“What about crepes?”
He nods across the street. I follow his gaze to a park that takes up most of the opposite block. There’s a line of food trucks parked, including one that advertises crepes.
Every guy I’ve dated has tried to impress me. Starting with Ricky, my first boyfriend. He took me to a fancy restaurant on Navy Pier for our first date and paid for it with his dad’s credit card. We were kids playing adults. In the past few years, every man I’ve gone out with has taken me to whatever place is considered to be the trendiest at the time.
I hate how Teddy knows I’d rather eat at a food truck.
“Yeah. Sounds good.”
We cross the street. There’s a couple already in line for crepes and an older man currently ordering. The couple looks like they’re around our age, mid-twenties. They’re arguing—heatedly—about which fillings to order.
When I glance over at Teddy, one corner of his mouth is tilted up in a half-smirk. “Do you know what you want?”
“Do you?” I ask.
“Know whatyouwant?”
I open my mouth to clarify. Then decide,What the hell?We ate together in the cafeteria a few times, but that’s it. Here’s the chance to remind myself there are plenty of things Teddy doesn’t know about me. Thathavechanged.
“I don’t think you do.”
He studies me for a few seconds, smirk growing. “Take out your phone.”
I raise a brow but comply.
“Type out what you want in the Notes app and then turn off your phone.”
I figure out where he’s going with this. I study the menu for a minute, then type out my order, like he said. I write,1 goat cheese and tomato, 1 shaved asparagus and lemon ricotta, 1 chocolate and strawberry.
“Done.”
“Okay. Go sit on that bench. I’ll order for you, and then you’ll show me what you wrote.”
A stupid smile stretches my face. “Okay.”
The bickering in front of us finally ceases.
The woman turns around, flashing an apologetic smile. “Sorry.” She has a British accent. “You should go ahead. We’re still deciding.” She pairs the second sentence with an eye roll aimed at the guy standing next to her.
“No problem,” I reply.
Her eyes linger on me for a moment, and for a second, I think my attempt at incognito has only lasted ten minutes. I scan the park. It’s mostly empty, but I’ve seen mobs appear from nowhere. I try to remember what time the meet and greet before the show tomorrow is. Maybe I can offer her tickets?
“You look a lot like that American singer,” she says, then turns back toward her boyfriend. Not even entertaining the possibility that Iamthat American singer.
Relief leaves me in a quiet whoosh of air. I pull my wallet out of my bag and hand it to Teddy. “I’ll be on the bench.”
I walk over to the bench he pointed to, take a seat, and watch him order. He doesn’t deliberate or dally. Whatever he’s ordering for me, he’s confident about it. And he pulls out his own wallet to pay rather than using mine, despite the fact that we both know the difference between our respective incomes.
“I gave you my wallet touse, not to hold,” I say as he sets down two brown paper takeout containers on the bench between us.
“Yeah, I figured.” That’s all he says as he sits down beside me and hands it to me.
I take it with a sigh. “Iwantedto pay. I invited you out, remember?”
“Yep, I remember.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re still just as stubborn.”