I didn’t hold anything against him.
I’d see the man I’d known, give him his message, and then go back to my life. Maybe I’d see him again in another decade, and maybe I wouldn’t. It’d be easier to accept and think about this time around, at least.
I headed toward a sliding door near a breakfast nook that led outside, noticing that it kept being opened and closed as partygoers came in and out. I wasn’t going to wonder if Zac was in a bedroom or not unless I absolutely had to. As I was going around two people who happened to be coming back inside at the same time I was going out, the sound of laughter had me turning. Spotting him.
I almost did a double take.
On a lounger, flanked between two women, was a man I had seen on television about an hour ago when the commentators had been discussing his career. From a starting quarterback for a baby franchise to… well, who the hell knew what now. My cousin’s best friend. My old friend.
I visually sucked up the man I hadn’t seen in person in forever as I made my way over, scooting through and around groups of people who weren’t paying me any attention. There had always been… something about Zac. Something there wasn’t exactly a word for that was part his good looks, but mostly something inside of him that drew a person in—that drew people in. Something almost magnetic, and I could tell it was still alive and well even from a distance.
That was one of the things that made him an ideal quarterback.
That and his huge heart.
At least I’d thought that in the past.
Zac’s signature cowboy hat hid what I knew was dark blond hair shot through with strands of auburn and a little brown. One of the last few times I’d seen him live on TV, it had been pretty long. I caught a slice of a bright white smile—a smile I knew constantly lingered on his face—as he talked to one of the women sitting beside him. His long legs were stretched out in front of him, covered in jeans like always. Even when we’d been kids, I couldn’t remember him ever being in shorts unless he’d been at the pool in long, baggy swim trunks that Boogie had always been trying to yank down.
I smiled at a couple of people who caught my eye as I picked my way through the crowd hanging around the patio, and luckily no one grabbed me and asked if I was lost or was in the wrong place.
Nerves made my stomach feel a little weird, but I ignored them. This was Zac. I had known him—known of him—for more than half my life. He had sent me Christmas presents for a while. I loved him, and he had loved me for a long time. He was best friends with the man who had been better than a brother to me.
So what if Zac was some big-shot famous football player?
So what if he had been on the cover of magazines?
Or been the face of a football franchise?
So what if one of the last times I’d seen him in person, his girlfriend at the time had crushed my precious, fragile self-esteem into tiny little pieces with her fake-ass smile and harsh words? I wasn’t seventeen anymore. I didn’t weigh my self-value against other people’s opinions.
And really, more than any other question, so what if he hadn’t responded to any of my calls or texts for years? I was over that, and I had been for a long time. I didn’t resent him for being busy.
I rubbed my sweaty fingers against each other and pressed my lips together as I kept on going.
The pretty blonde sitting on his right was the first one to look up at me, and luckily, she smiled. The brunette on his left didn’t. She didn’t really make any kind of facial expression, but there was something in her eyes that I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know was more like what are you looking at, bitch? Pssh. Like that was intimidating. You didn’t know scary until you read what people thought about you on the internet.
It wasn’t until my feet stopped in front of the three of them that the cowboy hat tipped up and a pair of light blue eyes, such a pure soft blue that they could have almost been called baby blue, landed on me, making their way to my face and staying there.
He watched me, still smiling that smile I’d seen a million times that was all mischief and good humor. At least he wasn’t devastated by what had happened with his former team, right? That was good. Then again, I’d seen him smile when I’d known he was devastated. That was just what he did.
It took me a second, but I smiled back at him, just a little thing, wiggling four fingers at him that I was pretty sure he didn’t notice because his gaze didn’t move anywhere below my neck.
And the first thing I said to a man who had carried me around on his shoulders, who had given me rides around my abuela’s neighborhood on the handlebars of his bike, was “Hi, Zac.”
And no, no, that wasn’t freaking bittersweetness creeping up my throat.
He blinked again, and he kept on smiling as he drawled in a voice that had gotten deeper over the years, “How’s it goin’?” Casual and friendly like always. Just like fucking Zac.
I went up to the balls of my feet, keeping my gaze right on a face that, in person, I could see how much it had matured. The softness that had been there before, that had been all boyish and cute, had mostly disappeared, leaving a leaner structure with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. Fine little lines bracketed down and along his mouth. He was thirty-four
