I level him with a hard stare. “That’s enough out of you.”
To Paisley, I explain, “You were late, so I worried. That’s what I do.”
She nods in understanding, but her eyes soften at the corners, and if I had to guess I’d say she likes the idea of being worried over.
“Paisley, are you joining us?” Jeremiah asks. “We usually go for a beer after a match.”
Paisley looks at me hesitatingly.
“No,” I answer. “Paisley and I have other plans.”
“Cool.” Jeremiah backs off. “Enjoy your night. Paisley, it was nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she says politely.
I retrieve my water bottle, keys, phone, and wallet from where they lie in the grass, and walk with Paisley to the parking lot.
She nudges me with her shoulder. “I really am sorry I missed your game. I wanted to watch you. Especially after Oliver talked you up.”
“Maybe I should be glad you missed it. He probably oversold me.”
Paisley looks up at me with that blue-green stare. “Probably not.”
A car approaches as we walk through the parking lot. It slows to allow us to walk across, but Paisley hustles and waves apologetically at the driver of the vehicle.
“Uh, Paisley,” I say when I catch up with her. The car passes behind me. “Are there ants in your pants?”
“No.”
“Why did you hurry for that car?”
“To be polite.”
“And the apologetic wave?”
“An apology.”
“For what?”
“Walking in front of them.”
“But you didn’t do anything you needed to apologize for.”
“Klein,” Paisley says my name with exasperation. “I am a courteous pedestrian. I need that stranger to see me and be like,that courteous pedestrian is a ten out of ten.”
I shrug. “It’s a little much, but ok.”
We reach my car first. “I need to go home and shower. Do you want to follow me home? We can decide where we want to go from there once I’m no longer sweaty.”
“You’re not going to turn into a psychopath as soon as your front door is closed, are you? Lock me up and throw away the key?”
“I was planning to, but now that you’re on to me, I’ll save my villainous plans for another unsuspecting victim.”
She runs the back of her palm across her forehead and pretends to flick away sweat. “Dodged that bullet.”
We climb into our respective vehicles, and as I’m pulling out onto the neighborhood street that will lead to the bigger road to my place, I try not to think too hard about the bloom of happiness in my chest.
Yes, this is Paisley Royce in the car behind me following me to my apartment.
