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I always thought I would ask him a million questions if I could meet Fallon Harris in person. Ask him how he twisted his wrist perfectly nearly every time to skip shots behind his back. Ask him how it felt to play in the Olympics, was it different from college? Was it better when he was sixteen or twenty-eight? But now, after spending multiple days a week with him for the past few weeks, some of the shine has worn off. He’s just a normal, annoying man like the rest of them.
Fallon clears his throat, and I glance out the windshield, barely noticing he’s pulling into the burger place that a lot of my classmates rave about. “You okay with this?”
“I don’t have any money. My bus pass is pre-loaded,” I say quickly because I forgot to think about how I was going to pay for my meal when I agreed to come.
He flinches as if I’ve insulted him. “You think I don’t pay for a lady’s meal when I take her out?”
My blush can’t be stopped at the hint of a date and his eyes widen.
“I meant, like in a you’re my player and I’m your coach kind of take you out way.” He stumbles, the waver in his tone adding to the awkwardness between us.
I bite my lip to stop from laughing at him and shake my head. “I wasn’t thinking of any other way.”
He grimaces and climbs out of the truck. I get out slowly, trying not to limp as I follow him into the diner.
“Need a hand?” he asks, the humor lacing his voice making me narrow my eyes. I flip him off as he snickers and holds the door open for me to walk through. My heart flutters at the gesture. It’s common courtesy, but it reminds me of something a boyfriend would do. And it doesn’t help that Fallon is incredibly handsome. Off-limits, but hot nonetheless.
He leads me to a booth in the corner and I slide in as he sits across from me. Fallon grabs the menus from the end of the table and hands me one.
“Have you been here before?” he asks, glancing over the options.
I shake my head, my mouth watering over the variety of burgers. It’s been a while since I had a good one. “I don’t get out much.”
“Really? They say college is supposed to be your wild years.”
I look up to see the small twitch of a smile on his lips, and I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant and not remember that he thinks I only came here to party.
“Like I said, I don’t get out much.”
He hums, closing the menu as I return my attention back to mine. I can feel his gaze as I look it over, my cheeks burning hotter the longer it goes on. By the time the waitress comes and takes our order, sweat is gathering at the back of my neck from his intense stare.
When she disappears to put in our order, it leaves us alone and with nothing between us to focus on. I take the napkin around the rolled silverware and pull it out, fidgeting as I slowly straighten to put it over my lap.
Fallon watches me curiously, and I finally look up.
“What?”
His eyebrows raise. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone use paper napkins for their lap in a burger joint.”
My tongue tingles and grows heavy with embarrassment. I clear my throat.
“It’s a habit from when I was young.”
“You were a proper toddler with good manners?”
I snort, covering my mouth as it slips out. I look away from him as I shake my head. “Uh no. Far from it actually. I used to wipe my fingers on my clothes while I was eating. I guess it was like a compulsion or something. My mom taught me to put a napkin there, so I would stop getting my clothes dirty.”
My heart warms as he smiles genuinely. It brightens his face, and he reaches out to unfold his own napkin. “Well, if Mama Peters insists. Who are we to judge?”
I scrunch my nose. “You, apparently. You’re the first person to ever point it out.”
Fallon adjusts the silverware on the table. “I’m an observant person.”
“Or maybe everyone else was just too polite to say anything.”
His gaze clashes with mine, the heated amusement from earlier returning, and I twist my fingers together in my lap.
“Maybe, but I bet they were thinking it,” he says.
