“Well, aren’t you cute?” he says as he exits his car.
“I even made our little tables more stable with books.” I lean on them to show how they won’t collapse.
“I meant,you.” He grins. “But, yes, this all looks great as well.”
I try to hide the blush his words caused before turning and saying, “I’ll go get the food.”
I swear I hear him chuckle at my awkwardness. When I turn around, I see him checking me out.
“You like what you see?” I ask coyly.
“You have no idea.”
I grin and continue my way to the house. When I come back, he’s sitting on his blanket with two glasses of wine already poured.
I set the lasagna down with a proud expression.
“That smells amazing,” he says.
“Wait until you try it. Now, I made sure to take your plate, silverware, and glass straight out of the dishwasher, holding them only by a clean towel so I didn’t touch anything and—”
“You didn’t have to go through all that trouble,” he says.
I can tell he wants to reach out to touch me to make sure his words are meaningful, but he holds back and grins instead.
I shrug. “I just wanted to make sure you knew I was taking this seriously. I know you have a reason to worry about it, so I am too.”
He smiles bigger, and I look down, grabbing the spatula to cut him a piece.
“Now, how much do you want?” I place my tool on top of the lasagna, asking him with my eyes where I should cut the food.
“Right there is good,” he says.
“Obviously, there’s plenty, so you can always come back for more too. Here, hold out your plate.”
He does, and I dish him up before getting mine. We both sit at our spots a few feet away and eat our dinner.
“Have you seen how bands are doing covers of other bands’ songs and posting them to Instagram?” I ask.
He shakes his head after he takes a bite and wipes his mouth with his napkin. “No. Any you like?”
“Yes!” I say dramatically. “Jen Ledger from Skillet did a cover of ‘Gravity’ by Papa Roach with a band called From Ashes to New. It. Was. Amazing! I shared it to my stories, so you can check it out later.”
“What makes you think I’ve viewed your stories?” he teases.
“Don’t lie. You have totally been checking me out. You do realize that accidental heart you gave on a photo from a year ago still notified me even though you took it off really quick, right?” I say with a smirk.
“Busted,” he replies playfully. “Then, you’ve been checking me out too?”
“Uh, duh! I’ve seen everything. Your Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, ESPN, MLB Network—”
“Okay, okay, not fair. You have more avenues to cyberstalk.”
“Yep, sure do. Don’t be jealous. Sorry I’m not as famous as you are.”
He takes an extra napkin I have sitting between us, crumples it, and throws it at me.
I laugh and dodge the object just in time. “And you say you’re a baseball player.” I make atsk-tsksound with my tongue.
