Page 175 of For the Fans

“What would you like to eat, gorgeous thing?” I kneel next to him on the couch while swiping through DoorDash. “Burgers, tacos… Ooh myGod, this place makes the best fried chicken…”

“Avi, can wepleaseeat something healthy?” he whines. “I have a massively important game next week. I don’t want to be weighed down by all the junk food I consume when I’m with you.”

“Weighed down??” I huff a baffled chuckle. “Your body is fucking insane, Kyran. You’re probably like, what… seven percent body fat?” He frowns at me, and I blink. “I’m sorry… Is that too much?”

“Forme, yes,” he grunts. “I need to be in prime shape for this game. No fucking around.”

“Okay, well, we did just spend eighteen hours burning tons of calories, so I think you’ll be fine.” I smirk, and he returns the look with one of faux amusement.

“Just no fast food or excessive trans fats, please.” He curls himself around me, dropping kisses all over my neck. “For me?”

“Fine,” I grumble. “You see what I do for you?? What doyouwant to eat, babe?”

“Mmm… Sushi?”

I make a face, but I concede… because they do have those delicious fried pork dumplings.I could just order, like, fifty of those.

“Sushi it is, for my chiseled man and all eight of his friends.” I poke each one of his abs, and he growls, slapping my hand away.

“You joke, but sushi actually has a lot of starch,” he points out, and I just stare blankly at him. “From the rice…”

“Ah,the rice,” I tease, and he chuckles, play smacking me on the jaw.

Then I smack him back. And this goes on for minutes before I finally call a truce so I can order his damn sushi.

“Can we not watch this?” I complain some more, propped with my back against the arm of the couch while he lies between my legs, playing with my hands. “It’s boring. I’m sure MTV is running episodes ofCatfishon a loop…”

When he doesn’t answer me, I peer down to where he’s gazing at my palm, running his fingertip along the center.

“I have this line too,” he whispers. “Except mine curves around here… Like the way Comm Ave runs up over campus.”

I give him a puzzled look, but he doesn’t notice it. Because he’s too busy studying the lines on my palm.

“Do you read palms or something?” I ask, bemused. “Because that would be very uncharacteristic of you.”

His eyes flit to mine, and he tilts his head as if he’s considering whether or not to tell me something. He smiles shyly, scooting up farther between my legs.

“Promise not to make fun of me?” His lashes flutter, and he bites his lip.

I’m barely breathing right now. “I promise.”

Lifting his hand, he turns his palm to face me. “Sometimes I do this thing where I imagine the lines on my palm are streets I know. See? Like this one can be 93, or the Pike.” He drags his fingertip up a line, then points to another. “This one is Hyland. See here, how it splits off like College Ave over by Davis Square? And you can follow it into Cambridge…”

The way his eyes are sort of lit up over this has me reeling.

I’m not sure why, when, or how he ever started doing this, but it’s safe to say I’m completely mesmerized by it. And by the mere fact that he’s sharing it with me…

This strange little quirk, this peculiar, fully adorable vulnerability that I’m almost positive he’s never shared with anyone before.

I can’t even find words to speak, and my silence must trip him up, because he glances at me, unease framing his hazel eyes. “I’m a total weirdo, right? It’s okay, you can just say it…”

“Oh…” I shake my head, grabbing him by the wrists before he can squirm away in humiliation. “Ohh no, no, no. This is so very bad… Is superstar quarterback Kyran Harborcute??” I gasp, and his visible dread retreats, a small smile tugging at his lips. “This is going to make it virtuallyimpossiblefor me to ever hate you again!”

His grin widens while I kiss both of his palms. But he bites it away, forcing one of his scowls. “I’m sure if you try real hard, you can find your way back there.”

“Nope. Please don’t grouch all over this new image I have of you,” I hum, and he chuckles, trying to rip his hands away. But I won’t let him. “Seriously, this is detrimental, Kyran. If you’re not careful, you might just weasel your way out of enemy territory and into the land of friends.”

Slowly releasing my grip, I lower his hands onto my chest, and he takes one of mine back, drawing more lines over my palm.