Adele, the expert
I met Adele the summer after I’d flunked out of my first year at college. I was back in my hometown, dejected. My old man was so disappointed, he started charging rent, so I went out and got just about the only job I was qualified for – working concessions at the local minor league ballpark. It wasn’t the worst gig – most of the other employees were around my age, pre-burnouts, and we’d often get drunk beneath the bleachers before the park opened.
Adele was 17-years old, French, in town for a two-month homestay over the summer. Her and a dozen other students from her high school back in Lyon were being guided through all the cultural excursions our town had to offer and seemed completely bored with the situation. We were officially introduced at keg party in the woods. Oozing sexuality, she bummed a smoke off me. “They told us all to buy cigarette before we got here, but I thought it was bullshit.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, intimidated. “Well I could buy you some, if you’d like.”
She gave me this slightly superior look and said, “I’ll be OK. People give them to me whenever I’ve asked.”
Nervously, I made an excuse about needing to refill my cup and went to find the keg. I later found out that she’d already slept with a couple of guys from my old school, but I didn’t want to believe it.
The next night, the contingent of French exchange students came through to the ballpark. It was quite a site, a pack of weirdly dressed, coolly indifferent high schoolers wandering around, with no interest whatsoever in the game. I snuck from behind the snow-cone stand to seek out Adele, standing somewhat on her own, inspecting the tacky souvenir stand.
“Hey, do you remember me?” I said.
“From the party, right? With the cigarette.”
“Yeah, I’m Knox.”
“I’m Adele. This is boring. Take me somewhere.”
“Well, I’m sort of working….” I started to say, but when I noticed her begin to look disappointed, I changed my tune. “But wait, come with me.”
I took her underneath the stadium to the deserted keg room, where she immediately began grabbing my face. I really wasn’t too experienced with women at that point and didn’t know how to respond, until instinct took over and my hands began exploring Adele’s body all on their own. Far more experienced than I, Adele silently guided me through the act, which was over within ten minutes, though felt like eternity.
When it was over, I put my clothes back on, saying how I had to get back to my post. As I was walking her out of the storage room I said, “I have to ask, why me?”
She looked me up and down and said, “Why not?”
I spent the rest of the evening thinking about her, not paying attention to the job, nearly burning myself on the deep fryer. Was Adele even attracted to me? Did it even matter? She was so beautiful. She came and found me at my stand as her group was being guided out. “Hey Knox, I hear there’s another party tonight. Are you going?”
“Caleb’s kegger? Yeah, I’ll be there,” I said, trying to keep my cool.
“Alright, see you.”
I had to work late that night and didn’t get to the party until it was already winding down. I immediately sought Caleb out to ask him whether the blonde French girl was there.
“Oh, her. Yeah, last I saw she was making out with some frat guy in the backyard.”
“Of course,” I said. “Why not?” I could feel my heart capsizing. My face flushed. The lesson, I later realized – it’s OK if you want to punch outside your weight class – just know that sometimes you’ll take a beating. Or something.
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