Page 21 of Second Down Fake

Which he might have.

And I couldn’t blame him. I didn’t understand his concern about the picture we took together earlier. Other than the odd friend tagging me in an unattractive picture, I’d never had to deal with unwanted snapshots showing up online.

Still, his knee-jerk regret at taking a picture with me stung.

“Can I ask you a question?” Diego set down his gyro and leaned across the table. His stare turned uncharacteristically earnest.

“Sure.”

“Why didn’t you stay in New Hampshire when I was there?” His voice was light, but his jaw tightened once the question was out.

Diego had spent the last two summers in New Hampshire, training with my sister, and I’d moved heaven and earth not to be there. Not that it was hard. I didn’t have an apartment lease or pets or a job with benefits.

I just jumped at any opportunity to go somewhere else: a free couch, a tentative job offer, an interesting event.

My cheeks burned, and I dipped my head, tracing my fork through the tahini left on my plate. “I didn’t live in New Hampshire anymore.”

“Becca said you were home that first summer, and you took off right before I came to town.”

I waved a hand, avoiding eye contact. “Becca didn’t know what I was up to. She talks about training and football and nothing else. And that summer, she was a wreck. I had a place in Boston, a job. I told her that.”

“So you weren’t avoiding me?”

I asked. “Was there a reason to avoid you?”

His brown eyes narrowed slightly before he shook his head. “No. I didn’t think so anyway.”

“It was just bad timing. And I was there during the Highland games.”

“You waved ‘hi’ to me once. I wasn’t even sure I’d seen you until Becca mentioned you came for the games.”

Avoiding Diego during the event had been a little skill but mostly dumb luck.

“I was only there for two days, and we both were busy. Besides, you were mobbed every time I saw you, signing autographs and smiling at old ladies.”

“Old ladies love me,” he said cockily.

I laughed. “I bet they do.”

“But you didn’t avoid me?”

“Absolutely not. Why would I?”

I tamped down the lie with more falafel. At least I didn’t need to worry about food for the rest of the night. I cleaned up the trash, thanking the food truck owner before we piled back into Diego’s car.

He made his way through the after-work traffic, and I kept my mouth shut. I could already hear myself asking him if he wanted to get a drink. To come inside. To hang out longer.

Being around him felt as easy as it had five years ago, despite the distance and fame. Of course, the selfie had thrown the course of the day off track and, even without saying it, Diego probably wanted to get back to the safety of his home.

“Well, I promise if anyone contacts me for an interview, I’ll be nothing but effusive about our afternoon together.” I said with a grin. “I’ll have to tell them how bad you are at disc golf, though.”

“You had an unfair advantage.” Diego’s knuckles relaxed on the steering wheel, and the tension drained from his face.

“But I still won.” I leaned across the seat, brushing a kiss over his cheek before slipping out of the car. “Thanks for the nice day.”

“I’ll see you soon for that rematch.”

“Looking forward to it,” I said, before slamming the door shut.

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