Page 3 of Personal Foul
“Yeah.” I nod.
“I figured,” he says, jotting notes on a pad of paper.
We run through all his questions, everything from a description of the man to my recollection of what happened. It all went down so quickly, piecing it together again takes me a few minutes.
After we wrap up, the officer shakes my hand and says, “Thank you for stepping in to help her. It could’ve gone much worse if you hadn’t. I’m glad you’re here in Miami, and I’m looking forward to watching you play this season.”
I thank him for his service before he slips in that he’s a season ticket holder and how he’s hoping we’ll make it to the finals this year.
The paramedics do a quick assessment of my head to check for a concussion. In the end, they confirm everything is fine, and I will need to take it easy over the next couple of days.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, seeing her now-bandaged knee.
“I’m okay.” She smiles. “Thank you so much for your help. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened had you not been there.”
“It’s no problem,” I assure her.
She peers up at me over her long eyelashes and winces. If I had to guess, it’s from the nice shiner I was told I’d be sporting for a few days, but I’m confident it looks far worse than it truly is.
“No problem? You happen to look in the mirror yet, though?”
“Nah, but I feel fine, and they told me all is well. I’m not too worried about it.”
Her eyes travel over my face, down to where my hand is curled in a fist in front of my chest, zeroing in on my cut-up knuckles. I attempt to turn them away from her, not wanting her to worry about me but rather focus on herself.
“How’s your knee doing? Need any help, you know, getting to wherever you were going?”
She bites down on the corner of her lip, weighing her options with considerate thought, before responding with, “I think I can get around okay, although, I wouldn’t mind you walking with me. You know, for moral support.”
She fights back a smile as the paramedic tosses the remaining supplies into his bag.
He coughs slightly, muttering, “Do it.”
I glance over at him before looking back at her. A knowing smirk lines her eyes as she shrugs as if saying, “Well, are you going to listen to him?”
“You didn’t have to ask.”
The medic chuckles, lifting his bag off the ground and says, “Good, because if you weren’t going to take her up on it, I sure as hell was.”
He turns his attention back to her to give some instructions. “Now, just take it easy. If you experience any swelling, elevate it with some ice. It’ll be tender for a few days, but you’ll be back to normal in no time at all, I’m sure.”
She smiles, her eyes flashing to me, before thanking him. They clear out the lobby area, leaving us alone for the first time since we met.
Refocusing my attention to her, I hold my hand out to help her stand again.
“You know, we didn’t even get to introduce ourselves properly. I’m Colson.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Sydney.” She gives me an impish grin.
“Sydney,” I repeat, letting her name roll off my tongue. “Nice to meet you, Sydney.”
“Would you mind walking me up to my place?” she asks, motioning to the elevator. She purses her lips together, fighting off a smile.
“You know, it’s not safe to offer a stranger the opportunity to walk you to your door.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call you a stranger. You did just practically save my life.”
She smiles at me as I hold my arm out to her. Without hesitation, she loops her arm through mine, using me as a crutch to help her.Her other hand grips the strap of her purse, where the other end dangles from the side, the leather end frayed from where it was ripped.
