“Yeah,” I agreed carefully. “There are very few people who really matter, and you get to choose them, so you might as well be picky. I wasn’t picky enough… and look what happened to me. I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to monopolize your time or anything.”
“You’re not.” The long, strong muscles of his thighs flexed as he slid the bottoms of his soles up along the top of the mattress. “If I tell you somethin’, you promise not to say nothin’ to anybody?”
“Pinky swear,” I told him instantly.
His face was even and serious as he said, “My contract with the White Oaks just came in. It’s official.”
His contract? “Shut up.”
Zac nodded, seriously, knitting his fingers together and setting them on his lap, his expression going straight toward the TV. His shoulders hitched up high, and I watched him roll them back with a deep sigh. “Yeah. My agent texted me while we were still at the party that it was comin’. I just got it right now while you were showerin’. One year. Part of me wasn’t expectin’ it to actually still come through. Can’t be stayin’ up anymore.”
“No, you can’t,” I agreed before reaching for his arm, pulling his hand toward my face, and pressing the back of it against my cheek. “I’m so happy for you!” I cheered, snuggling his hand since a hug was out of the question because of my boobs.
And if he wondered why I didn’t just hug him instead of clutching his hand to my face and then giving it a peck, he didn’t say a word. His gaze slid toward mine though, a little apprehensive—I knew his features too well to not recognize what the hell I was looking at—but I was pretty sure there was more excitement in there too than not. “Yeah, I’m excited, but… we’ll see what happens. I’m not startin’, but I’ll take it.”
We’ll see what happens? “It’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself, but if anyone can do it, you can,” I told him, still clutching his hand with both of mine. “I’m so happy for you. I won’t say anything to anybody. But I’m so, so, so happy. You’re going to be incredible. Hopefully the other guy plays like shit and you’ll get to start, but even if he doesn’t, you’re still going to be there, waiting, and that’s all that matters. You know how many guys would kill to have that opportunity?”
One corner of his mouth went up, and it was sweet and reluctant. “I’m gonna wait to tell Mama and Paw-Paw tomorrow. They’re announcin’ it come Monday.” He paused. “I hate keepin’ secrets.”
“Keeping secrets does suck, but it’s okay. I think everyone will understand. I know I do.” And I couldn’t believe he actually told me.
Could I?
His blue eyes moved toward me. “What kind of secrets do you have, kiddo?”
I swallowed and lowered his hand away from my face. “A few of them.”
His palm turned, and his long fingers wrapped around mine gently, giving them a light squeeze. “Like what?”
“Well, it’s not a secret if I tell you, is it?” I snorted and drew my hand back to scratch at my cheek even though I didn’t need to.
He smiled. “But you’re only tellin’ me.”
“So it isn’t a secret if I just tell you?”
“You tell Connie secrets, don’t you?”
I nodded. “I tell her almost everything.”
“Tell me somethin’ then.”
“You tell me something first.”
His mouth went flat, but he got a squinty, thoughtful look on his face. “I almost went to school in Oklahoma instead of Austin. I’ve never told anybody that.”
“No,” I gasped.
He nodded and held up his thumb and index finger apart about an inch. “Came this close. I can’t remember anymore why I almost went there instead, but it did almost happen.”
“Who are you?” I whispered, imagining the devastation Paw-Paw might have felt if he’d done that. He might have cried.
But Zac chuckled deep. “Okay, your turn.”
I scratched my nose. “A secret of mine?”
He dipped his chin.
I had to think about it. “I don’t really have secrets that are mine. More like, I know other stuff about other people.” That was partially a lie but also kind of the truth.
“Nah, I want one of yours.”
“My God, you’re a nosey son of a bitch.”
That got me another deep, throaty laugh that made me smile. “Think of somethin’. A good one.”
What…?
I had to think about it.
“It’s not really a secret, but… I think you’ve got really cute butt cheeks?” I offered. “It’s like a perfect little peach butt. It was the best one in the magazine.”
His smile was playful and smug. “That’s not a secret, but thank you. That’s why they put it on the cover.”
I laughed. “Conceited much?”
Zac grinned. “Only a little. Tell me a real secret, ’cause I’m not gonna forget.”
A real one? That was hard. There was one I could think of that I definitely didn’t want to share, but what else was there?
I knew it.
Before my brain could catch up with my big damn mouth, I told him the only thing I thought might make him gasp in surprise. Because, and I would tell myself this later so that I wouldn’t be embarrassed, it wasn’t a big deal. It was a reminder of a life from a long time ago, when I’d been a kid. “I used to have the biggest crush on you when I was a teenager.”
Well, I’d done it. There was no going back now.
I got kind of the reaction I’d been expecting. A little bit.
He made a confused face. “You did?”
I nodded, making sure to look him in the eye so that it wouldn’t be something really that bad. Nothing could be that bad if you didn’t have to hide from it. “Yeah. Huge. Just for like a year…” I hesitated. “Or two, but yeah. I thought you were pretty much perfect. I’m glad you didn’t know. You would have been all sweet and understanding about it, and that would have been worse.” It was time to change the subject. “What other secrets you got?”
He ignored my question. “When?”
Damn it. “Did I like you? When I was a teenager, I told you. Now what other secrets do you have?”
He continued to ignore me. “But when? I never noticed.”
“Oh, not that far back. Hold your horses. When I was like sixteen.” I eyed his serious face and smiled. “Seventeen and eighteen too, maybe?” I shrugged. “You gave me a big hug and a kiss, and it all went downhill from there for a while after that. It was a well-kept secret, I guess.”
Well, until I realized that mooning over someone like Zac was never going to mean anything because I was me and he was him, and I wasn’t anywhere near being his type. I might have wished upon a star and every birthday candle I’d had for those couple of years, hoping and wishing and dreaming of the possibility that one day he would look at me and see me. See that I loved him and that I didn’t care about him being some hotshot football player. That I liked him. His humor, his kindness, his love.