Page 13 of Wyndi Outside
I nodded in agreement. “This is exactly like that.”
She moved around the table toward me. When she was close enough, she wrapped her arms around my waist with her head landing just in my chest. I brought my arms around her and hugged her back. She felt . . . right in my arms. Good in my arms. “Thank you for this.”
“You thanked me already,” I reminded her.
“I know. When I set out this summer to have fun with . . . to have fun.” She corrected herself, and I was glad. I didn’t want to hear nothing she had to say about her time with Wilcox. “When I set out to have fun, I imagined having fun. I didn’t have a lot of fun. This is fun. I’m having a good time. I can’t wait for the parade tomorrow.” She looked up at me, from where she was still pressed up against me. “I get to ride on the float with you, right?”
Clearly, I had been choosing the wrong women since I’d been in the league. It seemed like the women before Wyndi would never have wanted to ride on a float at my college’s homecoming. That would’ve been beneath them. The women I dated before liked high-end shopping, fine dining, luxurious photo ops. They didn’t like mixing and mingling with regular people. My status was supposed to upgrade them, not give them more in-depth access to things they could experience without me. Homecomings weren’t a flex. MET galas, the ESPYs, the Oscars . . . now those were flexes. Then there was Wyndi, smiling up at me with stars in her eyes over having the opportunity to ride on a homecoming float with me. If I wasn’t careful, this woman was gonna catch me slipping and end up owning me.
“Yeah, you get to ride on the float with me.”
“Cool, because I’ve been practicing my Miss America wave.” She gave me a quick demonstration of the wave, and I barked out a laugh.
Yeah, I would fuck around and buy this woman a ring before the weekend was over if I wasn’t careful.
