Thankfuck.
I know that piggy snort.
She’s laughing. And it’s a real laugh, or she wouldn’t have let the piggy snort out.
“Stairs,” she says in a strangled voice.
“I like stairs,” I agree.
“You need an escort?” one of the firefighters asks.
She peels herself off of me, and just when I think she won’t make eye contact, she hits me with a shy smile.
Addie.
Shy.
My heart flops over and offers itself to her.
But then she’s all motion.
“Gentlemen,” she says to the firefighters, “thank you for your assistance. And your discretion. Am I clear?”
All six of them straighten as if she’s said more than a dozen words on the matter and they know they’re never setting foot inside of Duggan Field to watch another Fireballs game in their lives if they breathe a word of this to anyone.
“We would never, ma’am,” one says.
“Not with your names attached,” another adds. “Or identifying occupations.”
“I’ll never forget the way you dead-eye stared at Brooks Elliott when he walked onto that practice field wearing a thong and a cape,” a third says reverently. “That’s serious facial muscle control.”
A fourth pulls his cap off and watches her with wary eyes. “You’re scary. In the good way.”
The fifth and sixth guys don’t add anything, but they stare at me with significantly more respect as I pull my soaked shirt back on and follow Addie off the elevator.
“Thank you again,” she says to all six of them, as dead-ass serious as she’s known to be on the baseball field.
I trail her to the stairwell.
The firefighters don’t follow.
She’s silent for two flights.
And then she stops on a landing, looks back at me, and doubles over laughing.
Fuck, yes.
ThisAddie.
I like this Addie. The one she hides from the world. TherealAddie under all of the layers of expectations that she thinks she has to live up to.
And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I get to keep seeing her.
16
Addie
It’s been almosta week since the elevator incident, and I can’t decide if Duncan texting me GIFs every other day or so is a good thing or a bad thing.
