Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
For his part, Finn gives them all high fives, learning each one of their names. He turns, surrounded by kids, the tallest one barely reaching the center of his chest, and beams at me. “Guys, meet my friend Chess. She’s never been to the aquarium, so we’ll have to make sure she doesn’t get lost. Let’s give her a big welcome.”
Feebly, I wave as all of them shout, “Hi, Chess” with various levels of enthusiasm. Finn winks at me before turning his attention back to the kids. I grin like a loon because he’s adorable with them, like an overgrown kid as excited as they are at the prospect of seeing a shark or maybe petting a stingray.
A blonde woman in skinny jeans and a T-shirt with a schoolhouse logo on it comes to stand by me. “I’m Ally, the program director. Thanks for joining us.”
“Sure. Although I don’t really know what all of this is about.”
“We’re an after-school sports program for children, sponsored and funded by Mr. Mannus . . .” She flushes a bit. “Finn, I mean. He keeps telling me to call him Finn. Anyway, this outing is one of many Finn takes the kids on throughout the year.”
We chat as Finn leads his crew to find the sharks. As soon as we stop, I find myself pulled into his orbit. His big hand engulfs mine as he tells the kids that his favorite shark is the hammerhead. This is met with much approval.
“What’s your favorite, Ms. Chess?” a boy, who’s probably around eight, asks me.
“Hmm . . .” I pretend to think about it. “I’m going with the whale shark.”
The kid looks unimpressed, but a couple of others pipe up to agree that the whale shark is awesome.
They race on to the next viewing window. Finn and I follow. He hasn’t let go of my hand, but I don’t mind. His is big and warm, the strength in his fingers tempered now by a gentle clasp. A hand worth around fifty million dollars a year in the eyes of pro football, and it’s holding on to me as though I’m the valuable one.
“Sorry I didn’t warn you,” he says at my ear.
Little shivers dance along my skin. I ignore them. “I’m beginning to think you like surprises.”
“I do.”
“Thanks for letting me be a part of this. You’re great with them.”
“Kids are easy. Completely unfiltered and ready to have fun, kind of like football players.” He gives my fingers a light squeeze. “So you don’t want to run away screaming?”
I’m not certain if he’s referring to the kids or football players. Either way, the answer is the same. “Only if you try to get me to touch a stingray.”
“Now, Chess, that’s basically a dare.”
Before I can answer, we’re swarmed by the kids who’ve realized their hero isn’t in their midst anymore. Finn doesn’t let me go, and I’m swept up along with him.
By the time we’re done, I know more about fish and sea life than I probably need to, and have been infected by a bit of Finn Mannus hero worship myself. How can I not be? When he lifts up each kid who asks for a better view. When he takes the time to shake employees’ hands and put them at ease when they get flustered.
Parents show up, and Finn takes a picture with anyone who asks. Each time, he grins wide as if he’s standing next to a good friend.
Finn might hate posing for professional cameras. But he clearly loves this part of his life.
He ends the tour by handing out T-shirts with his jersey number on them. “You didn’t give one to your girlfriend,” a solemn six-year-old girl points out. “You’ll hurt her feelings.”
I’m trying to figure out if it’s worth it to clarify that I’m not Finn’s girlfriend and my feelings won’t be hurt, when Finn catches my eye. A teasing smile plays on his lips. “You’re right, Maisey. But I’m out of shirts.” He takes off his baseball cap with his team logo splashed over the front. “Think she’ll be okay with this?”
“If she doesn’t want it,” an older kid drawls, “I’ll take it!”
Finn shakes his head. “You got your shirt, Darrius. My girl here needs something special.” He looks over his flock. “Girls like special things.”
A bunch of boys gag, but a few girls giggle.
Me? I’m both trying not to blush and restraining myself from rolling my eyes at his antics.
Finn’s expression, however, is soft and sincere as he sets the hat on my head, deftly tucking strands of my hair back behind my ears. The cap is too big and sits low on my brow. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m not taking it off.
A little cheer rings out. Before I can blink, Finn swoops in and gives me a playful peck on the cheek. I feel the warm brush of his lips like a stamp on my skin, pressing there long after he’s moved away.