Page 67 of Tangled with the Tight End

“I am.”

“How did you know that?” Winona asks.

The little boy says, “He plays for the Thunder.”

“Do you want my autograph?” I ask the boy.

“Your what?”

“Do you want me to sign my name on something for you?”

Winona’s face scrunches up in a confusion mirroring the boy’s.

“I want a picture with you,” the boy says.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Benson, but people just call me Benny.”

“Okay, Benny. Who’s taking our picture?”

His mom approaches us. “Sorry about that. We don’t mean to swarm you when you’re just coming out for ice cream.”

“Not a problem,” I tell her.

Winona steps away from us, offering to take the phone from the mom so she can get in the photo too. Winona snaps a few pictures with the mom and a few with just me and Benny.

A few heads turn in the ice cream parlor after that, but no one approaches me for a photo or an autograph. Winona and I get our cones and then we sit at a bistro table on the sidewalk in front of the shop eating them.

“I almost got salted caramel,” she says.

“How’s coffee chip?” I ask.

“Here. Have a taste,” she says, holding her cone out to me.

I lean in, holding her gaze and take a small bite. “Mmmm. Good.”

“Try mine,” I say, tipping my cone in her direction.

She leans in, but instead of holding my gaze, her lids flutter shut and she takes the bite and hums softly. “So good.”

She pulls away, her lips covered in a smear of ice cream.

“You’ve still got …” I motion around my mouth.

“Oh!” Her tongue darts out and she licks her lips.

I realize I’m staring. So does Winona.

She smiles over at me and says, "What?"

I don’t know why I say what I do, but it’s the first thought that comes to mind.

“You're different.”

She laughs. “You're just now picking up on this?” She takes a long lick of her ice cream. “Get with it, football player.”

I smile back at her. “Yeah. I am.”