Sammy's POV:

The rest of the game passed uneventfully. The Giants won, 5-2, as expected. Pablo Sandoval hit a three-run homer to put them back ahead in the 4th, and also allowing Timmy to come back to the mound to pitch the next inning. If they hadn't reclaimed the lead, I suspect Bochy would've put in a reliever for Lincecum, even though it was only the fourth.

Cody Ross then splashed a two-run homer over left field. The big screen showed the people in canoes and kayaks, running each other over in an attempt to get the ball from Cody's splash hit.

I was one of the few Giants fans who stayed the whole game. I leaned on the wall, watching from across the dugout as my secret crush packed up his things, oblivious of my stare. Until, that is, he turned, and spotting me still sitting there, broke into a grin, and walked over.

"By the way, I don't think I ever asked your name.. " Simply the sound of his voice made me smile.

"Sammy. Sammy Luvas." He grinned.

"I'd tell you mine in response, but I'm pretty sure you know mine."

"Of course, Mr. Lincecum." How had I not noticed before? His eyes glittered like diamonds when those adorable dimples of his came out.

"Call me Timmy."

"Sure thing... Timmy," I breathed. I blushed, as I realized how pathetic I was to have been dreaming of this moment since I first saw him on TV. He smiled up at me, looking thoughtful. Then, he did a thing that took my breath away. He reached up, gently brushing down my flaming cheek with the back of his hand. His left hand, I noticed. Seemed as though instinct had him never using his right hand.

"I love your blush," he murmured, eyes unreadable, before turning away to move back to his corner of the dugout. I exhaled, shakily, and grabbed my bag. Tucking my hat into it, I walked out of the stadium.

Buster Posey's POV:

I sighed, rolling my eyes as Timmy spoke again.

"Seriously, did you see her? Her eyes, that rich brown..."

"Timmy, seriously. You forgot to even ask her name, you were lucky that she stayed behind after most fans left. Otherwise, you wouldn't even know the name of this mystery girl. And honestly, dude, don't let it affect your pitching. You're probably never even gonna see her again, man." Timmy shook his head stubbornly. At least, I thought it was out of stubbornness, until he spoke his next words:

"She asked me to sign her cap. And I added my phone number onto it." I dropped my batting helmet in shock, spinning around from my locker.

"Wait, you what?"

"You heard me."

"But.. what if she's just some gorgeous reporter? What if she posts it on her blog? What if you've just given your privacy straight to the public?"

"She's not that type." His mouth was set, the same way it was when he set a goal for himself. And he never missed his personal goals. Ever.

"But you only talked to her for, what... thirty seconds?"

He shook his head, his black hair flying everywhere with the motion. It was getting quite long, honestly... probably time for a trim.

"She's not that type. Trust me. I could tell." I shrugged, turning back to my locker, trying to fit my catcher's gear in it. If he was too stubborn to admit his mistake, so be it...

Sammy's POV:

I gasped, looking at the silver writing on the black background in disbelief. I reread it once, twice, three times...

No. It couldn't be.

Tim Lincecum, two-time Cy Young award winner, 5'11 pitcher, nicknamed "The Freak" and the face of the Giants franchise, would NOT write his number on my cap.

I must be imagining something.

I closed my eyes, counted to five, then opened them and looked at it again. Nope, the nine-digit number was still there. I exhaled. Maybe it wasn't even his number. Hell, I could call it right now, and he wouldn't pick up. Trust me.

I whirled, walking quickly to the nearest phone in my small apartment. Picking up the receiver, I dialed the barely legible numbers. Damn famous people. You could never read their handwriting...

"Hello?" The smooth voice made me gasp, and I dropped the receiver in shock. Fumbling, I hurriedly picked up back up.

"Ti-Timmy?"

"Sammy?" I took a deep breath, trying to recover my senses.

"That is my name, last time I checked." I joked, trying to cover up my shock.

"You called! You actually called!" I could hear his grin through his words.

"Well, y'see, you gave me your number... Generally, if people give you their number, you want them to call you. Besides, you know I'm a fan of yours. Why wouldn't I call?"

"Well... Buster sorta.. "

"Wait, you're talking about Buster Posey, right?"

"Yeah. What other Buster were you thinking about?" I laughed to myself. Here he was, socializing casually with people I'd only dreamed about.

"Never mind. Carry on."

"Buster.. he sorta convinced me that you we're going to call ... " Wait a sec. Back up here.

"You guys were talking about me? Whatever for? I'm just a fan, fan of yours, fan of the Giants, fan of the game." He laughed on the other end of the line.

"I'll tell you... if you agree to go out with me, tomorrow night."

"The game tomorrow's at 1:05, right? I'll be there, in my normal spot. Can't you tell me then? It's Cain's start, isn't it?"

He laughed. "Yes, 1:05, no, I'll tell you tomorrow night, yes, it's Matt's start, and honestly, I'm so glad you'll be there." I could hear his sincerity, and it charmed me through and through.

"Alright, fine. Tomorrow night."