s breath caught. Shit, don’t pop a boner, dude.

  “Uh, heavy. Can you shift, and yeah,” he mumbled as Aidan lifted his weight from Jesse’s body and pushed himself to his feet. He grasped Jesse’s hand and tugged him up.

  “Are you okay?” Aidan asked as he picked a twig from Jesse’s hair.

  “Yeah, good,” he said gruffly. “Just … we’re running late.”

  Aidan straightened, gazing down the path to the car. Jesse knew calling on Aidan’s anxiety about arriving in plenty of time wasn’t cool, but he needed to put a little space between them. He hadn’t realized how attractive he’d find Aidan when he agreed to this trip. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t be opposed to a little road-trip fun, but he hadn’t gotten a read on Aidan’s sexuality. Even if Aidan was gay or bi, he might not be interested in someone he just met. He was far from impulsive from what Jesse had seen.

  “Guess we better hurry. Sorry,” Aidan said.

  Jesse brushed bits of gravel and leaves from his clothes, and headed down the trail. Without looking Aidan in the face, he called up a friendly tone. “It’s all good. Just a little roughhousing in the woods. It’s good for the soul, right?”

  “If you say so.”

  ***

  Aidan spent the remainder of the trip to St. Louis in a state of mild anxiety. It wasn’t just that they were cutting it closer than he liked to check in at the hotel and head over to the game. Jesse’s demeanor had changed and Aidan was sure he’d done something to cause it. He was no stranger to upsetting people, but usually it was because he was rude. He didn’t think he’d been rude.

  But maybe dropping a guy, falling all over him and then gazing into his eyes like a creeper was rude. Especially if the guy isn’t into other guys. Maybe Aidan had freaked him out by taking too long to move off his body. Maybe Jesse was mad about all of it.

  But he’d laughed.

  Aidan didn’t understand people. At all.

  “So, we’ll go straight to the game from the hotel, right?” he asked. “You’re going to drive us? What if there’s no parking by the time we get there?”

  “I’m not driving.”

  Aidan’s heart lurched. “What? But how will … I don’t have a car!”

  Jesse gripped his knee and shook it. “Whoa, relax, dude. I meant we’ll catch an Uber. If I’m going to the game, I want to relax and drink a few beers, you know?”

  “Oh. So, how do we get an Uber? That’s like a taxi, right?”

  Jesse smiled at him. “You’re like a babe in the woods, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know how to respond to that. I feel like maybe it’s an insult.”

  “Nah,” Jesse said, his hand still a warm weight on Aidan’s knee. It was almost enough to make up for calling Aidan dude. “I just mean you’re kind of sheltered. But yeah, an Uber is like a taxi ride that you order with an app. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, and we’ll have plenty of time to get to the game.”

  “Okay, good. I can’t miss a single play.”

  “I know, man. I’ve got you covered, even if I don’t understand your math thing.”

  “Well, you’ve painted by number, right?”

  “You mean like those store kits where all threes are blue? I don’t do that.”

  “But you know the concept,” Aidan persisted. “Maybe you did it as a kid? I think they made us color a few pictures that way in grade school. Art wasn’t my forte.”

  Jesse nodded. “Sure.”

  “Well, the math I do with baseball is like that. When you paint by number, you know how the picture will turn out. It will always be a unicorn if that’s the design. This is the same. The numbers let me paint a picture of how certain plays will turn out. Only difference is it’s a bit less certain than paint by number. You’ll always end up with a unicorn if you follow the numbers; but there’s enough variables in baseball that the results can still surprise me.”

  “You like the surprise?”


  Aidan wrinkled his nose. “No. That’s why I do the math, in the hopes I can predict the way a player will perform. That way there are fewer surprises. I like knowing what to expect.”

  “Huh. Interesting,” Jesse said. “But just so you know, I know what to expect when I paint. It’s not like I go to paint a face and it turns into a tree.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re an artist and I’m a mathematician. There’s good reason for that.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Guess you have a point. If I tried to solve a complicated equation, or hell, even a simple one, the answer would surprise the shit out of everyone.”

  Chapter Five

  Busch Stadium was entirely different from Kauffman in Kansas City. For one thing, it was situated in downtown St. Louis without the huge parking lots adjacent to the Royals’ venue. In KC, The K — as it was often called — was right next to the Chiefs’ football stadium, so it was more separated from the city. Here, the Cardinals’ stadium was right smack in the middle of a business district.

  It turned out to be a good thing they’d chosen to grab an Uber because they could get out right in front of the stadium.

  Even without the parking worry, Aidan thrummed with a sort of uptight energy as they made their way into the stadium. They weren’t late. But try telling that to the anal-retentive guy grumbling under his breath. Did he honestly find Aidan attractive? It must have been all that hearty air in the woods around Boathenge. Aidan was driving him up the wall just now.

  “That kid just cut the line!” he exclaimed. “Can we cut the line? God, I hate lines. Survival of the fittest is a thing for a reason, you know. We could totally take half these people.”

  Jesse bit down on a laugh. He didn’t want to encourage Aidan’s bitching, even if it was funny as hell. Leaning forward, he spoke into Aidan’s ear.

  “If you don’t want tickles, you need to cheer the fuck up. I won’t be held accountable for my actions if you keep acting pissy.”

  Aidan whipped his head around to stare at him. Instead of a sarcastic comeback, his lips pouted. “Sorry.”

  Damn, those lips. All that attraction came racing back to the surface.

  “We’re here to have fun, right?”

  Aidan didn’t look convinced, but he nodded. “Fun,” he echoed. “Right.”

  Jesse set out to prove to Aidan that fun could be had beyond recording baseball stats. He people-watched, waiting for the best examples to point out. The shirtless guy with full sleeve tattoos and a humongous skull back piece. The pierced goth girl who looked totally out of place in all black, but somehow still worked her team spirit with ruby red lipstick and Cardinals hair ties. The baby boy who wore a Royals jersey, and his tired but excited parents who’d driven the family up from KC, much like they’d done. With the World Series so close to home, the crowd was almost evenly split between Cardinals and Royals fans. A sea of red, blue and white, the crowd looked patriotic.

  Jesse’s fingers itched to paint it, to capture the symbolism of it all: baseball, the American pastime, and all those patriotic colors celebrating it. It wouldn’t be his usual subject matter, but he could see the simple domestic beauty in it.

  There were plenty of friendly faces and good-natured ribbing going on between the rivaling fans. Jesse made small talk with a few. The Royals fans tended to cluster together. Safety in numbers, he supposed. There was a concept Aidan would most likely understand.

  “You try it,” he urged Aidan after he’d pointed out a few interesting characters. “Show me something interesting.”

  Aidan scanned the area before nodding to a little boy who looked to be about seven who was with his dad. The father was explaining the rules about sliding into base, and the kid was listening avidly.

  “Father and son bonding, huh? I can dig it.”

  “My father brought me to every home game until he died. He’s the reason I started loving baseball.”

  “Oh, man. I didn’t know.”

  “He’s even the reason I started recording the stats. He did it for fun, or maybe as a way for us to connect. He knew how much I liked math.”

  “That’s pretty awesome of him. You got a good one.”

  “A good what?”

  “A good father,” Jesse said, trying not to let bitterness tinge his words. “We don’t all grow up with that.”

  Aidan nodded, his eyes on the father and son as they laughed together. “Yeah, we were never like them, though,” Aidan said. “We didn’t really understand each other. Weren’t on the same brain wave, I guess you’d say. But I’m not really on anyone’s brain wave.”

  “I don’t know about that. We all have our unique brain waves, man. We’re all different.”

  Aidan smiled at him, but it had the air of patronizing him. Not condescending exactly, but in a way that said Jesse didn’t understand. “Well, anyway, my mother always knew how to talk to me best. Even if we’re not the same either.”

  “She seemed cool.”

  Jesse steered the conversation back to baseball since that’s where Aidan seemed happiest focusing. Soon enough, they’d entered the stadium and were free to seek out their seats. The view was gorgeous, and the weather was cooperating with a bright sun lighting up a dazzling view of the St. Louis skyline, complete with its claim to fame, the Arch. In KC, Jesse’s eyes were usually drawn to the massive jumbo screen, but this was a nice change.

  Even Aidan appreciated the view. His spirits lifted once he realized there was no danger of missing the game start. He settled in with his notebooks, eyes laser focused on the field below. Jesse got the feeling he wasn’t going to be the most talkative companion, so he headed off to go buy some much needed refreshments.

  He still remembered that first time he’d tried to speak to Aidan while he was watching a Royals game and was largely ignored. He realized later that Aidan had been more distracted than rude, but now that he knew what to expect, Jesse would have to make friends with a few other fans nearby, concentrate on the game plays so he could give Gramps some good highlights, and enjoy his hotdog and beer.

  He didn’t need Aidan to entertain him. There were worse ways to spend an evening.

  ***

  The game was beautiful, start to end. The Cardinals led for the first seven innings, but Aidan wasn’t worried. The Royals were known for performing well in the clutch. They’d racked up as many as 10 runs in one or two innings several times that season already. They played a different ball game than a lot of teams. They weren’t power hitters for the most part; they got on base and they played aggressively to put pressure on defense. It was a throwback style of baseball, and in Aidan’s opinion, a more fun one.

  Not that he was there for fun.

  Marcus Polanowski was next in the lineup. Aidan had run simulations at home, thousands of them. Some pitted the teams against each other, while some focused specifically on Polanowski facing Cards pitcher Dirk Redding. With Polanowski’s on-base percentage and performance in high-stakes games pitted against Redding’s arsenal of devastating off-speed breaking pitches and tendency to be a bit wild, Aidan trusted the odds.

  He leaned over to Jesse. “Watch this. Redding’s going to throw him a breaking ball, but he’ll pull the ball to left field.”

  Jesse raised his eyebrows at Aidan. “No kidding?”

  Aidan pointed toward the mound. “Just watch.”

  Sure enough, Polanowski missed the first offering, a strike right on the edge of the plate. The second and third pitches missed outside. Down in the count with two balls and one strike, the pitcher went to his best pitch, the breaking ball. Polanowski swung and connected, sending the ball to left field. A switch hitter, he could bat from either side of the batting box, which made him more of a challenge to nail down for pitchers.

  “Yes!” Jesse shouted, punching a hand in the air. The Royals’ fans broke out into cheers and clapping while the larger Cards section tried to drown them out with boos. Jesse turned to Aidan with a grin. “That was amazing. You can predict all the plays that wel
l?”

  Aidan shrugged, feeling a burst of pride inside. No one had taken his passion for baseball stats this seriously. “Not all of them. Certain players are more consistent than others, and there are a lot of variables. Marcus Polanowski is one of the best players in the clutch, though. He’s more predictable than some.”

  Jesse’s gaze returned to the game, but after that he asked Aidan for his commentary. Aidan made a few more predictions based on the mathematical odds — some on the money and some not — but Jesse’s enthusiasm brought a new level of enjoyment to the game. And mostly, his statistical-based predictions held up.

  The Royals began to close the gap in the scoring. Relief pitchers were brought out. The Royals’ bullpen was strong, and they shut the Cards down, while the offense steadily built from 4 to 5 to 6.

  Then Brandon Hamm stepped up to the plate. He was usually too eager to swing, and his stats supported that he went after the ball whether it hit the zone or not. Sure enough, Redding got him to chase a couple of balls and he was down 0-2 in the count.

  “What’s going to happen now?” Jesse asked.

  “He’ll either strike out, or he’ll hit a grand slam,” Aidan said. “He’s a go big or go home type of player.”

  Crack!

  Hamm caught the ball with the end of the bat and it shot down the first baseline. It soared high into the air and seemed destined to be a foul, but then began a slow hook into fair territory, passing just inside the foul pole and bouncing around in the hands of eager fans.

  The spectators jumped to their feet, cheering.

  It was out of there. A home run, and with the bases loaded, he got the grand slam Aidan predicted.

  For once, Aidan jumped to his feet with everyone else. Jesse threw up his hands for a double high-five, and Aidan slapped his palms, grinning. When Jesse pulled him into a hug, he didn’t resist.