I whipped around and clutched my phone to my chest. “Cassandra. Don’t scare me like that. I almost had a heart attack.”
“Is Andre still grumpy?” Eyes wide, she sipped her extra-large iced coffee from The Bern, the mall’s hipster haven where Harvey worked. “Maybe I should hide this in the stacks so he doesn’t see. I can warn you if he’s coming.” She loudly tip-toed to the shoe window and peered out. “Whoops, someone’s waiting.”
“I can get it in a second.” I just had to send a normal heart emoji, but the idea of it exploding again unnerved me. Thumbs up was too noncommittal. There was a hand emoji with thepointer and pinky fingers up…that meant ‘rock on,’ right? I’d seen people do it before concerts. I sent that instead of my heart.
Crisis averted.
26
Practice
I’d always imagined Zack would live in some kind of frat house with shoddy siding and a decent porch, surrounded by guys who walked around in muscle shirts and boxer shorts on lazy Sundays. They’d drink beer and play video games, maybe set up a competitive dart or ping-pong area.
But his home, or at least the place he sent me to, was disarmingly tame. A few snowcapped hedges lined up under simple, framed windows. It looked like any one of the small, single-family houses on the street I grew up on. We could’ve been neighbors. It shouldn’t have been surprising, considering we went to the same high school, and yet it was still surreal to me.
I tugged my cropped, studded, leather jacket tighter around my chest and clomped past cars in the driveway to the sidewinding walkway. It snowed last night, so he must’ve shoveled early this morning. That was nice of him. It was probably his early-morning workout, some kind of gentlemen’s duty.
I rapped my knuckles on the white door and waited. There were no interior noises, no music, nothing indicating a rock band or human was present. An old-school doorbell beckoned me on the right of the door frame. I wasn’t touching that. It was way too intrusive. Instead, I texted Zack.
I stuck my hands under my arms and shivered. How long was he going to keep me waiting? I shuffled sideways to peer through the window. All I could make out was wood flooring, a few miscellaneous cleaning supplies, and a long, somewhat yellowed, flowery rug. Not my first guess for his interior welcome mat.
A door smacked open, and Zack’s voice thundered through the walls. “Coming.”
I stuck my phone in my pocket and tried to look unaffected.
He thrust the door open, warmth from inside rushing out to envelop me. He panted out, “Hey.” His lip ticked up as his gaze raked my outfit. “I didn’t realize it was Halloween.”
I smacked his arm and pushed my way inside. “You told me to be ready to rock.”
“I didn’t mean literally.” He chuckled, closing the door behind me.
The weather was cold enough without comments like that on an outfit I’d painstakingly put together. I glared at him and brushed off my stitched sleeves. “Well, thanks for leaving me out there to freeze.”
“Who told you to wear a metal-infused jacket in the snow? This thing could cause an injury.” He jokingly punched at the studs and my back.
My stomach fluttered. “You are so annoying.” I pawed back at him, the two of us batting at each other’s clothes like kittens trying to get attention. It was fun. Almost flirting. To footballers, though, this was probably just playful roughhousing.
He flipped up my collar. “You know, you didn’t have to dress up just to hang with me.”
Oh, did he think I was being inauthentic again? I smoothed the collar down and scuffed my boots on the rug to get rid of any snow. “Yeah, well, I figured since we’re filming…”
“Right.” He tugged his ear and glanced down the hall. “I’ll take you downstairs to officially meet the band. Oh, and, uh, they know about us, so don’t worry about that.”
I grabbed his wrist in a panic. “Wait, do theyknow, or do they think they know?”
He furrowed his brow and glanced up. “They think they know,” he said slowly.
“Okay. So, if they’re your friends, I should try to make a good impression. We can use them as practice for meeting your fam.” I rearranged my clothes and hair, ducking to catch my reflection in a nearby, low-hanging mirror.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” Zack took my hand and warmed my raw, frozen fingers. “If anyone gives you attitude, you can throw your jacket at them.”
“Only if I can’t find any lemons,” I joked.
We grinned at each other, my heart swooping along with my stomach as we descended into a dimly lit basement. Low chatter between his bandmates made my pulse race with nerves I hadn’t experienced since my first college mixer. For some stupid reason, I wanted these people to like me. Maybe this jacket was too much. They’d probably think I was a desperate fangirl, especially after I cheered at their last gig.
