Nerves tightened my smile. “Harvey probably hooks you up with the good stuff, but I figured a few loaves would be good for sandwiches. I got tuna for him, and I think you used to eat PB&J during our breaks, so I put in those fixings too.”
“Ahhh, thank you.” She threw her arms around me and squeezed. Up close, she smelled like fresh-baked cookies. Vanilla, maybe. She didn’t just grip me for half a second and let go to look at the stuff, she actually hugged me. “You’re so thoughtful and sweet,” she said.
No one ever used those words to describe me. Maybe her family had rubbed off on me. Or maybe I’d always been a softie. I probably hadn’t been hanging out with anyone who saw past a pretty face and designer labels until this family walked into my life. They seemed to welcome my general being.
Well, almost all of it.
I still wasn’t sure about the feet thing. But Shelby was dating a guy with tattoos and piercings. Somehow, I knewshewouldn’t think less of me.
I tightened our hug. “Thank you for being so kind to me. Happy house-warming, Shelby.”
First, she got to live with a tight-knit family, and then, she had Zack and friends. When a new lease came up, she’d live with Harvey, assuming they were still good on that front. A ‘realist’ would predict her and Harvey’s honeymoon phase would have to end at some point, but the more I got to know Zack and his family, the more I believed in happy endings.
“I’ll give you the tour.” Shelby smiled and led me through the living room. A ratty old leather couch faced a three-piece band set instead of a TV.
“Is the band playing tonight?” I asked.
“Kind of.” She chuckled.
What did that mean? One instrument stand was empty.
I glanced around. “Where’s Zack’s guitar?”
“His room. Wanna see?” She wagged her brows with impish delight.
I shrugged. “N-no rush. I’m here for the full tour.”
Zack hadn’t come out yet, so I assumed he was still gussying up.
Shelby waltzed into the adjacent section of the house. “M’kay, well, this is the kitchen. Help yourself to anything.” She hummed a tune and emptied the tote bag on the counter.
The table was surprisingly bare for a party. No chips? Cupcakes? Sodas, beer, or wine?
I put the bread in the cupboard, where all the good stuff seemed to be. “Do you need help setting up?”
“No, I’ll get the rest later.” She flashed me a nervous smile, then gestured for me to follow her. “As you can see, we have four doors adjacent to the living room. This one is the bathroom.”
I peered inside at a bright fish shower curtain and full toothbrush holder. “Do you all share one bathroom or is there another?”
“It’s shared.” She sighed. “At least some of the guys shower at the gym, so it’s not too crowded in the mornings. We all have weird schedules, anyway. So far, the only thing I have to hide is my good shampoo,” she said.
“Hell yes. Don’t let them waste that luxury on their armpits. You do you.” The shower wasn’t super wet or steamy, though, so Zack must’ve already been clean. Why was he taking so long to greet me?
My gaze slid past the small storage mirror. “I just remember getting grounded because I took too long to do my hair and makeup in the mornings. With your party princess business, I figured you’d need regular access to a mirror.”
“I’m thinking of bringing my vanity mirror from home. I’m not sure it’ll fit, though. Tell me what you think.” She skipped a few steps down the hall, but the strum of a guitar pulled my attention to another room. The door was cracked open. Rosy light and a familiar tune beckoned me closer.
“That’s Stylin’ Myles,” I said.
She nodded. "In Zack's room."
Were we hallucinating? He wouldn’t learn some pretty boy's pop hits just for me.
I walked into the shoebox-sized room. Light strands draped over the singular window, bathing everything in a soft pink glow. Zack propped his heel against the edge of the bed and caressed his guitar. The beat strummed through my heart.
He’d dressed up for this. For me.
He wore a vintage tee and corduroy pants just a little too tight on the seam. Something like mousse fluffed up the front of his hair, though he still managed to have that casual Americana vibeabout him. A rock star. A pop prince. My quarterback was so many glorious things. And now, he was mine.
