Page 5 of One Foggy Christmas
Tate’s face morphs into confusion as he looks over his shoulder.
Four rows up, the man from the line points at the dog Tate is holding. “There’s a note on it!” he calls over the crowd.
Tate looks down and starts reading the scribbled message written on the wrapper. “Bro, I’d love to take out your sister. If she’s lying about having a boyfriend and you don’t think I’m crazy, please give her my number.” Ten digits follow his note.
Tate turns to me, and my entire face colors.
“You’re blushing!”
“No, I’m not.” I look straight ahead, ignoring him.
“And what’s with that smile?”
I roll my lips together, hiding all the evidence.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Like him? I don’t even know him.” I give my brother a pointed look. “Plus, I’m with Stetson. IloveStetson.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you're notwithStetson. He broke up with you last week because you moved to Chicago.”
“We all know that wasn’t a real breakup, just a desperate plea for me to stay.”
“Maybe it should be a real breakup, especially now that love-at-first-sight guy is in the picture.” He turns in his seat, waving back at him.
I peek back too, feeling my face heat.
I grab Tate’s shoulders, forcing him forward again. “Do not encourage him!”
“All I’m saying is maybe you should date somebody new while you’re in Chicago. You’ve never been with anyone else besides Stetson, and on your first day away, you get hit on. It’s a sign that there are more fish in the sea besides your lifelong boyfriend who loves you so much he just dumped you.”
“He didn’tdumpme. It was a posture move. Besides, Stetson is…great. I’m one thousand percent confident in my choice to stay with him.”
“What an endorsement,” Tate says under his breath. “Someday, I hope my girlfriend describes me as great. Maybe she’ll addreally neatto the list.”
I roll my eyes. “You know what I meant.”
He holds up the hot dog. “Do you want me to save this just in case you change your mind about the Cubs guy?”
“No need. I’m with Stetson.”
Kind of.
Technically, he did break up with me, but he was mad about Chicago. I know he loves me, and I love him. By the end of my internship, we’ll be back together.
“Well, I’ve never seen you blush over Stetson or smile the way you did for that guy.”
That’s because Stetson and I have foundational love. This is just flirting—something we rarely do anymore.
One of the Cubs players swings and launches a ball to right center. The crowd explodes as the ball goes over the wall.
I stand and clap, grateful for the distraction.
Stetson is top-tier. Despite what Tate says, I don’t fall over myself or get flustered by other men.
But as I clap, I peek over my shoulder one last time.
Cubs guy is already looking at me. He tips his head, giving me another one of his winning smiles. My heart throbs in the pitter-patter way that has only ever happened with Stetson.
