Appeal Denied

49: Protective Order

June 29, 2018

My mouth gapes at the man in front of me wearing mom jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and an unbuttoned denim shirt that looks like it came from a tractor supply store instead of the expensive brand I know it to be.

"Something you want to tell me, Butterfly Boy?"

"Hmmmm?" he asks, and I gesture at the outfit.

"I thought you were a fashion icon," I giggle.

"Ohhhhhh," he smiles, "I wracked my brain trying to come up with what I thought might be a perfect date for us, and I've settled on someplace that will likely allow us to be in public without getting papped."

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow at his confidence, "And how will you ensure that?"

"We're going to the Chi-Town Hot Sauce Expo," he proudly announces, gathering items and putting them in a tote bag that advertises SoulCycle.

"We're going where? And what are you putting in there?" I query, standing on my tiptoes so I can see into the bag as I sip my coffee.

"It'll be fun, Brains. I've got sunscreen and water bottles. They have to be sealed or they won't let us take them inside. Oh, and sunglasses." He slides these on his face, completing his look with a Chicago Bulls baseball cap.

"Ummmm...." I want to laugh, but he's right. It's unlikely anyone would guess he's a world famous pop star in this outfit. "Am I dressed acceptably?" I twirl to show off my outfit of denim cut-offs and a tank top, paired with my plain white sneakers.

Resting his chin on his hand, he examines me, signaling for me to spin yet again. When I do, he shakes his head. "Almost. Just a minute."

With that, he disappears upstairs. Reappearing, he tosses down a button-up Hawaiian patterned blue shirt with palm trees and waves on it. "Wear that," he chides.

"Worried I'll get sunburned?" I tease.

"Nope. Worried some guy is going to steal you away from me. You look entirely too hot in that outfit. And I don't mean temperature-wise," he unabashedly admits.

Surprised, I whirl to him after I pull on the second sleeve. "Are you seriously worried?"

He rolls his eyes. "Duh. After the incident with....uh...what was his name? Karl? I'm not even remotely secure."

My heart wrenches. He'd been jealous. That had been clear at the time with his actions. But even now, he's insecure? This won't do at all. I spend the car ride contemplating how to address this situation, and when we arrive at Toyota Park, I'm no closer to an answer.

We arrive just in time for the Slaytanic Burrito Challenge where a dozen contestants attempt to be the first to down a burrito with some of the hottest peppers known to man. There's one female competitor, so I decide to cheer her on as Harry becomes the champion for a gentleman wearing a Green Bay Packers t-shirt. I roll my eyes at my Butterfly Boy. When an unexpected winner emerges, a disappointed Harry and I wander to some of the booths, sampling a few of the milder hot sauces. It seems we're both averse to heavy spice.

He holds my hand as we move among the vendors, and I'm on cloud nine. I spot a few men who look my way, examining Harry as though he were the inferior one, and I laugh out loud because they have no clue. Not that I'm less than Harry, but that he's so much more than they see.

THIS. This is what I have wanted with Harry for ages, and I am unsettled at the idea of fan photos for two reasons. One, this time together is private and ours. It feels sacred and stolen. Two, I'm worried about Harry's reaction when we are publicly photographed together. It was his biggest fear when we were "under contract", so it's only natural for me to worry about how he will react. When (not if) it happens, I would prefer we're in control of the situation as much as possible.