Invite him to a sporting event.
From Create Your Own Story
"Sporting event, huh?" Corbin leaned back in his leather seat and pondered for a moment. "Don't get to go to many of those with my schedule..."
"It'll be fun." You stepped out of the car and leaned into the front passenger window. "How's about I meet you at the ballpark?"
"That'll do." He nodded in agreement. And then right before he drove off, seem to remember something and looked back on you.
"That interview incident you had at the company."
"Yeah...?" Actually, you're still quite worried about that, you wonder if you should call the police.
"I'll take care of it." Leaving you with that, he speeds off down the road.
Several days later, you arrive at the baseball stadium in full sports fan-girl gear. A T-shirt of your dad's favorite old-school pitcher, though a bit outdated (Dad bought it for you when you attended a baseball game with him as a 13-year-old) and small enough that it barely covers your abdominal region, leaving a glimpse of bare waistline and belly button. A pair of casual and comfortable sport shorts matches the color of your striped knee-high socks and red and white sneakers. You complete the look with a baseball cap of your favorite team. As you side-step and weave through the sea of crowds to your appointed meeting spot, you see Corbin up ahead, wearing a light blue polo shirt and brown khakis, leaning against a metal railing with one arm resting on the top bar and a flyer in his other hand. His familiar jet-black, slicked-back hair held in place by a pair of sunglasses resting on his forehead. Although you must say he looks less like a mafia member without the black coat.
"Heya." You waltz over and nudge him with your shoe. He looks up at you from the stadium promo advertisement in his hand.
"Looks like YOU'RE dress for the occasion." He studies you up and down, grinning with some amusement.
"And it looks like YOU'RE not." You placed your hands on your hip and looks him up and down with lighthearted disapproval. "Seriously, who goes to a baseball game wearing khakis and a polo?"
"I told you. I don't attend sporting events that often." He retorted casually, seemingly unfazed by your verbal jab. "I'm not familiar with ballpark etiquette."
"Well, first thing you need to do... is to get a jumbo-sized hot dog!" You lead him along and head toward the concessions. "Com'on! Drinks and snacks are on me!"
The two of you took your seats in the bleachers sipping soda and chewing down hot dog.
"Not bad." He nodded approvingly.
"I told ya." You winked and waved your hot dog in his face. "Best meat in the ballpark."
"By the way." He took a sip of his coke and said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I handled that incident with Clark. You don't have to worry about him anymore."
"Thanks. You didn't have to do that." You grinned at him and leaned slightly in his direction. Something about the way he said it made you feel a sense of security. You relaxed your body and stretched your arms upward. "Now we gotta cheer on our team."
"Which one's our team?" He slipped on his sunglasses and looked out onto the field.
"Red and white uniforms. Go Rock Lobsters!" You jump up and down, tightly clutching both fists and shouting. "Rock! Lobsters! Rock! Lobsters!"
"This is pretty intense." He raised an eyebrow in startled fashion and chuckled. "Go Lobsters."
"Com'on, that was so weak. You gotta get into it!" You playfully nudge him with your hip. "Rock! Lobsters! Rock! Lobsters!"
"Alright, fine." He pushed up out of his seat and cleared his throat. "Rock Lobsters!!"
"Yeah! That's more like it!" You gave him a thumbs up and took another sip from your cola.
As the game concluded, the two of you walk side by side out to the parking lot.
"That was pretty entertaining. I should come to these things more often." He adjusted his shades and glanced back at the emptying stadium.
"Yeah, that went pretty well, especially since the Lobsters won." Chewing on a piece of bubble gum, you adjusted your ball cap, and then leaned over to squint your bright hazel eyes hard at him. "If they had lost, I would have to kick your ass for not cheering hard enough!"
"Alright, alright. Don't get so feisty." He throws his hands up in a surrendering gesture. "I'll admit it. I'm a terrible cheerleader."
The two of you shared a quick laugh. You start to feel more and more interest in this mystery man.
"Oh man, that was fun." You stretched while getting into the passenger side of his sedan, your breasts lounging forward and press against your sports tee.
"This was a nice idea of yours." He remarked calmly as he sat in the driver's seat of the parked car and lit a cigarette. Resting one arm on the top of the steering wheel while the other hangs out of the open window, he gazed silently at the reddish-orange blur of the setting sun from behind his dark lenses.
"Does this bother you?" He suddenly gestured at you with the cigarette.
"A little bit. Yeah."
Without another word, he flicked the cigarette out the window, much to your surprise.
"Give you a ride home?" He turned his head back towards you. "Or would you like to come to my place?"
