I think about something. “Wait a second. Isn’t Seattle playing Dallas today? You grew up in Dallas and cheered for the Cowboys growing up, and now you’re wearing a Seattle jersey? You’re almost as bad as my sister.”
Desmond chuckles. “You really expect me to cheer for Dallas when my best friend is leading Seattle to a victory?”
I shrug. “I expect you to be true to your roots. Are you even a Seattle fan if you’re just going to change your colors the moment Zach gets traded?”
He raises a brow, and I immediately regret my statement. “Guess I’ve got six years to figure that out, don’t I? Besides, he’s not my only friend on the team.”
“That’s right. Balko is a bestie, isn’t he?” I grin, knowing that even though I’m barely saying a word, it’s pissing him the hell off.
He huffs out a breath. “Why do I even bother?”
I shrug. “I was wondering the same thing myself.”
“What about you? You coming to the game?”
“Nope. I wouldn’t really fit in if you know what I mean.”
He makes a point of scrolling over my outfit again before chewing on his bottom lip. “I think you would fit in just fine.” His eyes snap to mine. “What if I told you I have an extra ticket?”
“I’d say you’d better find someone who can stand you enough to stand with you.” I grin at my joke while Desmond smirks.
“Maybe it’s you who hates me, not the other way around.”
“Maybe I do.”
“Really? As much as you hate cooking?”
“Worse.”
He laughs, and as hard as I’m trying not to flirt with him, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m doing.
He tsks while shaking his head. “That’s unfortunate because I bet you’d be an instant Seattle fan if you gave it a chance.”
I can’t deny that there’s an insane curiosity bouncing around the back of my mind—to experience the game again and to see my dad. But becoming a fan is a little much. “Oh yeah? How much do you want to wager?”
I can tell that throws him off track by the way his expression changes from playful to serious. “Wait, so you’ll actually go?”
“Do you actually have an extra ticket?”
Desmond digs in his back pocket and pulls out two tickets. “I usually bring a date. Or sometimes I meet a girl here and ask her to sit with me,” he says with a proud grin. “But I could let you have this today if you’re serious about coming.”
I narrow my lids at him. Did he just say what I think he said? “You seriously do that? Just meet a random girl and then ask her to sit with you at a football game? How desperate are you?”
“First of all, we stand. No one sits at a football game. But going back to your questions—I’ve found it’s a better way to meet women than online or at the bar. This way, at least we have a common interest.”
“Oh yeah?” I challenge. “If your interests are so common, why do they need a ticket to the game?”
He throws his head back and chuckles. “Most of them forego their tickets to come with me. They give their tickets to a friend who otherwise wouldn’t have been able to go.”
Damn it. I really wanted to make a point but failed per usual when it came to Desmond.
“So let’s get back on track,” he says. “Are you coming with me today, or do I need to find another lucky lady to accompany me?”
I stare back at the ticket and swallow. “I’m not sure. How much is my presence worth to you?”
He’s smiling again. “Well, you’d have to stand next to me through the entire game.”
“I might sit, but okay. What else?”
He laughs. “You have to have fun.”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “You can’t force a person to have fun.”
“You can at least try.”
“Okay, fine. If I stand there for the whole game and try to have fun, then what do I get?”
“My company isn’t enough?”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
“Then I don’t know. A hundred bucks?”
I cringe. “I’m not your paid escort. I was thinking more like free meals for a month. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You’re buying.”
“Okay, but one week, not a month. You probably won’t even still be in Seattle in a month.”
“You have a point.” I hold out my hand, and we shake, our eyes locking until I pull my hand away with a sharp gasp. “I need to get back to work. I’m off in three hours.”
Desmond grins.