Page 140 of The Head Game

August would have to come up with something during lunch.

Music … it had to be the key. Not a concert though …

“What about the place we had lunch last week?” he suggested.

“Sure, the food there was good.” Nico smiled. “Maybe we could walk around for a while after too or something. It’s nice out.”

The sun was out today, shining off the few centimeters of snow that had fallen overnight.

“Hey, put your sunglasses on,” August reminded him. “So you don’t end up with a headache.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nico said, but he was still grinning as he shoved them on his face.

They drove for a few minutes, the car silent except for Nico humming along with the radio to some song August didn’t recognize.

An idea hit August and he nearly stomped on the brake. Perfect. They were heading in the wrong direction though.

“Wait, no, forget what I said earlier. Change of plans.”

He craned his neck to be sure the traffic was clear, then crossed three lanes with a screech, slipping into the left-hand turn lane.

“Auggie!” Nico said, laughing and holding on to the grab bar. “What has gotten into you?”

“I have an idea.” August took the corner faster than usual, tires slipping on the wet pavement.

“Where are you taking me and why are you driving like this?”

“Just … you’ll see when we get there.”

Nico eyed him skeptically but he was silent for the rest of the drive as August navigated Toronto’s traffic, heading toward Old Toronto and the Kensington Market area.

After August found a parking spot, Nico looked around with a curious glance. “What are we doing here? I mean, I like this neighborhood but it doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

August grinned. “You don’t think so?”

“I don’t know. Seems kinda … boho for you.”

“I have depth,” August protested. “Before I got into hockey, our family traveled a lot in the summer and I guess this reminds me of that.”

Nico smiled. “Just surprised me is all.”

Hopefully, a good surprise, August thought as he got out of the Porsche. “Well, if you’re familiar with the area, do you have a favorite restaurant you want to eat at?”

“Yes.” Nico grabbed his hand. “C’mon.”

Amused, August let Nico tow him along the snowy street. He was surprised when they stopped in front of a German restaurant.

Nico must have been able to read it on his face because he shrugged and said, “I’m in the mood for doner kebab. It’s Turkish but you can find it everywhere in Europe and it’s the closest I can get to what the Dutch call a shoarma.”

“I’ve seen it on menus but don’t think I’ve ever had it,” August admitted as Nico pulled him inside the small place.

“Whaaat? No, we need to fix that,” Nico said as he got in line behind some college students.

When one of them stepped back, Nico did too. He bumped against August’s chest and August automatically braced himself, wrapping his arms around Nico’s waist and hooking his chin on Nico’s shoulder so he could look over the menu board.

“So what’s good here?”

The air was filled with the scent of meat and garlic, and there were murals on the wall, a counter to order at, and a few open tables where they could sit in the bright and cozy space.

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