He pulls into the gas station, puts the truck in Park, then grins. “You got it. I told Davis you weren’t a fancy restaurant kind of girl.”
“You told Davis about me?”
“Well, I told everyone about you. They don’t know that you’re you though.”
My stomach feels like a flurry of butterfly wings. “What did you say?”
He leans over to kiss my cheek, then whispers, “Nice try.”
Then he gets out of the car to pump the gas. Levi Soucy pumping gas. Obviously, he does, but that’s only one thing that strikes me as so normal while we’re out. He pumps his own gas. He probably cooks his own meals and calls his mama on the phone. He has stories from when he was a kid, like we all do. Maybe he has some trauma in there. Past high school sweethearts and best friends. Levi is like the rest of us, even under all that charm.
I check the side mirror. He has the pump on automatic, and he’s standing back, probably searching for nearby restaurants on his phone. Even though he is normal, his appearance isn’t. You can see him from a mile away and know that he’s top-tier level of man.
The pump stops, and I peer away so he doesn’t catch me watching him. Within a minute, he’s back in the truck. “I found a place a few miles down the road that has everything you talked about, plus some comfort food.”
“Let’s do it.”
He pulls out and fits his phone in a holder on the dash, pressing Start on the GPS app.
“So…I thought we could play a game of question and answer,” I say, glancing over to get his reaction.
“Oh dear. How deep do you plan on going?”
“I’ll throw you a couple soft ones at first.”
“Deal, as long as I can reciprocate.”
“Absolutely.” I watch as he merges onto the highway. “Sports you played as a kid?”
“Oh, T-ball, soccer, lacrosse, basketball—but I wasn’t very good at it—and football, of course.”
“That’s…a lot.”
“I like being active, and the competition. Did you play anything?”
“Volleyball, actually.”
“You don’t say. All the hot girls in my high school played volleyball, so that tracks.”
“Okay,” I chuckle. “Trust me, I was not pretty in high school. Braces, awkward, all the things that make you unpopular. Let me guess, you were homecoming king.”
He groans. “Ugh, don’t bring that up. Our quarterback was homecoming king. I was one of the court, though, but I wanted it bad.”
A giggle escapes. I can picture him being upset he didn’t win but trying to brush it off with all his charm.
“Hey, it was hurtful!”
I laugh harder. “I’m sure it was. Did your quarterback make it to the league?”
“Actually, no. He peaked in college.”
I hold my fist out and he bumps it with his own. “High school sweetheart?”
He sighs with a bit of a wistful smile. “Her name was Jill. Her daddy didn’t like me, but we held on through the first year ofcollege before she called it off because of the distance. She just had a baby with her husband. I haven’t talked to her since she broke up with me.”
“So no baby gift?”
He purses his lips. “Should I have sent one?”
