Julia squirmed as her friends’ words sank in. Her heart twisted. Just a few days ago she’d wondered at the possibilities. Tried to imagine where things might end up between her and Luke by Sunday. Now it was Friday, and so much had already changed; more than she ever could have imagined. What would happen in a few more days when the game was over?

“Don’t worry about me,” Andie said, bravado in full force. “Julia’s the one with the lovesick string bean serenading her. It’s not like Curt is going to suddenly show up and pull some over-the-top romantic shtick like that.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Something in Kat’s voice caught Julia’s attention. She glanced up. “I don’t believe it.” The timing couldn’t have been more perfect. Like a stroke of divine rom-com intervention, Curt was there, skirting the other prep tables as he made his way toward theirs.

“Oh my God.” Andie paled. “You don’t think he’s going to sing, do you?”

Julia noticed the stack of large white poster boards he was carrying. “I don’t think that’s his plan.”

Sure enough, when Curt came to a halt in front of Andie, he didn’t sing. In fact, he didn’t speak at all. Instead, he held up his stack of poster board. A message was scrawled across the top one in black marker.

Andie read the sign aloud. “To me you are perfect.” She snorted. “That’s not very original of you, Curt.”

“At least give the man points for trying,” Kat said. “I don’t see Zach doing anything like this.”

“Yeah, give the lovesick butter bean a chance,” Julia encouraged.

“Butter bean?” Andie’s brow furrowed for a moment, then she grinned. “I see what you did there. Fine.” She blew out a sigh. “If you can listen to your string bean sing, I can read my butter bean’s notecards.” She waved her hand, indicating Curt should continue.

He eagerly flipped through several more messages, and Andie continued to read them out loud. Soon, his stack had dwindled, the floor around his feet littered with posters.

“Will you … Be my…” Andie paused, squinting at the new message. “Eno … suld?”

“I think that one’s upside down,” Julia offered helpfully.

Curt glanced at the board and grimaced. He fumbled around, hurrying to adjust it.

“Oh!” Andie exclaimed, rereading. “Plus one.”

He nodded, shuffling through the discarded posters on the floor. He picked one up and showed it again.

I’m not a perfect man. Julia smiled softly as she read it to herself. Maybe not, Curt. But you’re perfectly imperfect.

“All right, Curt,” Andie declared. “Yes. I’ll be your plus-one.”

He beamed and held up the last card. It had doodles of stick people cheering. Julia looked closer and giggled. He’d drawn them in Packers jerseys.