When we got to the window, I was shocked by how unsurprised the guy looked as he took Connor’s card.
Maybe scootering through the drive-thru wasn’t as bizarre as I’d thought.
But when the employee held out our fountain drinks, I realized it wasn’t going to work.
“We can’t carry our stuff while driving,” I said to Connor. “We’re going to have to eat here because there’s no way I can—”
“Leave it to me, Distefano.”
I watched in disbelief as he took the two fountain drinks and carefully slipped them into the side pockets of his backpack like the pouches were meant for fast-food soda. And when the guy handed him our bag of food, he shoved it into the backpack and zipped it up.
“Oh my God, you’re like a soccer mom with that backpack,” I said. “Or like a PTA mom on a zoo field trip. Did you plan this part out?”
“I might’ve,” he said, looking smug. “Never say I’m not a details guy.”
“Color me impressed,” I said. “So where should we take our food?”
“The Commons,” he said. “Come on.”
Great idea.I followed him out of the parking lot, doing my best not to beam like a lovesick fool because how perfect was this lunch? Ilovedthe Commons and went there whenever it was nice. It was a big green park in the middle of the city, and sometimes on my break, I’d walk over there to just sit on the grass and read.
So the fact that Connor wanted to go have a picnic lunch with me there felt…special, as much as I hated using that word. It felt like more than just a regular weekday lunch. I followed him until he slowed on the sidewalk by a grassy area with trees.
“Want to go over there?” he asked, stopping and pointing toward a table.
“Perfect,” I said, stopping beside him.
We got off the scooters and went over to the table, and to say I was charmed as he pulled our lunch out of his preplanned backpack would be a massive understatement. Especially when he unfolded one of those classic red-and-white-checkeredtablecloths and spread it over the table. It was cheesy and over the top, and as I watched him carefully set my food on top of it, I felt so much appreciation for him that it was almost overwhelming.
I kind of wanted to hug him for being so sweetly thoughtful, which was funny because at a glance, Connor’s appearance sent the opposite message.
He looked like an absolute athletic unit, definitely not someone who needed the protectiveness that I suddenly felt for him.
“Thanks for the invite,” I said, putting my straw in my drink. “This is great.”
“It really is, isn’t it?” he said, his eyes surveying the green space in front of him.
“Yeah,” I said. “I actually eat over here kind of a lot. Do you? Maybe we’ve both been here at the same time before.”
“Um, no,” he said. “I always want to, but it just seems—”
“Oh my God, of course,” I interrupted, feeling a little silly for not realizing. “It’s probably impossible to come here for lunch when you’re famous. I’m sure you can’t quietly grab lunch on the greens without being noticed.”
“I’m also not great with eating out by myself,” he volunteered as he pulled a slider out of its cardboard box.
“You’re not?” I asked with a laugh, because how could that be true? He was so incredibly confident, but the way he said it almost made him seem like a tiny part of him could be insecure.
Impossible.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, pulling out his fries and tossing one in my direction. “I can eat by myself in public and I do sometimes, you jackass, but I don’t always feel like going somewhere really crowded when I do it, okay?”
“Are you shy?” I teased, wanting to make him feel better because he looked slightly uncomfortable, like he’d shared a little too much of himself. “Is that what it is?”
Honestly, that was probably one of my favorite things about him. Connor was this wildly confident athlete, a world-famous competitor, but moments like this reminded me that he was just a human being like the rest of us. A very regular guy who could actually be insecure about eating by himself in a crowded place.
Which was truly mind-boggling when he’d been in freakingGQlast year.
“No, I’m notshy, you little shit,” he said. “I’m actually starting to wish I was by myself this very minute.”