Total pages in book: 191
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Lord, he was making me work for it. “About…?”
This is none of your business. This is none of your business. This is none—
I saw his hesitation, saw the way his eyes flicked to the side for a split second, and saw as that blond-and-ash-brown-dusted jaw did this weird little grind, but he answered me anyway. “They’re worried I’m too old.”
Too old?
He made a sound I didn’t know what to think of. “I’m not done yet. Least I don’t feel like I am. There’re other things…. It’s just been other shit with the head coach in Oklahoma. We got off on bad terms. We weren’t clickin’.”
Ohhh.
“But not everyone gets it or sees it that way. It wasn’t the right place for me.” He buried those long fingers through his hair, flipping those multicolored strands back, away from his forehead. “Now… I’m here. Trevor and my agent think other teams would rather get someone young,” Zac finished. “Somebody to build a team around and all that.”
I blinked, tapped the handle of the spoon against my nose, and I stared at him. At that Disney prince nose and the silhouette of his mouth and the rest of his handsome face….
What in the hell was wrong with him?
“They’re concerned because you aren’t ‘young’ anymore? They think other teams wouldn’t want you because you’re old? And decrepit?” I mean… he was asking for it, wasn’t he?
He blinked. Zac’s bottom lip dropped into a literal gape, and he sat up straight on my couch. Offended. Or maybe it was hurt? Shocked?
Jesus, help me. Maybe all three.
“I’m only thirty-four,” he basically said in a tone that might have hurt my feelings a decade ago. Eyes wider than usual, or at least what I considered “usual” based off the faces I usually saw him rocking on camera. Yep, he was insulted. “Why are you makin’ it sound like I’m in a walker?”
I blinked again, fighting like freaking hell to keep from laughing, because he really was making this way too easy. Way too easy. And way too fun, even though he’d lost his mind with his retiring talk. “I’m just working off what you said.”
His mouth was still open a little as his eyebrows knit together, 100 percent offended/shocked/hurt.
But not sad at least.
So I couldn’t help it. I snorted. “Hey, you’re the one throwing yourself a pity party for one. It felt like an invitation. You’re the one implying you’re an old man and all that.” All right. And there we were with us going back to young Bianca who had treated Zac just like Boogie, teasing and messing around and normal.
But he deserved it. He was asking for it.
I hadn’t exactly planned on jumping right into it, but old habits die hard. And there were worse things in the world to do than picking on Zac Travis when he was being dramatic. I could be on drugs.
Zac blinked again, thinking. I could tell he was freaking thinking.
And then, then, I looked at him with an expression that said you’re an idiot. Because that was younger Bianca too. Okay, and teenage and adult Bianca, especially around people I trusted and felt extra comfortable with.
My heart was on a different page from my brain, and that was okay.
Then and only then did his mouth curl up. Then he shook his head with a laugh that sounded like it surprised him. “All right, all right. You made your point, kiddo. I’m not old. I know I’m not. Other teams might feel that way, but I don’t feel like it. That’s what I was tryin’ to say. I’m not done yet.”
“You’re not that old,” I clarified, trying to goad him out of his little world a little more, inch by inch.
“No. I ain’t old period.” He gave me a side-look that had his cheek twitching. “Not really.”
But it was too late. We were too in this now, and this was too familiar. Too easy. “You’re sure you can still handle throwing a ball a few feet?”
He laughed, and it was light and awesome, and I couldn’t have expected how glad that made me. “A few feet?”
My response was to shrug at him.
That lopsided smile of his released itself into the world. “I don’t remember you bein’ this much of a pest.”
“I don’t remember you being such a negative little Nancy.” I spooned some more beans and greens onto my spoon before adding, “Seventeen-year-old Zac would be telling Old Fart Zac right now that he should quit crying because some people might not believe in him. You remember how much grief people gave you in college? How they told you that you were too skinny back then? Young Zac would tell you to suck it up and take advantage of every opportunity you’re given, even if that means going back to being second string again. Or third string. Who knows, maybe one of these young bucks will get hurt and they’ll call you and ask you to take over. Just saying.