“Did you just threaten me with your brothers?”
“No, I threatened you withmebecause I’m occasionally stronger than them. Where are we going, by the way?” she asked.
“Fratelli’s, down on Ninth,” I said, hoping it was okay.
“Ohh,” she said, nodding.
“Have you been there?”
“No, I’ve never heard of it, actually,” she said after a brief pause.
I raised my eyebrows. “The way you said ‘ohh’ made me think you were familiar with it.”
“No, I was just pretending,” she admitted. “I don’t really, uh, do upscale dining so I have no idea what Fratelli’s is. Italian?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, that is great because it’s the one genre of food where I like everything,” Duffy said. “Pizza, pasta, tomatoes, calamari, wine…all good.”
“Excellent,” I said, trying not to grin. I could tell by her fast-talking that she was nervous, and it was…charming.
I wasn’t sure why, but I liked the idea of putting her on edge.
And as I merged onto I-94, I realized that even though this was just a favor to the PR department, I was enjoying myself. Not only that, but suddenly I was compelled to know more about her before the night was over and I likely never saw her again.
“Okay, so tell me every little thing about Duffy Distefano,” I said. “And don’t leave anything out.”
7
Duffy
What a terrible question, I thought.
Even if I were out with a regular guy, I would hate this question because there wasn’t anything exciting about me. I was barely out of college, I had a decent job at a solid accounting firm, I lived with my dad, had a cat, and…that was kind of it.
I didn’t have a lot going on in my life, other than trying to get my student loans paid off and help my dad navigate his post-Mom life.
I cleared my throat, my stomach going crazy with nervous butterflies.
I was well aware of how awkward I was talking to anybody I didn’t really know. Ihatedbeing the center of attention, and trying to pull out actual interesting facts about myself while the other person watched me struggle was the worst. I tended to ramble endlessly and never get to my point.
But the fact that the person asking me about myself was Connor Freaking Cunningham, while he was driving his very fancy Porsche SUV—it was just a bit much.
“Um, I work in accounting,” I said. “I graduated last year and am studying for my CPA exams. I moved back in with my father last year after my mom died and I recently had a falling-out with a professional mascot, which made me a viral meme. One cat, no dogs. That’s kind of everything about my life. What about you?”
I wanted to slap myself in the face.What about you?What a ridiculous thing to say. What about him? Oh, he’s just an NFL tight end, MVP, former Heisman candidate, fashion icon, and general celebrity.
What about you? Do you also like cats and hate student loans, Connor?
Oblivious to my two-second mental spiral, he said, “I play football, have three cats, and I just bought a place in downtown Minneapolis.”
“Wait—are you a cat guy?” I asked in shock. I had no idea why that felt like a revelation, but for some reason it did.
“I don’t know that I’d call myselfthat,” he said, making a face like I’d called him a pretty little princess. “But I do, in fact, have three cats.”
“When did you get them?”
“Last year after I moved here, I adopted them from the shelter.”