I wasn’t positive they would in the first place, but I was prepared. Just yesterday, I’d walked into work after lunch to see that the commentators on TSN were talking about him trying out for a team in San Diego.
I was overjoyed for him and for his next shot.
And I still felt really, really guilty that I hadn’t just told him about my Lazy Baker business on my own. He hadn’t said another word about it as we’d walked to where I’d parked my car. Instead, all he’d done was keep laughing about my question regarding tape and his nuts, and then he’d given me a big hug and invited me back over to his house. I had things I needed to do and declined though.
He’d texted me twice since, which had honestly still surprised the shit out of me. But he hadn’t mentioned anything about another workout.
The first text had been:
512-555-0199: Saw your almond cake video. Is it as good as it looked? And was that Maw Maw’s flamingo you had on?
It had made me smile… and made me a little nauseous. Him watching my videos was nice, but it made me feel self-conscious. Really self-conscious.
I’d texted him back that the cake was really good—the recipe was going in my book—and that if I had time, maybe I’d make him some the next time we saw each other. I also confirmed that the flamingo pendant I’d had pinned to my apron had belonged to his grandma.
He hadn’t texted me back after that.
Two days later, I got another message.
512-555-0199: Paw-Paw told me to tell you thank you for his puzzle and card. Said to call him when you get a chance.
The text had come through while I had been busy at work, and I’d forgotten to text him back. But I had called Paw-Paw on my way home from work the day after that, and I’d heard Zac in the background telling him to tell me hi. Apparently, he’d gone back to Liberty Hill.
And that had been the last I’d heard from him. At least until yesterday when the news of his workout was reported.
So now all I knew was that he was in San Diego, hopefully getting another shot. Chances were, he wouldn’t be coming back to Houston if things worked out. And that was good. It was great. The preseason was set to begin in about a week. It was crunch time for everyone. He needed to sign with someone, and he had to do it soon. I wanted that for him, even if it meant… well, whatever it meant. That we wouldn’t see each other again for a while.
No pressure on him or anything. It was just his whole life hanging in the balance of a workout—a tryout, whatever it was called.
“What the fuck are they going to do now?” the voice of one of the members snapped me out of my memory of the day before.
I glanced at the guy with his back to me before plastering a smile on my face as a totally different member came in through the doors, scanning her pass with a quick, “Hey, Bianca” that I managed to return, distractedly.
After that, I glanced at the digital clock on the wall. I didn’t know what time his workout was supposed to start, but….
I hesitated for a second… thinking about it… then decided just to go for it. I peeked around the gym, making sure Gunner wasn’t visible, and then pulled my phone out from underneath the keyboard. It only took a second to type up a text.
Then I deleted it and wrote another one.
He had come over. He had apologized. He had asked enough questions about my past to seem genuine. For some strange reason, he’d asked me to take him to the dealership instead of his manager or his roommate or one of his hundreds of friends in Houston.
Friends were supportive, and I really did want to try and do better, at least this one last time.
Especially since, from the way things had gone the day I’d taken him to the dealership, I wasn’t the only one who thought our friendship was like riding a bike. Some things were easy. And there were some people in life that you just… clicked with if you had the chance. It just so happened that Zac was one of the most likable people I’d ever met. I just wouldn’t forget that he got along with everyone.