“And you made it into the NFL.”
Until Zebb, Immaculate Academy had never had someone play for a national-level football team. I didn’t follow sports much. I only knew he’d made it big. He’d gone where he wanted to go. He’d taken the Tennessee Wildcats to the Super Bowl two years in a row. He’d lived his dream.
Back when we were kids, we didn’t talk much about the future, but we shared our desires. He wanted fame and fortune. I wanted a simple life, moving to a small town, and owning my own business. I also wanted a real family, but an eighteen-year-old girl doesn’t tell her summer fling such a thing.
Turning his head, Zebb squints off to the side. “It wasn’t meant to last forever. I’ve been back for a while as well.”
The city was so vast it wasn’t shocking I hadn’t run into him over the years. We wouldn’t have traveled in the same circles anyway. I didn’t have a circle. I had Ashford’s.
When Zebb doesn’t offer details to his return, silence falls between us. There are only so many sentences that encapsulate two decades of history and exhaustion hits me as well as the cold. I’ve rezipped my jacket and tucked my hands into my pockets, but an endless chill ripples over my skin.
“I think I better cut out.” I nod at the dwindling collection of people outside. I haven’t spoken to another person the entire time although people have passed Zebb, patting him on the shoulder, offering him a handshake. He still has a charismatic persona, drawing people to him like a magnet. Surprisingly, his attention always returned back to me standing beside him.
“Don’t go yet.” Zebb has moved closer to me, leaning his side against the fence. His chest has been pressing against my arm.
“I have to work.”
“Not tomorrow,” he chuckles.
Thanksgiving is another holiday I don’t celebrate, but I don’t mention it.
Instead, I softly smile at him.No, tomorrow I have other plans. “It was great seeing you, Zebb.”
He pouts but presses off the side of the fence. “How did you get here?”
“I Uber-ed.”
“I’ll walk you out, then.” He wraps his arm through mine and tugs my hand from my pockets. “Where are your mittens? Your fingers are freezing.”
I laugh at his fatherly voice. “It’s cold outside.” I don’t know how he hasn’t noticed while wearing only a flannel shirt.
“All the more reason to stay,” he singsongs and wiggles his brows.
“Is this about to turn into a Christmas song?”
His expression shifts. “You know that song is not what people have made it out to be. It’s a classic. He really did want her to stay.”
“But he spiked her drink.”
“Maybe it was only Fireball.” He winks at me.
Shaking my head, I agree with him but express my forward-thinking thoughts. “Everyone brings their own experiences to that song.”
Like I have experiences with Christmas as the reason I loathe the most wonderful time of the year.Insert sarcasm.
With Zebb holding my hand, we easily walk through the less crowded rooms and stand outside on the curb. I’ve pulled up the Uber app and ordered a ride.
“Well,myexperience is I really want you to stay.” He rubs his thick thumb over my knuckles. Lifting my hand, he wraps both his palms around mine and blows on my cold skin in the cavern he’s made. Another shiver ripples over me but it has nothing to do with the temperature.
“And I really must go,” I sing back to him and then we both laugh.
“I remember your laugh.” The corner of his mouth quirks up.
“I remember yours.” Suddenly, I’m filled with melancholy as we speak of an action that represents joy and a long-ago history between us. We stare at one another, but I can’t read his eyes like I did when I was eighteen. When I recognized a look before he kissed me. Or the awe before he slid into me.
How strange it is to encounter someone who once had carnal knowledge of your body. Knew where to touch you and how to please you, and you learned the same things about him.
Time and distance changes everything. Our experience now is two strangers.