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Chapter One

Joe

It’s a Thursday evening in early August, and I’m sitting by myself in what Google says is the second-best bar for Minnesota Vikings fans in Madison, Wisconsin, right in the middle of Green Bay Packers land. There’s an almost full pitcher of beer before me, and I’m expecting my ex-brother-in-law, Lance, to finally show up and help me drink it.

Lance and I were tight back when we were together in college in Minnesota, and afterward, while I was married to his sister Kim. Now he lives with his family in Milwaukee, an hour and a half away. I wouldn’t mind making the short drive to see him, but since Kim and I separated three years ago, things have changed between Lance and me.

It’s been months since I saw him last, so I was happy when he texted that he’d be in town today and asked if we could grab a beer and catch the game. I invited him to my place, but he said no, that he preferred to go out.

Which is why I’m here, at Hops & Curds, ten minutes into the first game of the preseason that hints the Vikings might have a rough year ahead, drinking alone at a high bar table and wondering where the hell Lance is.

I take a sip of my beer and lean back. I’ve been to this establishment a few times since I moved to town right after the split. It’s a typical sports bar, all wood and athletic paraphernalia. They serve cheese curds, burgers, and wings, and have a variety of beers on tap. The place is slowly filling up, and while there’s a Vikings hat here or a jersey there, most people are dressed in normal clothes and don’t appear to be here for the game.

But one person definitely is. I noticed her when she passed me by on her way to an empty table in the corner. She sat down and ordered a glass of beer, and I watched her push all the other chairs toward adjacent tables, making it seem like there were no places to sit beside her. I guess she doesn’t want to be disturbed.

She’s wearing a purple Vikings sweatshirt with the Norseman face and even has the hood on, although she must be boiling in it. With her face in a scowl, she’s sending serious “fuck off” vibes, which for some reason makes me smile, and I can’t stop glancing her way. Most of her hair is tucked under the hood, but I see a little up front, and it looks light brown and silky and very shiny. I noticed she was tall when she walked by, but I couldn’t tell much about her shape, since she’s dressed for complete body camouflage in that giant sweatshirt. She has a round face with beautiful clear skin, pale and lightly freckled, with a warm, inviting glow.

I watch her more than I watch the football.

She seems really into the game. Her face is quite expressive, and she jumps off her seat at a few exciting plays, fists punching the air.

I don’t think she’s noticed me, which is probably for the best. I’m not even sure why I keep looking at her when I’m here to meet Lance and, in any case, it’s been years since I last hit on someone at a bar. I’ve lost whatever little game I had long ago.

By the end of the first quarter, the bar has gotten quite full. There are people at every table and two have already approached me to ask if they could borrow my chairs. I’ve given away all but one, which I keep saving for Lance.

Several groups hang around the entryway, so I’m not surprised when the server finally stops by.

“Is your friend coming?” the server asks.

“Last I heard, he is. He’s just running late,” I reply.

“If not, maybe you would be more comfortable at the bar,” he says flatly. “We’re really busy today, and we have several larger parties waiting for a table.” He nods toward the door, where the crowds are standing.

“I see,” I reply. “Give me five minutes, all right?”

He nods and leaves.

I send Lance another text. “Is everything okay? Are you coming?”

I wait for a couple of minutes, but no dots appear. I’m getting worried. I hope nothing bad happened.

Some of the people at the door are now shooting daggers at me. I look to the side, where the mystery Vikings fan woman does something on her phone, since it’s the break between quarters. The server stops by to talk to her, too. I can’t hear them, but her face hardens, so I’m guessing she’s just received the same “comfortable at the bar” suggestion I did.

A lightbulb goes on in my mind, and I feel a surge of bravery unlike anything I’ve felt since I was young and stupid.

I drink up, grab my chair and tuck it under my arm, then collect the pitcher and my now empty glass, and traverse the short distance between my table and the woman’s. As I approach, our eyes meet and it’s one of those moments that people talk about in books, when the rest of the world slows down and quiets, and suddenly it’s just her and me—alone in the world, suspended in time.

It feels as if I’m watching her in slow motion, surprise and confusion crossing her face, but then her nostrils flare and her lips slightly open, and there’s an unmistakable flash of heat in her eyes—

She quickly collects herself and brings back the scowl, but it’s too late, I’ve seen the glimmer of interest, and there’s no way I’m backing off now, not when we’ve been connected from the very first look we shared, before we’ve even said a word to one another.

I set my empty glass and my nearly full pitcher on her table, then put my chair down, and I say, “Hi, I’m Joe. Please save us both from having to sit at the bar.”??

Chapter Two

Liz

He looks like a fucking god.