Page 13 of A Game Plan for Love

I inhale the last piece of grilled chicken on my plate, having eaten the quickest meal of my life. All evening, Addie has run around, ensuring everything is organized, players have what they need, and nothing catches on fire. She’s doing a wonderful job.

She’s passed my table twice, and each time her footsteps slowed.

It’s been a torturous day, wondering about her ‘something’ and why we need to meet at the potted plant. The meeting location is throwing me through a loop. Floppy leaves. Does the shape of the leaves mean something?

A hint perhaps?

She glances over her shoulder before she exits the large ballroom, and I wait thirty seconds before I follow her. I offer quick goodbyes to my teammates, promising Henry I’ll wake him up for breakfast, and make my getaway.

The foyer with the elevator is quiet and empty.

I scan for the plant with thefloppyleaves, but there are half a dozen plants, and all of the leaves could be described as ‘floppy’ if you look at them for long enough.

Where did she go?

I’m standing around like an idiot, surveying leaf shape, when Addie appears out of thin air, hands tucked tightly behind her back. Her eyes sparkle with excitement and nervousness, and I’m lightheaded from her presence. How have I never noticed before how incredibly beautiful she is?

It’s the kind of beauty that grows with her joy, and right now she’s radiant.

“Here.” She shoves a covered trash can into my grip. “They didn’t have a basket, and this was the next best thing.”

“You got me a trash can?”

I’m not ungrateful, just surprised by the unorthodox gift and why she needed to give it to me at training camp. Is she suggesting I’m messy?

The bin is heavy, and as it jostles into my hand, noise emanates from the container.

“Look inside,” she presses, hands clasped tightly together in front of her. I lift the lid, and air whooshes from my lungs. “I wanted you to feel special, too.”

I stumble and scramble to catch the falling trash can, full of snacks and small toys, like Addie raided the store for everything they sold. And like lightning crashes against my chest, I feel it—the elusive zing.

It’s difficult to pull air into my lungs, and Addie mistakes the silence. She steps forward, hands outstretched to take back her gift, and I rip it against my chest. Her steps pause, and uncertainty flashes across her face.

“I-I’m sorry. I overstepped. I just thought—”

“T-Thank you.” The words are thick with emotion. “This means a lot to me.”

There are few words to express how much this simple kindness means to me, and none I can express right now. Her eyebrows crunch together, then her features soften, and she takes a step and places her hand on my arm the same way as last night. It’s a comforting gesture, and though I don’t have the words, they don’t feel necessary, like she understands on a deeper level.

“There’s a note inside,” she says, her touch leaving tiny zaps along my bicep as she removes her hand. It seems like there’s more she wants to say, but she shakes her head. “See you tomorrow.”

She leaves me holding onto the trash can like a stuffed animal, heart racing, and I dig out the note with a shaky hand, desperate to read the words she wrote. Her handwriting is as beautiful as she is, all slopes and curves.

Declan,

I’m always here if you need a friend. I picked up a few things you like—which I know because it’s my job, not because I’m a creep. Just so we’re clear.

You deserve to be noticed and acknowledged.

- Addie

I stumble back to my room, barely holding back the tears that prick my eyes, and dump the contents onto the bed. There are my favorite snacks—brownie batter protein bars and kettle potato chips—and a box of the fruit snacks I steal from the nutrition room by the handful. Mixed in with the snacks are small toys and sticker books full of cartoon characters.

It’s one of the kindest things someone has ever given me, other than the recipe book the girls put together last Christmas.

The zing hits me square in the chest again when I pull out a face mask at the bottom of the trash can labeled with a Post-it note that says,something to keep you looking pretty.A small laugh pulls from my chest, and I fold the paper and slide it into my wallet.

A memento to remember this moment.

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