One For The Road

24: Ask

Since I pretty much lived out of a suitcase and had extremely close ties to northeast Ohio, when Josiah and Drake had to prepare for the Cleveland tournament, I had nothing to do besides checking my social media profiles.

Annie wasn't going to come with us, which was a little disappointing, but she said she had a few things to give me before we left. I was sure that one of them was the finished un-fireproof fire suit, but I had no idea what else she had in mind.

During any downtime I had while I was at the track, I liked sharing my life with people on Instagram and Twitter, which was one of the things Truscott hated most about me. How dare I connect with fans! Since I was learning the ropes of a completely new skill, I didn't have as much time, and perhaps I had lost a few followers along the way.

I opened up the Instagram app, and of course, I had about sixty million DMs and comments. I liked the attention, but there were some guys who sent pathetic dick pics. Sometimes I responded, but they never got an answer they wanted.

I pressed on the most recent message, and I barely made it through the first ten words before I figured out who it was.

Katie,

My name is Daniel Henderson, and I was the guy from Gilligan's on June 17th. We recently met, and you asked me to DM you in regard to a potential romantic encounter. Unfortunately, I am unable to follow through with such a request due to the fact that I am gay, but I do have an alternative that could possibly make up for any confusion.

With respect,

Daniel Henderson

I blinked a couple times. What the fuck did I just read? That was easily the most professional rejection I had ever experienced, even though he was definitely the one who started the potential romantic encounter.

How was I even supposed to respond to that? Sure, I'd love to be your friend, strange man. Would you be interested in exchanging friendship bracelets?

And if he was gay, he did a damn good job at convincing me otherwise.

Before I could figure out what to say, Annie came into the living room with a large cardboard box of items. On the front, she had written my name with a heart next to it, and she set it down on the ground.

"I packed you some stuff that you might need," she said.

"Annie, that's sweet, but you didn't—" I began, but she interrupted.

"Sometimes you don't take care of yourself, so let me handle this for you. Isn't that what art psychology buddies are for?" She smiled. "Anyway, I have your new special fire suit, and it'll look fantastic on you, I'm sure. Just remember that it's not really fireproof."

God, she was too good for this world.

"Thank you, Ann—"

She cut me off once again. "I also packed you a bucket for when you inevitably get carried away and need something to throw up in. And I threw in a few snacks, a first aid kit, extra money, a blanket, and a spare phone charger just in case."

I smiled. "We're not hiking in the Alaskan wilderness."

"Well, yeah, but you can never be too safe."

I laughed. She really had it all: she was charming, kind, pretty, and caring.

She left the box on the floor, and she gave me a small wave before she walked out of the room, and her pink curls bounced on her shoulders. She must have just fixed her dye job, because her hair was all the same vibrant rosy color, and I went back to my phone before I could let myself get any more worked up about her.