“You should be headed to your car,” I say to Duncan as he falls into step with me. I’m soaked. He’s soaked. We need to get inside.
“I parked by your building.”
“Is everything from sign-ups picked up?”
“Staff is cleared out completely. They’re fast.”
“Good. You should’ve parked closer to the courts.”
We reach the street at a crosswalk. Duncan hits the button on a street post to flash the drivers an alert that pedestrians are crossing, and when we’ve made sure the traffic is slowing, we dash across, then three more buildings down, utilizing the overhangs to get out of the rain.
My shirt is clinging to me.
So are my pants.
I don’t want to look at Duncan and see what his clothes are doing to his body.
“Where’s your car?” I ask Duncan.
He jerks a thumb behind us. “About six blocks that way.”
“That is notcloseto my building.” I stop under my own overhang and finally fully look at him.
His curly hair is plastered to his head. Water drips down his strong nose and over his cheeks and into the scruff on his jaw. His Thrusters polo clings to his broad shoulders and the hard planes of his chest and his thick, corded arms as he wipes water droplets off his forehead. The wind blows rain into the sheltered area next to the door, and he visibly shivers.
“Good to see you today,” he says. “Thanks for letting me walk you home. Still on for Thursday after next?”
Is he serious? “I don’t need you to?—”
“I know,” he says quickly. “That’s why I said thank you for letting me do it.”
“You should’ve taken a ride with one of the staff.” I shouldn’t be cranky.
But I know why I am.
I’m mad at myself for telling him about my mom. When you know what’s wrong with someone, you can give it lip service to try to make it go away.
I don’t want Duncan giving me lip service.
I want him to mean it. I want him to prove it. I want to believe in him and not have him let me down.
Wanting him scares me.
He’s watching me as cars drive past, splashing water over the curb but not close enough to get us.
We shouldn’t be out here where we’re visible to anyone.
“I have to get to the ballpark,” I say.
“Yeah, game day.”
“The storm will pass. We’ll play tonight.”
“Definitely.”
“If you want to wait at my place until the storm blows over, that’s fine.”
He eyes me cautiously. “Addie, I’m not angling for an invitation in. I just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”
