I didn’t know why I was still thinking about her. We’d exchanged only a handful of words, and I didn’t know a single thing about her other than the fact she could pay for her own dry cleaning and that she didn’t like “handing out private information to strangers.” My mouth curved at the memory. I didn’t wish for much outside the realm of football, but I’d give up one of my cars to see her again. Maybe. Possibly. Definitely.
