Page 44 of Trade Deadline

I chuckle. “What would he have done if you did?”

He shakes his head. “I have no idea, but El did show an interest, but my dad squashed that pretty quick. He used to play goalie for me in the yard before he started playing.”

Blaine demolishes two more tacos before suggesting, “Let’s play the quick question game. I’ll ask some questions, and you’ve gotta give me the first answer that comes to mind. Kinda like speed dating, but you don’t move on to another person.” His smile is deviant. “Because you’re on a date with me, and I don’t wanna share you.”

I roll my lips, trying to conceal the grin that threatens to appear. Inside, I’m still on cloud nine about being the main focus of his attention.

“Okay, then I'll ask you questions?”

He nods, picking up another taco.

I wipe my hands on the napkin and take a sip of my beer.

“Favorite movie?” he begins.

“Empire Strikes Back.”

“Star Wars, huh?”

“Yeah, nothing beats the original trilogy.”

He lifts his hand up, and we high-five.

“How about you?” I ask.

“Top Gun: Maverick.” He leans forward. “Have you seen the beach volleyball scene? How can you not get a boner over that?”

“That’s true, it’s pretty hot. Pizza topping?”

“I’m all about Philly cheese steak covered in ranch.”

My nose scrunches up at his questionable taste. “Pepperoni, but I kinda like anything as long as it doesn’t have pineapple.”

“Oh, the controversy.” He chuckles.

“What about ice cream? This could be a deal breaker.”

“Mint choc chip.”

“Okay, I could get behind that. I’ll be honest, I’m basic and love strawberry.”

“Nothing basic about you, baby.” He winks.

I laugh as my cheeks heat. Not from the compliment, but from the wink.

“Sex position?”

I choke on my beer and begin to cough. I hit my chest with my palm, trying to dislodge the fluid now stuck in my windpipe, and my eyes fill with unshed tears.

Blaine leans over the table, gently patting my back.

“Sorry…” He smirks, clearly not sorry in the slightest.

When the coughing subsides, I take a few deep breaths to regain composure, wiping my eyes with a napkin, and decide to pay him back with my own form of torture.

If he wants to play this game, it’s on.

I take a careful sip of my beer, noticing his eyes latch onto the movement of my throat when I swallow. Placing my bottle back on the table, I move closer, and Blaine mirrors my movement.

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