“Is this a hint? Because we talked all about your little company.”
“And other things, like sports.”
“Sure. Whatever.” Then I see U.S. Bank Field in the distance becoming larger by the second. “Are we going to the Vikes game?” I squint at him.
“Nope. Twins.”
“Sure, sure. Like they made the postseason. Good one.”
“Maybe Mall of America. Do some shopping. Ride the roller coaster.”
“Yeah, that sounds like something you’d do on your day off.”
“You don’t know me.” He says it in this mock-sarcastic voice.
It’s actually kind of funny, but I’m not laughing at him. No, no more jokes of his are funny. He’s not cute and endearing.
Campbell would kill me just for being here with him, but he kind of made me. He said I’d get written up, right?
Yeah, keep justifying this, Hazel. Keep doing what you’re doing. Nothing can go wrong.
I haven’t been to a Vikes game in a few years, but I’m pretty sure he doesn’t pull into the general parking area.
He follows signs leading to some section up close to the stadium. I can’t bring myself to guess at what’s coming next, so Ikeep my mouth shut and settle for wishing I was dressed a little nicer.
At least I’m getting paid for this.
And at least he smells heavenly too.
Stop! Stop sniffing!
He parks the car, walks around, and opens the door. “Come on.” He takes my hand in his.
God, why does it feel so good? I remember the first time I got out all on my own. I didn’t need his damn hand to help me out.
This time, I just wanted to see what it feels like. To have my hand in his. Just once. There’s no harm in that, right?
It feels good, to be fair. Man, his hands are so soft, but you can feel the power in them. They’re gigantic. What would it feel like, to have them around my waist?
Hazel! Focus!
Him and his giant hand leads the way through a door with a sign labeledMembers’ Area. There’s an elevator inside, and a short ride takes us to an enclosed concourse completely unlike what I’m used to as a normal, regular person. No jostling fans, no chanting, no face paint. It’s like a little private business section walled off from the normal folks. Everyone I see around me is dressed well, like Paxton is. Jeans and sweaters that are Viking purple and gold, but something tells me they weren’t purchased anywhere near a Target.
It’s like he’s so oblivious. Why would he think I would enjoy this? It’s almost hilarious, watching him try to navigate this thing going on between us.
“It’s the corporate box.” Paxton stretches out his arms once we reach it and opens the door for me.
I walk through and, of course, we’re right over the fifty-yard line. “Whenever I have a chance, I try to go to home games with my dad. It’s been a few years. We’ve never had seats like this.”
I can’t believe I’m anywhere near a place like this. There’s food laid out buffet-style on tables with linens, drinks, anything we could want. We’re not crammed in with thousands of other people, there’s no chance of a drunk guy sitting behind me spilling his beer all over my head. It’s overwhelming and awesome. My dad would love it, for sure.
“This is… Insane.”
“Have a drink. Enjoy yourself.” He lifts the lid on a heated pan to reveal a tray of sausage and peppers, and another of roast beef swimming in gravy. “Anything you want, they’ll bring it up for us.”
“Do you always bring people here? Watch the games from here every week?” I can’t get over how nice it is, right down to the padded seats that I’m pretty sure are heated.
“You mean do I bring dates here?” He shakes his head. “Definitely not. More like business colleagues. Stuff like that.”