Klein
What do you think about going to Oliver’s soccer game next weekend? You could meet him and my sister.
You want me to meet more of your family? Don’t you think we’re moving too fast? We’ve only been fake dating a few weeks.
You afraid?
Nooo.
Don’t go soft on me now, Royce. This is for believability. Oliver’s an important person in my life. It’ll look weird if you’ve never met him. What do you say?
One question…should I bring my trusty foam finger??
Paisley arrivesat the game ten minutes before it begins. She wears ripped jeans, a V-neck lavender tee, and sneakers. As much as I appreciate her work attire and those heels she favors, I like the casual look on her, too. She spots me standing in the grass near my parking spot and waves.
I stride her way, and she comes mine. As she walks she reaches into her purse, producing a white baseball cap that she fits onto her head.
My stride nearly breaks. I’ve always thought baseball hats on girls are cute, but on Paisley? It’s on a whole new level, and on that elevated level the descriptor is no longercute.It’s sexy.
Sexy as hell.
Sexy as fuck.
Sexy as if she were standing in front of me in something lacy and barely there.
She stops in front of me. There’s a smile on her face, no makeup that I can tell, and two gold hoops dangling from her earlobes. The delicate purple shade of her shirt makes the green in her eyes stand out more than the blue.
Curling a finger, I tap it against the bill of her hat. “Nice hat. Wrong sport.” Maybe lighthearted teasing will keep me from telling her how attractive I find her.
“No such thing as a soccer hat,” she trills.
Is she…nervous? No way. Not Paisley.
My hand cups her elbow. Immediately I regret it, wishing I’d gone for a place less asexual. I could’ve at least touched her shoulder. Too late, but I’m mentally kicking myself anyhow. “I’m glad you made it,” I say, hoping my internal agony isn’t showing on my face.
She blinks up at me. “I told you I’d be here.”
I release her elbow and take a step back. “I know. But it’s a kids soccer game.” Now I’m the one feeling nervous. Did I really invite her to my nephew’s soccer game? What a chump. Paisley’s probably used to far better, well-planned dates. “I’m sure you have a lot of other things you could be doing with your morning.”
“I do,” she says, tilting her head. “But this is important, too. Believability, and all.”
“Right,” I nod along. “Believability.”
“Uncle Klein!”
We turn in tandem toward Oliver. Decked out in a navy blue uniform with red lining around the collar and red knee-length socks, he runs at me full speed.
I catch him easily, swinging him around. Eden’s a few steps behind.
She walks up to Paisley and extends a hand. “You must be Paisley. I’m Eden, Klein’s older sister.”
I set Oliver on his feet. Eden reaches over and musses his hair. “This wild man is my son, Oliver.”
“It’s nice to meet you both.”
Oliver unwinds a backpack from Eden’s shoulder. “Gotta go. I don’t wanna be late for warm-ups. Coach is strict. He says I’m on a club team now and I have to act like it.”
I frown. These kids are ten. What does it mean to ‘act like it’? As soon as Oliver is out of ear shot, I tell Eden, “I think I’m going to have to spend some time making that social media model less attractive in the facial area.”
