Page 19 of From Fake Dates to Forever Goals

We end up at my favorite fast-food restaurant, a place I frequent more often than I’d like to admit. Their food is always consistent and hits the spot every time.

“This place looks amazing,” Ava says, admiring the portraits of the restaurant and their staff through the years hanging on the walls.

“A lot of the workers have been here forever,” I explain as I notice her studying the photos. “You should hear some of their stories.”

She looks surprised.

“Are you part of those stories?” she asks.

I laugh and tell her, “Yeah, they’ve had to deal with me after a few too many drinks or bad dates. But they’ve always been great.”

Ava lets out a quiet chuckle, her lips curling into a small smile. I don’t say anything, enjoying the moment of shared amusement.

We make our way to a booth, and our waiter appears with two menus in hand. It’s Sal, a familiar face who’s always been far nicer to me than I probably deserve. He smiles and gives me a knowing wink.

“Thanks, Sal,” I say, giving him a quick nod as he places the menus on the table and disappears to the kitchen.

Ava studies the menu intently, while I already know exactly what I’m going to order.

“What do you recommend?” she asks, glancing at me over the top of her menu.

“I always get the turkey quarter pounder with the pepper fries,” I reply confidently.

“That sounds like a mouthful,” Ava laughs. “Literally.”

“It is, but it’s alsochef’s kiss,” I say, dramatically pinching my fingers together, kissing them, and pulling my hand away slowly for effect. “You should try it.”

“Okay.” She shrugs her shoulders, clearly not needing much convincing.

I catch Sal’s eye, hold up two fingers, and nod toward the door, signaling for two to-go orders of my usual. He nods back, scribbling on his notepad before heading to the kitchen.

Our food arrives quickly, packed in white paper bags with grease stains already seeping through. The smell is amazing, and my mouth waters as I pick up the bags.

With our burgers and fries in tow, Ava and I stroll toward the beach, the cool breeze brushing against us. We find a cozy spot shielded from the wind and sit down to enjoy our meal.

Ava takes a bite of her burger and closes her eyes, savoring it like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

“Holy shit,” she says with her mouth still full.

“Told you,” I say, unwrapping my burger and taking a bite. Somehow, something so simple feels comforting.

“You looked really good out there today,” Ava says, popping a fry into her mouth.

I glance at her, appreciating how she eats the burger unapologetically, without any concern for how messy it might be. It’s refreshing—just us enjoying the food without pretenses.

“I’m trying harder to refocus on my game,” I admit. “Get back to the fundamentals and block out all the noise.”

“Noise?” she asks.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a wreck on the field lately.” She doesn’t respond, but her silence tells me she probably has noticed.

I know my off-field life has been bleeding into my performance, and it’s no secret. Jimmy’s been blunt about it: I’m onthin ice, and if I don’t shape up, I’ll lose my spot on the team—and my inheritance.

Soccer has been my life for so long, it’s hard to pinpoint when I started letting it slip. I’ve always enjoyed the fame, but somewhere along the way, I started enjoying it more than the game itself.

“Don’t you get tired of being in the papers constantly?” Ava’s voice cuts through my thoughts.

We’d been eating quietly for a while, and her question catches me off guard.

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