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 now, after all.
And he was even more handsome than he’d been as a teenager or as a twenty-something, especially when he was smiling the way he was right then. Crooked. Still easygoing and friendly. Big Texas personified.
He was welcome.
“Hey,” I told him carefully, still watching his striking, tan face. “It’s me.”
Me. Twenty-seven, not seventeen. My hair was long and down. When I’d been younger, it had always been up because I hadn’t known what to do with my curls other than straighten it. I wore makeup now too. Plucked my eyebrows. Lost some weight. But I was still me.
His smile widened a little more, but I could tell, I could just tell….
“Bianca,” I said, going up to the balls of my feet again.
Zac blinked and still….
I looked from one of his eyes to the other, taking in the color that was still so rich, and realized… he didn’t recognize me. He didn’t… remember? Or, if he did, then he didn’t give a shit.
There was no hug. No “Bianca! Holy shit! It’s been so long! I’m so happy to see you! What are you doing here?”