“It’s actually pretty good,” Sabrina admitted, taking another sip. “I’ve never had a drink like this.”
“But you do like it, right?” Marco asked. “I can order something else that’s not fruit-flavored if you'd prefer.”
“Oh, no. I like it a lot,” Sabrina said. She took an even bigger sip this time.
“Good.” Marco grinned, pleased with himself.
Sabrina watched him. She liked the way his lips curved as he smiled. Everything he did was elegantly refined and graceful in its own way, as if he were a painting constantly reworking itself.
There was a sudden roar in from the stands below, and Sabrina turned toward the field. She was no analyst but even she could tell the makings of a good play. She quickly spotted the ball rolling in the outfield. By the time an outfielder scooped the ball and rocketed it back, the runner was already rounding third base. Even if she couldn't have seen his uniform, it was obviously a Yankees' player given the howl of celebration coming from the crowd.
Sabrina looked over to see Marco straining his neck to watch the play unfolding in front of them. He watched it with rapt interest, his dark eyes taking in every motion on the field.
Suddenly, the roar of the fans reached its loudest decibel yet, and Sabrina looked away from Marco to see the runner touching home base. She felt a flurry of energy around her as people in the suite stood and cheered. Marco stood too, feeding off the energy.
He reached down and offered his hand. Sabrina humored his request and stood beside him.
“I think we just scored a goal,” Marco said and Sabrina couldn’t help but notice how he’d chosen to say ‘we.’
“He hit a home run,” Sabrina corrected gently. She shook her head in amazement. “An inside-the-park home run.”
Marco turned to her wearing a look that said he was confused, but enjoying himself all the same.
“He hit the ball in the outfield and they couldn’t throw it back in time, so he ran all the way home and scored,” she explained. “It's pretty hard to do.”
When they finally sat back down, Sabrina reached for her drink in the cup holder and realized it was less than half full. She’d drunk the thing like it was juice. Marco reached for his drink and she was relieved to see that his was also less than full, though not quite as empty as hers.
It wasn't more than a few minutes, though, before Marco ordered another two drinks from the attendant working the suite. They finished their first drinks right as the fresh ones were delivered.
Already Sabrina could feel the alcohol setting in. It’d been awhile since she’d drank, but still the buzz felt different than she was used to. Instead of the lift she felt from a few beers, her body was warm and heavy. It sank into her chair while the outside breeze was fuzzy on her face and fingers.
The next drink went quickly also. Too quickly.
Before she knew it, the attendant was circling back with yet another full Malibu Dreamsicle that he placed on the thin table in front of them. Sabrina’s eyes moved slowly as she focused on the third drink, her vision cushioned by a frame that shrank the size of the room around her. Her sips had turned into gulps and she took another drink before looking up at Marco.
Sabrina wanted to laugh, not at something but out of pure joy. She wanted to throw an arm around Marco and pull him close to her, but resisted the urge. Even though the alcohol was blurring the lines of her judgment, she felt like she shouldn't do that just yet.
“Enjoying yourself?” Marco asked, noticing her gaze fixed on him.
“I’m having a great time,” Sabrina said, her words lazy but still full of delight.
“Glad to hear it.” Marco beamed at her and she smiled back. It felt like the short distance between them was filled with a blissful connection that only alcohol could elicit, the sort of thing that felt tangible and fervently comforting.
The game itself had faded into Sabrina’s secondary focus. In the foreground was Marco, his firm stature and glowing skin, and the fuzzy sensation that had become as much a part of the setting as the stadium in front of them.
By the time the seventh inning stretch came along, Sabrina was feeling amazing. The alcohol had seeped into her veins and slapped a big goofy smile on her face. The best part, though, was that Marco was enjoying himself just as thoroughly. Almost too thoroughly. When the attendant came back with another round of drinks, Marco stopped him and forced him to sing along with him to “Take Me Out To The Ballgame.”
This is more entertaining than the actual game, she thought, as she watched Marco wrap his arm over the attendant's shoulder, forcing him to sway to the music.
The young attendant played along, though, and sang the lyrics at full volume. Sabrina decided to join in as well. She started singing quietly at first, but within a few verses, she was shouting the lyrics louder than anyone else in the suite.
This is so fun, she thought while trying to curb her giggles.
Sabrina reached for another sip from her drink. She couldn’t remember how many s
he'd had at this point. All she knew was that she was on cloud nine. Or cloud ten.
Is there a cloud eleven? she thought, as a small wave of dizziness swept through her.