Page 51 of Hooked On Them

“Dude, you’re having the sickest season! That goal against Cleveland? Amazing!” His enthusiasm practically vibrated the frozen food doors. “Can I get your autograph?”

“Sure.” I set my basket down, suddenly very aware that it looked like I was either stocking up for the apocalypse or planning to eat my feelings into oblivion. I signed the receipt the kid thrust at me, hoping this would be quick.

No such luck.

The kid peered into my basket, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline. “Damn, big party or big problems?” He laughed, completely unaware of how close to home he’d hit.

I searched my brain for a believable lie. “Carb loading.”

“With three kinds of ice cream?” His eyes narrowed skeptically.

“Don’t judge me.” I snatched up my basket, desperate to end this conversation before I had to explain why a professional athlete was buying enough sugar to put an elephant into a diabetic coma.

“And brownie bitesandOreos? My mom would never let me?—”

“Great meeting you, big fan of your... enthusiasm.” I backed away, nearly tripping over a display of protein bars that would have been a much more reasonable purchase.

After adding an overpriced bouquet of flowers because, shit, was that appropriate? Too romantic? Not romantic enough? I dumped my haul on the checkout counter. The cashier, a woman old enough to be my grandmother, scanned my items painfully slowly.

“Someone is a lucky lady,” she observed, holding up the triple chocolate brownie bites with a knowing smile.

“Uh, no.” I pushed my credit card at her. “Just treating myself.”

“Mm-hmm.” She packed everything into bags with the painstaking care of someone who had all night to tease me. “You did good, kid.”

I mumbled a thank you, grabbed my bags, and practically sprinted from the store, wondering how a ten-minute shopping trip had turned into an interrogation from a fan and a granny.

The walk to Nora’s apartment building seemed much longer than it should have. Maybe because I kept rehearsing what to say, then immediately discarded every opening line as too casual, too serious, too everything. By the time I reached her building, I’d mentally written and shredded an entire screenplay of potential conversations.

Standing outside her door, I suddenly felt like a complete jackass. I’d bought enough food to feed a small army, plus flowers? Was I trying to look desperate?

Before I could overthink myself into a cardiac event, I knocked, shifting my weight from one foot to the other like some nervous teenager instead of a grown-ass professional athlete.

The door swung open, andfuck.

Nora stood there in black leggings that hugged every curve and an oversized sweatshirt that slipped off one shoulder. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she wasn’t wearing makeup. She looked soft. Touchable. Like everything I shouldn’t want but couldn’t stop thinking about.

Her eyes widened at the multiple bags dangling from my hands.

I realized I’d been standing there gaping like a fish, and I held up the bags. “You said there was only one brownie bite left. I, uh, got more. A few more. Different kinds.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “I see.” She stepped back, gesturing for me to come inside.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want.” I set the bags on her kitchen counter. “So I went with the everything approach.”

“Flowers too?” She reached for the bouquet, and I watched her throat work as she swallowed. “That’s... unexpected.”

“Bad unexpected?” I was suddenly aware of how close we were standing in her narrow kitchen.

“Just unexpected.” She filled a vase with water, and I didn’t miss how she wiped at one of her cheeks. “No one’s brought me flowers in a long time.”

“Well, that’s fucked up.” The words escaped before I could filter them. “You deserve flowers.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, then pulled them out again, feeling completely out of my element. “And brownie bites. And whatever the hell else I panic-bought.”

A genuine laugh bubbled out of her, and something in my chest loosened at the sound.

“Ice cream melts. I should put it away.” I was desperate to do something other than stare at her.

She reached for the bags at the same time I did. Our hands collided, and we froze, eyes locked on each other. I swallowed hard, my eyes following the line of her throat as she took an almost imperceptible step closer.

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