Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83358 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 7
Lucky
I pull onto Winnie’s street in my tricked-out Chevy Tahoe that cost more than some starter homes. It’s midnight black with tinted windows, custom leather seats with baseball stitching, and wheels that gleam like they were waxed by angels.
It’s fancy and expensive but it’s just a Tahoe. A vehicle that many average American men drive. I’m staying in my “average guy” lane.
Compared to what most of the other guys on the team drive—Ferraris, Lambos, a vintage Aston Martin in Penn’s case—I’m practically low budget.
I park at the curb and look at my surroundings as I get out. The house is tucked on a quiet, tree-lined street on the outskirts of Squirrel Hill—close enough to borrow the charm, far enough out that it might actually be affordable. Normally, this neighborhood leans pricey, but this street feels like a hidden pocket where the real estate gods forgot to update the listings.
Winnie’s home is a small Craftsman-style bungalow with a wide porch, mismatched flower pots, and a wind chime shaped like a sun that looks like it would make the best kind of music.
It fits what I’ve observed about her—at least online and that bit of time we had this morning. Whimsical, warm, slightly offbeat.
I take a deep breath and head up to her door. She opens it before I can even knock.
“Hey,” she says, her voice clear but her expression decidedly nervous.
I will say… she looks incredible. Jeans, boots, a green cable-knit sweater that hugs her curves in the right places and makes her eyes glow like spring. Her hair is barely past her shoulders, cut in loose layers that aren’t curly but aren’t straight either. They sort of flow this way and that in a windblown way. I note she’s wearing makeup, but it’s minimal and accentuates her features—full lips, high cheekbones and well… those eyes.
“Hey,” I echo. “You ready for your aggressively average date?”
She eyes the Tahoe. “That’s not exactly average.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, swinging my arm toward the SUV. “It’s a Chevy. Heartland of America and all that.”
She raises an eyebrow and nods. “It’s got custom rims and red calipers.”
“Whoa,” I say with a hum of appreciation and clutch at my heart. “You know cars.”
She smiles in a self-satisfied way before stepping out onto the porch. “My oldest brother Eli is into them. I’ve learned a few things along the way.”
“Well, my argument would be that compared to what some of my teammates drive, my SUV is practically a soccer mom minivan.”
Her laugh is quick and easy. After she locks her door, I offer her my arm. “My lady.”
Winnie snorts in a very unladylike way but slips her hand into the crook. “I think I’m already regretting this.”
“Too late,” I say as we traverse the sidewalk to my Tahoe. “You made a TikTok promise. And I brought more snacks.”
She freezes mid-step. “You brought snacks?”
“Glove compartment. Gushers and Peanut M&Ms.”
Her eyes widen. “Those are elite-level snacks.”
I open the door for her and she uses the running board to slide into the passenger seat. “Obviously. I may be many things, but snack selection is sacred.”
I make my way around to the driver’s side and note that Winnie is checking out the custom leather interior, the carbon fiber trim and stitched leather.
“I figured this was the happy medium,” I explain as I start the engine. “Still has power seats, though.”
She smirks. “My ten-year-old Honda has power seats. Big deal.”
“Exactly,” I say with a wink as we pull away from the curb.
“Where are we going?”
“I figured we’d start easy. Casual restaurant, best burgers in the city. Followed by some candlepin bowling.”
“Candlepin?” she asks, angling slightly toward me.
“The pins are skinnier. Balls are smaller. It’s weird and delightful. Very average-first-date energy.”
“It does indeed sound average,” she says. “I approve.”
We’re halfway to the burger joint before she finally asks what I was kind of hoping she’d bring up.
“So… are you going to TikTok this date?”
“I don’t know. Should we?”
She lifts a shoulder. “I’m not sure. I mean… I put this challenge out there for my followers to go on the journey with me. I envisioned me giving a summary at the end of each date, but you’re well known on the platform, so it’s not like it’s odd for you.”
“I’m cool with it if you are,” I say, and then an idea strikes. “How about we both sit down together after the date and tell everyone how it went?”
Her head turns my way, eyes illuminated by the dashboard lights and sparkling with interest. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“We can take video during the date, if you want,” I suggest. “I know to most people that would be weird, but for two elite TikTokers like us, it’s just a normal day.” Winnie laughs and I love the rich huskiness of her voice. “Except let’s agree no weird editing, no thirst-trap clips, unless you want a slo-mo of me bowling. I’d be okay with that and might even flex a forearm muscle for you.”