“Can I get you to autograph this napkin, man?” asked the frat guy behind Tallulah. “No,” Sig replied, without missing a beat. Chloe’s lips pressed into a line for a tense second, but she brightened almost just as quickly. “It’s okay.” She smiled sweetly at the frat guy. “I’ll write my number on it, instead.” Sig snorted and crossed his arms. Until the guy happily produced a pen, extending it toward Chloe. The hockey player intercepted it. “Fine, an autograph. You want it personalized?”
