Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

9. Chew On It

9

Chew On It

My thighs chafed as I laid on my side to face the former quarterback. “So, what do you do besides throw people out of bars?”

Zack rolled his eyes. “I play in a band.”

Great. Another musician. At least he wasn’t a deejay.

“Wait. Is it the same one from high school? The one you did that show with?” Not the brass band. He was too busy during football season to play instruments at other people’s games. There was a ‘soundstage’ exhibition once a year. A bunch of scruffy guys played cover songs with a rare original work thrown in. He’d been in the show, bent over his guitar, rocking back and forth as sweat dripped down the base of his neck. Powerful. Passionate. Of course the crowd cheered for him.

He gave me a funny look. “You remember that?”

“I was around,” I said. Sure, it wasn’t mandatory attendance, but it was fun to hang out in the audience and dance in the dark, pretending I was at a real concert.

He adjusted his seat back an inch. “So, were you a big fan?”

“No. I was just there.” I knotted my arms tighter together. Naturally, his ego would assume I was obsessed with him.

He flexed his hand. “Well, some of the guys are the same. One moved for college.”

“And you stayed here for it? Or you came back after graduation?”

He didn’t have social media back then, and I wasn’t friends with his friends, so I never saw any updates.

“Something like that.” He scratched his ear. “What about you?”

I settled myself against the seat. “I got a degree in business marketing at the local college, and my condo was a steal, so I moved in right after graduation.”

“On a Fancee’s salary?”

I suppressed the urge to lean over the console and say, “I’m a model, bitch.” That wouldn’t vibe with Zack. He was being nice, and I had to be cool with him. I looked out the window and evened my voice. “I actually do some modeling.”

He casually switched to the ten-and-two position. “Oh, cool. Anything I’d know?”

“Shoes, mostly."

He wouldn’t know the brand names, even if they’d hired me.

“That is your department,” he said. “Is that a coincidence, or…?”

“I made connections. I also did some skincare and beauty shots. Social apps.” Or close enough to that. My portfolio work kinda counted, didn’t it? Even if I had to pay for the photographs or do them myself, I was promoting my own brand. It was an investment.

He bobbed his head to the music. “Sounds good. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I fiddled with the zipper. It was pretty neat. A dream. Too bad the only person who’d encouraged my career was using me. Well, using Bigfoot, at least.

Zack scratched the back of his neck. “How is working at Fancee’s? Do they offer decent pay, comparatively?”

I had just told him I was a model, and he was more interested in my department store gig? “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m mostly there for the discount. Plus, they offer part-time benefits.”

“That’s great.” His throat bobbed when his gaze flicked to the fast-food sign.

Was he hungry?

I sat up straighter. “I should have something to eat. And you're on break, aren't you? Can we stop by the drive-through?”

"Sure." He flicked the turn signal, then pulled around to the menu setup. “What do you want?”

“Fries and a chicken sandwich.”

He arched his brow. “No drink?”

I shook my head. I’d had plenty of those this evening.

As he leaned out the window to relay our order, his shirt rode up, revealing a triangle of bare skin on his waist. No six-pack. Not even a sprayed-on one like Theo’d gotten at the start of summer. But Zack was thick in a nice way. Meaty, almost. Solid. Okay, not in an objectifying, I’d want to take his shirt off kind of way, but a ‘hey, nice bod’ observation.

When he pulled up to pay, I tried to hand him my credit card.

“I’m not taking that,” he said.

“Consider this payment for gas. Plus, your burger is a lot cheaper than a taxi,” I said. He’d really saved my ass.

His lip ticked up as he took the card. “Thanks.”

“Thank you .” I folded my hands in my lap and tried not to look at his bare midriff when he leaned out the car again. God, this was awkward. Thankfully, I’d never have to see him again.

The inside of the fast-food joint cast a lemony sliver of light on his face and vintage T-shirt as he paid and got the order. He placed one of the warm, steaming bags in my lap, then tipped a nod to the cashier and said thanks.

Classic rock crooned over the radio as he spread his legs and shifted into gear. The masculine imagery wasn’t magazine cover-worthy, but it was weirdly comforting. A music video, maybe? My mouth watered at the aroma of grease.

Zack rolled up his window and glanced at me. “Do you have napkins? Everything you need?”

“Yeah.” I held the bag tighter, a crack of steam caressing my neck. “I have everything.”

We divided up the food as he drove. I munched on fries, trying not to stare each time he flipped a stray string of lettuce into his lips with his tongue. With one hand casually confident atop the wheel, his other hand loosely holding a thick, juicy burger, and his knees bobbing to classic Americana under durable, yet torn jeans, the scene struck me with familiar awe. He was the ultimate, all-American quarterback: square jaw, strong shoulders, loud, proud, and free.

The cheap haircut didn’t ruin anything. His carelessness was almost charming.

Theo was more charismatic. He cared about his appearance, like me. But I didn’t want to be like Theo when it came to personal things.

Yeah, I wanted the sparkly romper and money, to be elegant, desirable, and pretty, but I also wanted to be casually enticing. I wanted a brand deal. I wanted someone–someone like Zack–to look at me and think, “She’s cool, isn’t she?” Even if I was eating a burger. That girl could pull off designer heels and worn-out high-tops.

Would that ever happen for me? Was it a confidence thing?

Zack brushed his thumb along his lower lip. “What, do I have ketchup on my face?”

Crap , he caught me staring. I jerked my attention to my phone. “No. You chew loudly.”

He snorted. “Sorry.”

“You should be. Chewing like that in front of a lady.” I took a dainty bite of fry.

“Oh, excuse me. Miss Classy over here. Should I raise my pinky?” He lifted it and chomped on his burger, basically slurping up the remainder of the beef.

“Perfect.” I laughed. “So gentlemanly. You must be popular with the ladies.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed his food to one side of his cheek. “Only when they’re trying to bribe me.”

“Really?”

He nodded and crumpled his wrapper, then tossed it into his empty bag.

He didn’t have a girlfriend?

“But you work at a bar . Meeting someone should be easy. Especially with your build.” I gestured to his bulky biceps.

He knitted his brows at me and flexed. “I’m sure I could get a date.”

I tugged on my romper shorts. Did he mean he didn’t want any or that he could probably get a date with me? Something in my chest fluttered with the same haphazard chaos of a homework folder spilling its contents. I shrugged and rubbed my knee. “Maybe. If you learned to chew quietly.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m sure weirder things have happened on New Year’s Eve.” Like the quarterback offering the quiet girl a ride home. My phone buzzed with a notification. Theo texted me. The preview said “ Babe …” I swiped it away and sighed. It was 11:49. He’d find someone else to kiss. Maybe Bigfoot had snuck back in. Twisting my bag closed, I scooted to the edge of my seat. We weren’t too far from the apartment. Or midnight.

“Hey, Zack?”

“Yeah?” he asked.

I swallowed around a ball in my throat that tasted vaguely of tequila and fries. “My name wasn’t on the list, was it?”

He readjusted his grip on the steering wheel and tilted his head. “Technically, no. But I added it.”

“Why?” Was it because I was pretty or he didn’t want me to freeze?

“Because.” He shrugged, scratching his ear. “I don’t know. We go back.”

I grinned. So, he did remember me.

Forget Theo. Forget Bigfoot. Forget Anon73.

At midnight, I was going to kiss the quarterback.