Exactly like you.
Except the lightning engulfs my entire body, and that everlasting sting will linger everywhere.
I chuckle, shaking my head. She has no idea.
The irony is not lost on me. Not only does she have all the side effects of my favorite ridiculously powerful gum, but she has the same commanding red hair,andher name is Ember.
Give me the sting and light me on fire, little red.
Plus, she is stunning, and the conversation has come so easily. We haven’t talked about anything too personal, but everything we have talked about is organic and natural. It’s been one topic to another, flowing between the two of us like we’ve known each other our whole lives.
I’ve avoided the topic of what I do for a living, thankfully. I dislike the judgment that comes with telling people I’m a minor league baseball player. What my oldest brother, Henry, refers to as the ‘MLB for the inept’. I’m lying to myself when I use the word judgment. It’s embarrassment. I was destined for a long career in the MLB until one injury took my whole career away. I’ve been working my way back there ever since.
I found out she loves action movies and hates rom-coms. She graduated from the University of Missouri - Kansas City, with a double major in business and marketing.
I was instantly impressed when she told me she offered free marketing services to small local businesses in her town instead of doing fake mockups for her college projects. Thinking like a true entrepreneur and business professional.
Like me, she is on her way to Las Vegas as part of a wedding party. She left from Seattle for what she air-quoted as a ‘work thing’. She still lives in Missouri, a small annoying hiccup. When I asked if she travels to Seattle often, she said she hopes it becomes a more regular thing.
She seems anxious to get out of the small town she lives in, or maybe that’s just me projecting.
The last ten minutes were spent using the inside of my Big Red gum pack to play Tic Tac Toe. Apparently, she claims that Tic Tac Toe is strategic, and she is proving it by kicking my ass in every single game we have played, no matter what box I started my “X” in.
She circles one of the boxes and beats me in the final game. Again.
“See.” She kicks her chin up to me with a smug smile. “Strategy.”
“Fine, you’ve proven your point, but in case you don’t realize, my ego is never going to recover. I hope you know this is a core memory, and I’ll never get over this emotional destruction.”
She throws her head back and laughs. And Jesus, I could listen to that laugh forever.
“Here you go.” She tucks the top of the gum pack into the bottom and hands it to me.
“Oh, hell no.” I push it back toward her. “Why would I want that now? So I can kill my ego every time I want a piece of gum? No thanks. Consider that your winnings.”
She rewards me with another one of those gorgeous smiles before tucking the pack of gum into her purse.
She peeks over at the seat back pocket in front of my seat, and tilts her head to read the sideways lettering, then flicks the corner of the ticket. “So, you got kicked out of first class and have to rough it back here with us in coach today, huh?”
I angle my view to look at the tickets, a first-class ticket with a slash through it and the reprinted coach ticket unevenly peeking out from behind it. I quickly send a silent little thank you to Ruth for this jackpot of a seat. I can’t help but smile when I reply. “Yeah, apparently they overbooked the first-class seats, so they offered me this one. But,” I lean in close to her ear, “this is hardly roughing it, little red.”
I didn’t mean for it to come out as sexual as it sounded, but when her cheeks flush with pink, I have no regrets.
“But I am encroaching on your seat here,” I touch my shoulders to indicate my size, “which is why I typically always fly first or business class. I try to respect my fellow seatmates.”
“Well, thank goodness for your selfless act.” Her sarcastic smirk is on full display as she shifts in her seat to face me. “What’s the width measurement here, anyway? I’m surprised you made it through the cabin doors.” She places her palm over my shoulder and arm, then trails it along the front of my collarbone, using her hand as a ridiculous tool for measurement.
She’s hyper focused on her palm, trailing along my chest, as she attempts to take an actual measurement with her hand, her tongue is sticking out between her teeth with how deep she is concentrating, and with every touch, she sends bolts of electricity all the way to my toes.
She’s like a little red Magneto.
“You’ve got to be at least twenty-two inches.” She’s looking down at her palm, still using her thumb and pointer finger to remeasure her palm as a scale in inches.
When she lifts her gaze to look at mine, my eyebrows are lifted and I’m pressing my lips in a hard line as an attempt to keep my mouth shut while I wait for her to realize what she said.
Her smile fades with a look of pure shock on her face. “No… no, I meant—” Her palms cover her face, interrupting herself.
“Oh no, you can stop and leave it there. I’m fine with this completely distorted measurement.” I laugh, pulling her hands down from covering her beautiful, embarrassed face.
