Chapter 14: Meal Mate

Americans rarely eat fish with bones due to the hassle, and when they do, it's usually fish cakes or fried fillets. This makes Andrew cringe. The essence of eating fish lies in its tenderness. Frying it just ruins the experience.

Thibodeau was one of those who preferred fried fish—more like chicken in texture—but he didn't particularly care either way. However, after his first bite of the Chinese-style fish, his eyes lit up.

"Is this what fish can taste like?" he thought, marveling at the spicy, tangy burst of flavors. The fish was incredibly tender, a far cry from the greasy, flavorless fillets he was used to.

Andrew noticed Thibodeau's expression and chuckled. "Another foreigner falling under the spell of Chinese cuisine," he thought.

"Be careful of the bones though," Andrew reminded with a grin.

Thibodeau nodded, too engrossed in the flavors to respond. Soon, he was trying every dish on the table, his eyes lighting up with each new taste.

Watching the 48-year-old coach act like a curious kid discovering a new world, Andrew couldn't help but laugh. Thibodeau's hands barely paused between bites.

Halfway through, Andrew called for some beer, and seeing his assistant coach enjoying himself so much, he poured him a glass. The two men clinked their bottles together, both amused by the situation.

After a while, Andrew excused himself to go to the restroom. When he finished, as he was washing his hands, he noticed a woman next to him, also washing up. He did a double take in the mirror.

It wasn't because she was just any pretty woman—it was because she looked familiar.

Younger than he remembered, but unmistakably, it was her—Taylor Swift.

Andrew had always enjoyed Swift's music, but he certainly didn't expect to run into her here, in this random restaurant. At the time, she was only 17, on the verge of releasing her debut album.

Swift caught Andrew's gaze in the mirror and raised an eyebrow, puzzled by his staring.

Not one to hold back, Andrew turned and smiled. "Hey, are you Taylor Swift?"

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. She wasn't used to being recognized yet.

"I've heard your song, Tim McGraw. It's always on my playlist," Andrew said.

Swift was shocked. That was her first and only single at the moment. She never expected some random guy—let alone a Chinese guy—to know her music.

She smiled shyly and nodded.

Andrew continued, "You've got talent. I bet you'll be a huge star by next year."

Swift blushed slightly at the compliment. "Thank you," she said softly.

Andrew nodded and was about to walk away when he heard her call out, "Wait!"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"Would you like an autograph?" she asked, her face flushed with a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Andrew froze for a second. It wasn't every day a star offered you an autograph. He chuckled at the situation—Taylor Swift asking him for permission to sign something.

"Well, I didn't exactly bring anything to sign," Andrew said, looking around.

"No problem, I have a pen!" Swift said eagerly, rummaging through her purse. But after a moment of digging, she frowned. "No paper, though."

Andrew laughed. "Here, you can sign this," he said, pulling out his small tactical notebook from his jacket pocket—a habit he'd carried over from his coaching days.

Swift's eyes widened again when she opened the notebook and saw it filled with team strategies and basketball notes. "Just sign on the first page," Andrew said with a grin.

She nodded, scribbling her name down on the top of the page. As she handed it back, Andrew couldn't help but smile. "This might be your first-ever autograph," he thought.

"You're a basketball coach, right?" Swift asked, glancing at the tactics in the notebook.

"Yeah, I coach in the NBA," Andrew replied casually.

Her eyes sparkled with interest. "I usually go to games with my brother, Austin. We're big basketball fans!"

Andrew smiled. "Well, then, I guess we might run into each other again."

They chatted for a few more minutes, talking about basketball and Swift's love for Chinese food—particularly light dishes like fan scallops and kung pao chicken. It was easy, casual, and enjoyable.

Eventually, Andrew had to return to the table. They exchanged contact info before parting ways.

Back at the table, Thibodeau was still happily devouring the food. Andrew chuckled to himself, looking down at the notebook in his hand, now adorned with Taylor Swift's signature.

As Andrew picked up his beer, Thibodeau suddenly said in a very serious tone, "You should get married soon. You're not getting any younger."

Andrew nearly spit out his drink.

Thibodeau continued, "That girl just now? Looked good. My son was already a father of two by the time he was your age."

Andrew coughed. "She's a singer—and six years younger than me," he muttered.

"Age is just a number. My wife's eight years younger than me," Thibodeau said with a grin.

Andrew stared at him in disbelief. He didn't expect the stoic, no-nonsense coach to have such a romantic streak.

As he looked at Thibodeau's red, flushed face, Andrew realized—this wasn't just the food talking. The beer had kicked in. 

For the first time in a while, Andrew felt the warmth of genuine friendship as he raised his glass again. Tonight had been a whirlwind, but the camaraderie—and the unexpected signature—made it all the more unforgettable.