Me: I was screamingcasually.
Jacks: Is that even a thing?
Me: It is now. I invented it.
Jacks: Groundbreaking. See you in a few, not-so-casual screamer.
I grinned at my phone likean idiot.
This had become a pattern. Jacks would text, I would smile, and the weird buzzing feeling in my chest would intensify. I’d stopped trying to analyze it. It was just how things were now.
The drive to Seminole Heights took about twenty minutes. The neighborhood was exactly what Jacks had promised: eclectic and a little rough around the edges, the kind of place where trendy coffee shops sat next to auto repair garages and nobody seemed to mind.
I almost drove past the restaurant.
Because it wasn’t a restaurant.
It was a bus.
A literal bus painted bright yellow and red with “TACO BUS” emblazoned across the side in letters that looked like they’d been designed by someone who survived an apocalypse on tequila and enthusiasm. The windows had been replaced with service counters, and a hand-painted menu board listed items in both English and Spanish.
And that wasn’t even the best part.
A second bus sat about twenty feet away, connected to the first by a makeshift outdoor seating area with mismatched picnic tables and sun-bleached umbrellas. As I watched, a server emerged from the kitchen bus carrying two plates. He walked across the gravel lot in the January sunshineand delivered the food to a table of customers who looked like they did this every Sunday.
My inner child did a backflip.
I found parking on the street and spotted Jacks leaning against a wooden post near the outdoor seating area, scrolling through his phone. He looked up when I approached, and his face split into that easy grin I was starting to associate with the feeling of coming home.
“All hail the conquering hero,” he said. “Should I bow? Wreath your brow in laurel? Request an autograph?”
“Please don’t. My ego’s already inflated from last night.” I gestured at the buses, unable to contain my glee. “Dude. This place is literally a bus.”
“Two buses, technically.”
“Two buses! And they have to walk outside to bring you food!”
“Welcome to Tampa’s finest dining establishment.”
“This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen a lot with my travel schedule.” I was grinning like a maniac, but I didn’t care. “Why did no one tell me this existed?”
“Because you hang out in fancy downtown restaurants with cloth napkins and wine lists.” Jacks pushed off from the post. “This is where the realmagic happens.”
I watched another server make the journey between buses, balancing a tray loaded with plastic baskets of tacos and what looked like the biggest burrito I’d ever seen. The whole setup was beyond absurd and the kind of thing I never would have found on my own.
“I love this place,” I said. “I love everything about it.”
“Wait until you taste the food.” Jacks nodded toward the ordering window. “Come on. Let me introduce you to the bestcarnitasof your life.”
“Bold claim.”
“I don’t make claims I can’t back up.”
We walked to the kitchen bus, where a woman in a flour-dusted apron was taking orders through a window that had once been an emergency exit. The menu above her head was a chaotic masterpiece of hand-lettered items, daily specials, and what appeared to be customer reviews written on the board in Sharpie.
“Jacks!” The woman’s face lit up. “Haven’t seen you in weeks. You taco cheating on me?”
“Rosa, you know you’re my one and only.” Jacks laughed, and the sunlight brightened. “Just been busy with the bar and all.”
