You would think I told him I named my first born child ‘TJ’ with the way his eyes light up and his smile turns into a streak of sunshine.
“I’m honored.”
“Millions of people watch you play every weekend,” I remind him. I’m deflecting, hoping he can’t see through me to know how I was glued to the TV, holding my breath every time he took the field. TJ wasn’t lying when he said he was right in the middle of things. The man is either a human monster truck or a human motorcycle racer, depending on the situation. Sometimes, he flies headfirst into the other team’s players, lowering his shoulder and plowing forward. Sometimes he swerves and cuts, zooming around the opposing team and leaving them in his dust. It’s impressive on all counts.
“Yeah, but they’re not you.” He crosses to the sink and washes his hands before joining me in the living room, acting like his comment is no biggie. Meanwhile, my stomach is a yo-yo, dropping to the floor only to be yanked up again. He takes a seat on the far side of the couch and motions for me to sit. “I can’t believe you’re Lucy Dupree and you’re here in Green Bay in my house.”
I snort at his direct delivery. “Honestly, same.” I perch on the opposite end of the couch. “I’m guessing you’ve heard of me … seen the footage.” A flush of shame crawls up my neck.
“Kind of hard to miss that.”
I twiddle with a string hanging off the edge of the pocket of my sweatshirt. “Yeah.”
I never know what to say next. I was bad enough in social situations before the People’s Picks fiasco. I’d get around a group of people, and they’d all be laughing and lobbing questions and comments back and forth, and I’d stand by awkwardly, not knowing what to say or how to contribute. It’s always felt like my brain was working in slow motion in comparison to everyone else’s. I’m the boring one … always have been. Add to it that now I’ve humiliated myself for the entire world to see.
“That’s not really what I care about right now, though,” TJ adds.
I blink. “It’s not?”
“It’s not that interesting.” He shrugs. “I’d rather talk about something else—anythingelse.”
My entire body exhales. It’s weird, really. TJ’s a star athlete. We’re so very different. I shouldn’t be relaxed. Then again, maybe it’s that very reason that I am. There are no pretenses with him. I know this’ll never amount to anything. He knows it too. So I can be myself.
“Alright then, I have to ask if you’ve seen the irony about a fox”—I point at the River Foxes hoodie he’s wearing—“tending chickens. Tell me about this.”
His eyes dance. They’re even bluer than I remember. “What do you want to know?”
“Is it weird for you … or for them … to be grilling their brethren right in front of them?”
TJ laughs out loud. It’s a rich, intoxicating sound, like a caramel waterfall over ice cream. “Wow, you really went there.”
“It’s a logical jump,” I tell him, sitting up straighter.
He bobs his head. “I guess so, if your brain is all morbid like that.”
“Rude.” I stick up my nose, but I’m fighting against a smile.
He chuckles. “I got them last spring. I had them growing up, and I loved tending to the chickens. Taught me responsibility and all that stuff. The fresh eggs are nice too.”
“Aren’t they cold out there?” I peer toward the window where I can make out the frame of the chicken coop.
“Nah. I have the heartiest breeds. Wisconsin winters don’t bother them. I built the coop myself and made sure they had some inside spaces to get out of the wind on the really frigid days.”
“Chicken keeper,” I say with a shake of my head. “That is not in your bio.”
He arches his eyebrows. “I feel like I’m at a disadvantage here. You’ve had an entire week to get to know everything there is to know about me—”
“I do have other ways to spend my time,” I interrupt him, even as my flushed cheeks are back, because he’s not wrong.
“The point stands. I don’t know anything about you, except what you told me at the gala.” He tips his head to the side, waiting for me to argue, I’m sure. I don’t really have a leg to stand on here. He’s right. He knows it. I know it.
“You can ask me what you want to ask,” I say.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Depends on the question.”
“Keeping up your track record as my mystery woman, I see.”
