“I…” am your stalker. In love with a stranger. Want to pounce on you. Watch you every night while pleasuring myself. A complete (harmless, except to myself) psycho that’s having an internet romance with you, without you knowing it.
Best to avoid truths in this answer, so I stall with stuttering over animal noises and incomplete sentences until another man approaches us. His pristine white shirt grabs Corbin’s attention. It’s the Battalion Chief. I know this because I’ve watched his ‘Five Things’ video too, hoping there might be some footage of Corbin in it. Sadly, there wasn’t. He’s a former New York smoke sucker, and he wears it proudly in his thick accent and swagger. The chief has Edgar in tow.
“Seems there’s a mix up between who’s s‘posta be putting out fires and who is s’posta be takin’ fire-starters to the hospital,” the Chief says.
“Miss,” Edgar says hard, but looking fearful of the chief, “please come with me.”
Corbin offers me his hand and I contemplate for a second before I allow myself to feel him. My hand slides into his—slow—so I can brace for whatever spark ignites. They do not burst into flames on contact like I expected, but I’m going to hope he felt a flicker of something.
He’s rough to the touch, but gentle, as he pulls me to my feet and leads me over to Edgar. “Got her?” he asks, not letting me go yet.
Edgar nods, but I doubt he could catch me if I stumbled. He’s half Corbin’s size, in every way you slice it.
I look back at Corbin. “Thank you.”
He smiles that smile I’ve watched for months, complete with the signature dimple in the pocket of his left cheek. “Unless you want me to come back here, Miss Pyro, stay away from fondue.”
Stay away? I almost killed myself getting you to come.
Ha.
That’s what she said.
I stare up at him. “You can rescue me anytime you like, Mr. Carmack. You’re like my white knight.”
He laughs. “Please, call me Corbin. And I’ll pencil your rescues in.” Did he just wink at me?
This is going better than expected. In fact, I say by this time next year you’ll be able to hear wedding bells.
“Until we meet again,” I say as Edgar carts me away.
“Don’t go starting any more fires, Little Miss Pyro.”
I wave and then turn around, happy with the way things worked out. I’m pretty sure I have some serious insta-love for the guy.
Setting my house on fire? Totally worth it.