Page 8 of Personal Foul

“What the fuck is it about him?” I murmur to myself before driving home, consumed with thoughts of Garrett Stone.

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Chapter 3

Week 3

Reagan

My phone pings and I look down. I see that my favorite taco truck is parked not far and grab my purse. “Tacos solve everything,” I mutter, walking out of the office. I hustle down to my car, hoping I can make it there before the rush.

I click the unlock button on my key fob and go to get in when something catches my eye. I look down and see that my front tire is flat.

“Are you kidding me!”

“Everything okay, Reagan?”

I turn around and see Garrett and another player, Finch, walking my way. “No, everything is not okay!” I cry out.

“You have AAA?” Finch asks.

“Of course I do, but that’s not the point!” I whine.

“What’s the point,reina?” Stone steps up to me and starts rubbing my shoulders.

I know I should shrug him off, but I’m so tense right now that I accept the comfort.

“It’s been a shit day. Everything that could go wrong has. Then I find out my favorite taco truck is just down the way and I thought tacos would turn my day around, but then I walked down here and see this” —I wave my finger at my tire— “clearly I’m not getting tacos.” I growl.

“Sounds like you’re hangry,” Finch says, making me glare and Garrett hiss.

“How about we go get my car and we can get tacos. When we get back, I’ll change your tire for you,” Garrett offers.

“I told you I won’t go on a date with you. Besides, I don’t have a spare.”

He smirks. “It’s not a date,reina. It’s lunch. You can call AAA to come bring you one.”

I look down at my tire and back at Garrett, contemplating my next move.

Before I overthink it, I find myself saying, “Where are you parked?”

He grabs my hand and starts pulling me towards another car. He opens the passenger side door of a Land Rover and says, “Get in.”

I slide in without a word and set my purse on the floorboard after grabbing my phone. I pull up my roadside assistance app and file a claim.

Garrett calls goodbye to Finch before getting in the driver’s side.

“Where are we going?” Garrett waits for directions.

“Corner of Century and Hawk, it’s the Taco Loco truck.”

Garrett puts it into his GPS and drives in silence.

“Thank you,” I say softly.

Garrett looks over at me and gives me a smile. “Hey, it’s all good. We all have bad days and get hangry sometimes.” He shrugs. “Who knows, maybe you’ll tell me all about it. Or maybe not. I’m happy to help.”

Garrett parks the car, stopping me when I reach for the door. “Don’t get out.”

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