“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me.”

“Your name?” I repeated, hoping it was my imagination that my voice faltered.“Call me Patch. I mean it. Call me”

“You can call me Patch. No really. Call me.”

“My arms hurt from how tightly Patch held me. “Now that’s what I call a scream,” he said, grinning at me.”

“Nora: What are you planning?Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.”

“You want me to list characteristics of a … ?”“Potential mate, yes, that would be helpful..."Without meaning to, I looked sideways at Patch. He was eased back in his seat, one notch above a slouch, studying me with satisfaction. He flashed his pirate smile and mouthed, We’re waiting.I stacked my hands on the table, hoping I lookedmore composed than I felt. “I’ve never thought about it before.”“Well, think fast.”“Could you call on someone else first?”Coach gestured impatiently to my left. “You’re up, Patch.”Unlike me, Patch spoke with confidence. He had himself positioned so his body was angled slightly toward mine, our knees mere inches apart.“Intelligent. Attractive. Vulnerable”

“I’m going to grab a cheeseburger,” I told Patch. “Want anything?”“Nothing on the menu.”I smiled. “Why, Patch, are you flirting with me?”