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Fiona
There's another one over there, I point out the window at a photographer.
"You shouldn't point," Danny says to me. "It's rude."
I stick my tongue out at him.
I know! I just stuck my tongue out at Danny Manning! Of the New York Nailers!
And as I did so, there were like 40 flashbulbs that just went off, capturing the act. My sticking my tongue out has now been immortalized in the annals of Western culture. I'll probably show up on the Sports pages of the New York Daily Journal. As the woman behind the quarterback.
Yeah, I know I'm getting a bit ahead of myself here but can you blame me?
I'm sitting with a handsome hunk of man at Il Bolina, in Midtown on 53rd and 7th. The restaurant sat us next to the window - I think they knew this was going to happen, but to be completely honest, I didn't mind. I didn't really know the crush of reporters that was going to materialize out of nowhere on the edges of Times Square, but then again, I'm new to this world, ya know?
"I think you should wave and smile," Danny whispers in my ear.
Boom. Another fifty flashbulbs that captured him whispering in my ear. Maybe they'll have a tagline that says "Secret, Sexy Whispers" as they put us on the pages of the newspaper.
Oh my God, this is so awesome!
I raise my hand and wave at the press. A few of them wave back but a lot more snap pictures. The flashbulbs are stronger for me waving that Danny whispering, that's for sure. Again, I can picture the headline. "Beauty! And Modesty!"
Can you tell yet that it's gone a bit to my head? I mean just a lil' bit? No? Well, then this should probably help.
I lean over and take Danny's hand in mine and whisper into his ear. "I'm having a great night tonight, Danny," I tell him. "Thanks for taking me out."
I've never been so forward with a guy before! But then again, I need to find something to tell Danny, because the simple fact that I'm leaning over and whispering into his ear is making the photographers crazy. It's like 200 flashbulbs go off, snapping away pictures of me whispering sweet nothings into his ear.
He looks at me and smirks. "You're not shy, are you?" he asks me.
Another fifty flashbulbs.
I shake my head and bite my lip, coming closer to him. Do I really want to kiss him with an audience? What's that going to be? 300 flashbulbs?
"I'm not kissing you on camera, Fiona," Danny says to me, shaking his head slightly. "I'm not one of those athletes that looks to make bigger headlines off the field than on the field," he finishes.
That's okay. I can understand.
"But I've never even been on the field," I tell him. "So this is all new to me."
"And you're completely playing those guys," Danny says, gesturing briefly to the window. "Like a violin. You sure you've never done this before?"
I shake my head. Have I ever been in a situation where I've had to pretend that a gaggle of photographers outside the window didn't exist?
Uhm, that would be a no.
But have I ever crushed on a guy real hard that within the first ten minutes of sitting down to dinner I knew I was going to fuck him?
That's a big affirmative. And no, I'm not thinking of giving it up to him just because he's famous and has his own travelling press corps. I'm thinking of giving it up to him because he's cute and hot and looks like he has a giant cock.
Those are the normal reasons why girls should give it up to guys, right?
I lean over and pull Danny's face towards mine.
"Hey," I say to him. He looks at me and smiles.
I kiss him.
