Loveseat Nights

6

saturday, feb 6

Incredible. Incredifreakingble.

“Rose!” I yell, waving my arms around to attract her attention. Who is this chick? And why do I keep running into her?

She must not be as excited to see me as I am about her, because the minute she recognizes my face Rose starts scrambling away from the soccer field.

“Uh, I have to go,” she calls back. “Nice seeing you!”

“No, wait, Rose! Why are you avoiding me?” Or rather, why am I an avoidable person? Am I looking particularly atrocious these days? Does my breath stink? Oh God, I shouldn’t have eaten those onion fries last week, everyone knows the stench lasts for months.

I manage to jog up without her shrieking her head off. That ought to be a good sign.

“Why are you avoiding me?” I repeat.

She stops, sighing, and leans against the tire swing. “I’ve heard that you’re trouble.”

“Me? Trouble?” I puff out my lips and make a pffft sound. “I’m the kindest kid you’ll meet.”

“Very self-flattering, I see.”

“No, no, I’m kidding.” Not really. I’m nicer than most seniors, at least. “But continue about the hearsay of my troublemaking skills.”

“I’ve heard your name around,” she continues, “and when you said you were Adrien, I knew that you were... Well, That Adrien.”

“What if I was some other kind, gentlemanly soul with the same name?”

“Nah. You’ve got that look.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That look? What look? Is it sexy?”

Rose chuckles and looks down at the ground. Her choppy bangs shade her eyes, but when she looks back up at me I realize how brown they are. My kind of brown.

Hmmmmm.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask, walking towards her and jumping onto the tire swing.

Rose moves her back away from the tire and turns around so that her hands are resting on the area circling the right side of my torso.

“Here? In a park? Why, I don’t know, playing poker.” Smart-ass.

“No, I mean here at the soccer field.” I glance at her sporty outfit, very contrasting to the floral shirt and skirt ensemble that I first met her in. “With a soccer ball.”

“Like I said. Playing poker.” Rose gives the tire a little push. I swing back and forth, drawing out a french fry.

“Wait a second... Do you play soccer? Honest-to-goodness soccer and not the wimpy girl version?”

She narrows her eyes while yanking on the tire swing so that I stop completely. Leaning in, Rose gives me such a glare that I feel smaller than her. If that’s possible.

“What the hell do you mean by ‘wimpy girl version’?”

“Nothing, nothing,” I quickly reply, clearing my throat. “I meant, um, wow! You play soccer! That...” Really turns me on.

Let’s face it. Nothing is sexier than a girl who plays your sport.

“I’ve been playing here since I was a kid,” she says, gesturing around Mansfield Park. I’m not kidding, the city named one of their most popular parks after a Jane Austen novel. “It’s got such a great atmosphere, you know? All smiley and happy and stuff. Makes the workout more fun.”