Morgan made a face. “I don’t drink coffee. Can I have an English tea?”
“Tea? Really? I thought Americans only drank coffee black.”
“And I thought the English were supposed to be polite and reserved. It seems we’re both all about shattering stereotypes.” She kissed me on the mouth and walked off. And man did I love to watch her as she did.
“You’re Lucas Bradley! Oh my god!” the teenage boy behind the counter exclaimed.
“Hiya. How are you?” I asked.
“Oh my god, I’m such a fan.” The grabbed a tablet of paper and a pen and all but shoved them at me. “Can I have your autograph? My dad will never believe that I met you.”
“Sure.” I scribbled my name. I glanced over at Morgan and she rolled her eyes.
“Can I have a picture too?” he squeaked.
“Um. Okay. But I’d really like to order first.”
“Sure. I’m really sorry. Of course. What can I get you?”
I rattled off our order and the kid punched it in. I noticed his hands were shaking. When he was finished he got out his phone. I leaned over the counter so we were almost cheek-to-cheek and he quickly took a selfie.
“Do you mind if I post this on Instagram?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“Go for it, mate.” I picked up my coffee and Morgan’s tea and headed back to the table.
“You’re so patient with people. I think I’d pull my hair out if I was barraged all day long for pictures and autographs,” she commented, dumping sugar into her tea.
“You want some tea with that sugar?” I joked, handing her the milk.
“I can’t quite get the sugar and milk ratio right. It’s harder than it looks,” she said, stirring the milky liquid in her mug.
“It looks like gnat piss,” I observed.
“I don’t want to talk about my crappy tea making skills, I want to know why you’re so distracted today. You didn’t even comment when my boob almost popped out of my shirt earlier.”
My eyes widened. “It did? No way! I would have noticed that.”
Morgan laughed and I realized she was messing with me. “Not funny. You can’t use your tits against me like that. It’s wrong.”
The boy from behind the counter brought over a plate of donuts and a few other things I hadn’t ordered.
“I didn’t order these,” I told him. I wondered if the boy was slow.
“I know. They’re on the house. I just wanted to tell you that you’re my favorite football player. Chester is lucky to have you.” He put the plate down on the table and hurried off before I could thank him.
“That was nice of him,” Morgan stated, picking up one of the donuts and taking a bite.
“Yeah, it was. Shame I can’t eat any of it. Strict no carb diet until Thursday.” I patted my belly and pushed the plate in front of Morgan so I wouldn’t be tempted to eat any of it.
“They really love you around here,” Morgan observed. She indicated the boy who was staring at us openly.
“They’ll have someone new to freak out over soon enough.” I tried not to sound bitter, but I did. I couldn’t help it. It was my guilt talking. My irritation that Mo had me thinking about leaving the city I now called home. That money was making me second guess everything. And mostly I hated being a person that was motivated by it.
“Okay, so what’s that about?” she asked, wiping sugar off her lips. I wanted to suck it off, but not with the boy watching everything we did.
“Mo sent over an offer from another club today. A big one. One that’s offering me a lot of money to play for them come January,” I found myself telling her.
Morgan took a slow drink of her tea. “And you’re thinking of taking the offer,” she deduced.
