One Shots with Chris Evans

Angelica ~ part 2

I grab a quick bite at the bistro next door to the lot. Putting pen to paper I do my best to try and remember all the answers that I can so that I can begin working on the article. I won't get the actual recordings until after the premiere tonight but at least this way I can get a jump start.

"Soup in this weather?" I hear from behind me. If it wasn't for the fact that I'd just recently heard that same voice two hours earlier I'd question whether or not he was speaking to me.

"Best broccoli and cheddar soup on the West Coast," I tell Chris with a small smile, bringing the spoon to my lips once more, softly blowing against the hot liquid. I see him watching my lips as the air causes ripples over the spoon.

He pulls out the chair in front of me, not waiting for an invitation. One that he wouldn't be getting from me anyway. "I pegged you more for a salad girl," he teases. "Especially with how hot it is outside." He fiddles with his muscle tank, adjusting it against his chest.

"Sorry to disappoint, but to me soup can be eaten year round."

"Ya ever try chowder?" I look at him closely.

"Like corn chowder?" I ask, pulling off a piece of my bread bowl, dunking it into the cheddar soup.

He scoffs, laughing like that was an outrageous question. "No, not corn chowder. Clam chowder."

"Yeah, but I wasn't really a fan," I admit.

His hands slap the table in front of him. "What? Seriously?" I nod vigorously, surprised by his reaction. "You must not have had it made by the right person. Where'd you have it?"

"South Carolina actually."

The look he gives me is as if I've wounded his dog, or thrown away his favorite ball cap. "Nah. Nah. You gotta come to Boston and have it. We're famous for it. Oh and Lobster Rolls."

"Lobster, on a sandwich?" I ask, finding the thought of such a high price food being turned into a sub roll.

"Yeah!" he insists. "You've had lobster before right?"

I don't jump out right away with my answer as the waitress brings a seafood salad, sitting it right in front of him. "Watching your figure, Mr. Evans?" I tease.

He slows his actions of stabbing his fork through the food, smirking and shaking his head ever so slightly. He clears his throat before taking a bite. "Is this on the record or off?"

My brow immediately shoots up. "Which do you prefer?" I leave it open for him to decide.

"My trainer would kill me, so I'd like this off the record." I give him a nod, wishing him to continue. He leans in a little closer, waving me in as well. "I may or may not have indulged in an incredible cheeseburger last night."

My eyes grow in surprise. "Is that so bad though? Oh, wait. Did you have fries too? That would certainly make it worse."

He nods his answer. "Fries and then some banana pudding too."

"Oh, Mr. Evans. Your trainer would have your tail," I joke, trying to hide my laughter over a grown man admitting to enjoying some french fries and good old pudding.

The alarm from my cell goes off causing me to grab it up quickly before it disturbs too many patrons enjoying a quiet lunch. I motion for a to-go container since I did not get to finish my meal, figuring I can eat on it a little more once I reach my next stop in this whirlwind of a day. "Heading out?" he asks, almost timidly. "You never did tell me what you were hiding back in that interview."

I lower my face, hiding the heat that I feel rising through my chest and up my neck, as I remember the inappropriate thought that almost slipped right through my lips. "I think I'll be keeping that one to myself." I grab my meal along with my check before heading to check out at the hostess station.