”You can’t drive us around to sell raffle tickets in your Lexus,” I said with a laugh. As planned, Shane had arrived mid-afternoon so we could earn money for basketball. “No one will believe we’re in need. Come on, I’ll drive.”
We spent the afternoon meandering through different neighborhoods, getting in and out of the car and knocking on doors. By the time evening greeted us, we were cold and worn out but pleased with our results.
“We should celebrate.” Shane indicated the clipboard containing the list of names from our raffle ticket buyers. “You hungry?”
“I might be,” I said, “Depending on the place. What’s on the menu?”
“Ever been to Hank’s?”
“Nope.”
“Come on then. You won’t be disappointed.”
“What makes you so sure?” I asked. “We hardly know each other. I could have very picky dietary needs.” I withheld my laugh, baiting his confidence.
Shane didn’t appear the least bit worried, but he asked, “You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”
I shook my head. “But if I were, would that be a problem?”
“No, not at all. Actually, I was hoping you were. I was looking forward to the challenge of convincing you otherwise. Once you eat at Hank’s, there’s no turning back.”
Shane’s directions led us to an old food truck, its exterior weathered and grey. My surprise must have escaped me because Shane smiled and said, “What? Just because I drive a Lexus, I can’t appreciate food trucks?”
“I didn’t say anything about you and your Lexus. Although, since you brought it up, why in the world does your dad let you drive his car?”
“He trusts me. I haven’t even had as much as a fender bender.” Shane shrugged. “Besides, I can be very… persuasive… when I want to be. I tend to get what I want.”
I couldn’t help but blush at the way he was looking at me, clearly referencing more than his dad’s car. I decided to move our conversation elsewhere. “Speaking of your dad, I was wondering… just how Italian are you?”
“I see you’ve been doing some research on me,” Shane said. “What else did you discover about me?”
I let out a laugh. “Yeah, you wish. It’s pretty simple, really. Your last name is ‘Moretti’. That screams Italian all by itself—that, and it’s November, which means everyone else is jealous of your never-ending summer tan.” I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt for emphasis. My previously golden skin from months in the sun had long since disappeared, whereas Shane still held onto his mildly olive skin tone.
Shane nodded, and I noticed his strong profile. “Ok, you’ve discovered my not-so-subtle secret. My grandpa is full Italian, making me only a quarter.” He straightened his posture with a boastful grin. “I’d say it works for me though.” He let out a laugh so I knew his arrogance was in jest, but I couldn’t disagree with him. His dark features and warm undertones made it hard to look away… except for when he caught me staring.
Exiting the car, the smell of grilled meat teased my senses, making my mouth water and my stomach growl. At last, our food was delivered in our hands, packaged in butcher paper. We opted to sit in my car with the heat blasting to warm up from standing in line outside.
“All right,” I said, removing the fully loaded wrap from its packaging. “Just know that I am judging you with every bite.” Shane laughed, but didn’t backpedal on his promise that I would love it. I’d trusted him to order for me. I sank my teeth into the bursting tortilla, the juices from the grilled chicken and steak blending deliciously with a sweet and spicy BBQ sauce. I closed my eyes with a laugh. “Oh wow… this is amazing....”
Shane watched me take another bite, not the least bit surprised by my response. “And you doubted me…” His eyes paused on my mouth, and I instantly became very self-conscious of eating in front of him.
I quickly swallowed, using the back of my hand to swipe at a smear of BBQ on my lips. “Ok, this is not fair. You can’t just sit there and watch me eat. You make me nervous!” Even as I spoke, juice from the bottom of the wrap started leaking, dripping onto my jeans. I titled the wrap, scrambling to smooth the butcher paper across my lap. Juice continued to dribble down my hand and trailed along my wrist.
“You lose points because they didn’t give us napkins.” I scowled at him when he laughed at me, eying the mess falling onto my lap.
“Why do I make you nervous?” Shane asked, his eyes still roaming my face, bouncing from my eyes to my lips again. “You have napkins right there, by the way.” He leaned in, reaching over me towards the side of my door. He grabbed a handful of leftover napkins from a previous fast food stop. His body lingered against mine a moment longer than necessary before he handed one to me. “You got a little something… everywhere,” he teased with a smirk. I smacked his face with the napkin.
“Ok, I never professed to have strong etiquette. Here, hold this.” I handed him my wrap, which was now bundled with the extra napkins. I licked juice from my fingers, forcing a laugh. “Yes, very attractive, I know…” I hoped making a joke would disguise my embarrassment. My eyes flicked over to Shane’s amused expression.
“Very attractive,” he agreed. Then he added, “You are, actually.”
I bit my lip, inhaling deeply to chase away whatever was twirling in my stomach. Crumpling the dirty napkins, I shoved them into the cup holders of the console. “Ok, just… give me that.” I snatched back my wrap with a shy smile. “I bet you’re glad you didn’t drive us in your Lexus now.”
“Yeah, no kidding, right?”
“Whatever. Go on; let’s see how well you do then.”
“You don’t mess with experts, Allie.” He pulled the wrapper off his food, peeling from the top but leaving the butcher paper wrapping attached at the bottom. He took a huge bite, cleanly filling his mouth. Once he managed to swallow, he made a show of dabbing at the corner of his mouth with his napkin. He grinned. “And that’s how it’s done.”