Page 9 of Personal Foul

He slides out of the car and walks around to my side, opening the door.

“Thank you,” I murmur, finding the act sweet, but uncomfortable.

This is not a date,I remind myself.

We walk over to the truck and place our orders. Garrett pays before I can pull out my wallet, causing me to glare at him.

“Not a date. I know. You had a bad day. Let me treat you. I’ll wait here for the food while you go grab that picnic table before someone else does.” He gestures to the table.

My will to fight him over this leaves me, exhaustion over the events from today settling in. I nod and walk over to the table, taking a deep breath as I sit.

Today is just one of those days where you wake up and one thing goes wrong, setting your whole day negative. Then one thing after another adds up to make your day extra shitty.

“Here you go.” I hear the taco container slide towards me and open my eyes.

“Thank you, again.” I manage a weak smile.

“Seriously, it’s no problem. Besides, you said tacos. Who can turn down good tacos?”

We both dig into our food and moan. “So good.”

“It makes sense now.” Garrett nods.

“What does?”

“Why you were so upset over the idea of not getting these. These are some legit street tacos.”

“You would be one to know,” I tease.

“What makes you say that?”

I quirk my brow and eye his Virgin Mary tattoo.

“My mother’s from Spain, not Mexico.” He chuckles.

I feel myself blush. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” Making him laugh harder.

He reaches out to touch my arm. “Happens more than you know. But for the record, tacos for us are exotic, as crazy as that sounds.”

“Tell me more?” I ask between bites.

“What do you want to know?” He goes back to his own food.

“Anything, everything.” I shrug.

Garrett gasps. “Is this a date?”

I roll my eyes, Garrett laughs again.

“Let’s see,” he thinks. “We love paella, a rice dish cooked with vegetables and meat. Do you like sangria?”

“Of course.”

He nods. “That comes from Spain.”

“Sounds like my kind of people,” I tease, making him laugh. “What else?”

“We have flamenco, a style of dance. Futbol.” He smirks.

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