Free IMAGINES: Celebrity Encounters Starring You by Anna Todd, Blair Holden, Rachel Aukes, Ashley Winters, Leigh Ansell, Doeneseya Bates, Scarlett Drake, A. Evansley, Kevin Fanning, Ariana Godoy, Debra Goelz, Bella Higgin, Kora Huddles, Annelie Lange, E. Latimer, Bryony Leah, Jordan Lynde, Laiza Millan, Peyton Novak, C.M. Peters, Michelle Jo, Dmitri Ragano, Elizabeth A. Seibert, Rebecca Sky, Karim Soliman, Kate J. Squires, Steffanie Tan, Kassandra Tate, Katarina E. Tonks, Marcella Uva, Tango Walker, Bel Watson, Jen Wilde

pause, and she treats him with no more or less attention than probably anyone else she’s seen all day. She’s 100 percent immune, and you marvel at it, wondering what that must be like.
    “Want to have dinner with me?” he asks, holding up his hot dog and totally catching you off guard.
    You choke on the sip of soda you’ve just sucked.
    “Easy there.” He grins, squeezing his hot dog under his arm and thumping you on the back.
    “Sure” is what you say, although Are you fucking kidding me? is what you’re thinking.
    Chris Evans is either way more observant than you or he’s walked the three terminals more than once tonight, because he leads you straight to an alcove behind a half wall. It’s the sort of open area that seems purposely unfinished, like it might one day be another gate, or a coffee shop, but for now it houses a floor-size checkerboard and checkers and a fake Christmas tree. Thecolorful, twinkling lights cast a cheery glow over the short row of seating.
    Neither of you has spoken since the hot dog stand, and it’s more than a little surreal, settling into the pleather-and-steel chair beside him.
    Only, apparently, he doesn’t think so at all, because he tears into the hot dog and grunts in satisfaction. “I don’t know why hot dogs are so good. They’re absolutely disgusting if you read the ingredients.”
    “First rule of eating a hot dog is to never read the ingredients,” you quip, and the pride you feel at having articulated an entire sentence in his presence nearly levitates you from your seat.
    “I know, right?” He grins and takes a sip of his soda. You might be a little envious of the straw. “So. I feel like we should introduce ourselves. I mean”—he winks—“it’s only right. It is our first date.”
    You withhold a second choking incident by sheer force of will.
    “Wait, don’t tell me. I want to guess.” He takes another bite, eyes narrowing on your face as he chews. “Okay, I’ve got it. Daisy.”
    You know you’re grinning like an idiot, your face aches with it, and you probably have mustard on your chin and bread between your teeth, but he’s adorable and playful and all of your brain cells are irreparable mush. “Wow, you’re good,” you manage.
    He waves at himself good-naturedly. “Now me.” You can feel your left eyebrow quirk upward in disbelief, even as he laughs at your expression. “I’m serious. What’s my name?”
    So you play along, chewing slowly and taking this God-given opportunity to admire him at close range without repercussion. “George,” you finally say. “Obviously.”
    “It’s like you’re psychic.” He shakes his head, cramming the rest of his hot dog in all at once. His cheeks are squirrel-like, round and full, but it doesn’t diminish his appeal one whit.
    “WE’RE NOT IN MONTANA,” he exclaims in consternation, taking the giant checker and leapfrogging it over three of yours.
    “You don’t know that,” you reply airily. “Have you ever been to Montana?”
    “No.” He stretches his arms high overhead and you maybe have to swallow.
    You shrug and move your own checker into place. “Then this might be Montana.”
    “Jesus, woman, have you never played checkers? You can’t move there!”
    “WHAT ELSE do you have in that besides a picture of me?” He reaches for your purse.
    “I do not!” You slam the zipper shut so fast he nearly falls over laughing.
    “Come on,” he wheedles, nudging your foot with his toe. “I need carbs. Preferably chocolate.”
    “Seriously, are you a girl?” you mutter, digging around in the bottomless depths of your bag. You might have a few pieces of dark chocolate left in your emergency stash. Triumphant, you toss him a bite-size nugget.
    He grins and unwraps it. “You know what else would be good? Nacho cheese Doritos. I have the biggest craving right now.”
    “Are you messing with me?” you ask slowly.
    “Don’t tell me you don’t like Doritos,” he warns, but the