“Paw-Paw,” Ms. Travis groaned from her spot beside him. She had a temporary tattoo on her cheek with Zac’s number 4 on it, and his jersey on under her jacket.

The older man put his hands palm down on his chest, covering the White Oaks logo of the thick jacket he had on. “I did say it. I’m not lyin’. The last time Zac came by and he told us all about Bianca, didn’t I say it again?”

She blew out a breath and glanced at me with a faint smile. “You did.”

Oh man. I hadn’t even thought about being quiet or telling Paw-Paw or Ms. Travis about… us—not when it was just yesterday that he’d said anything.

Maybe Zac had wanted to tell them? Maybe… he didn’t want them to know?

Nah.

Well, too late now anyway.

Folding my hands together, I looked up at both of them with hope in my heart. “Are you both okay with me and Zac seeing each other?”

“You’re going to be doing more than seeing each other,” my fucking sister scoffed under her breath as she pretended to look toward the field, but I didn’t take my eyes away from the two Travis family members. I kicked her in the leg instead.

“Yes,” Ms. Travis confirmed, that faint smile turning into a fierce one. “I need help keepin’ that boy in line. I hope you’re up for it.”

I was up for it, and I told her so with a laugh.

A second later, my phone vibrated from inside of my pocket, and I took it out, wondering who would be texting me. Deepa?

The name on the screen had me freezing.

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: You make it?

I smiled down at my screen.

Me: Yes. Paw-Paw and your mom are behind us.

Me: Connie glued a mustache to my face, by the way.

I got a response almost immediately.

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: A mustache??

Me: A blue one. I think Trevor might have done the sign of the cross when he saw it.

It showed he was typing up a reply before I’d even hit Send on my second text.

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: I’ve always had a thing for mustaches

I laughed.

Me: You’re in for a treat then. It’s a good one.

Me: Also, you’re going to do great today. I’m so proud of you and so is everyone else.

I almost expected not to get a reply from him, but my phone vibrated after about a minute with a new text.

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: In that case, I’m gonna try even harder not to let you all down.

My heart squeezed.

Me: You could never let us down. And even if you don’t win and the team doesn’t go to the playoffs, you’re still invited to go to Disney World with me once I reschedule my trip.

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: You’re only supposed to go there if you win it all.

Me: You’re winning just by being where you are right now.

The typing icon stayed on the screen for almost a minute before I got another text.

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: You right.

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: Follow Trev after the game, okay?

ZAC THE SNACK PACK: Love you kiddo

“Love you, kiddo,” he said like he’d said it a hundred times before.

Which he had.

But I read it in his text then. The difference. I wasn’t sure how I could ever explain the nuance, but it was there, as different as day and night.

He loved me. Me. And he meant it.

I thought about that until he was running out onto the field with his teammates—some of whom were my friends now too—to play another big, important game that most commentators had going in favor of the Three Hundreds because they’d had a slightly better season.

Zac was too nice to ever rub anybody’s face into anything—well, most of the time—but I hoped they cried silent tears when the White Oaks won.

I stood there in the stands with my cousin on one side, and my sister and Richard on the other, and Zac’s Paw-Paw, mom, and manager directly behind me, cheering just as hard as everyone in the stadium as the game prepared to start. And we stood like that for a long time.

For the entire game.

Because it was stressful as hell. The Three Hundreds were out to prove a point. Unfortunately for them, so were the White Oaks.

For three quarters, the teams were tied nearly neck and neck. The Three Hundreds would score and then the White Oaks would do the same. Every fan in the stadium screamed at the field over tackles and fumbles and interceptions.

And then, with less than fifty-five seconds left on the clock, Zac and Amari did it.

They scored.

They had won.

THEY WON.

And just about everyone went apeshit.

Boogie and I hugged, and I know for sure that Connie and I held each other as we jumped up and down. Richard and I grabbed each other by the shoulders and yelled in each other’s faces so loud the earplugs I’d slipped on at the start of the game didn’t do much. I hugged Paw-Paw and Ms. Travis too. He had tears in his eyes, and she was crying, so I hugged them again.

It was then that Trevor grabbed me by the wrist and made a face to tell me to follow him. I pointed at the Travis family, but Paw-Paw waved me off to go alone. Trev led me through a maze of people, around a barricade, down some stairs, and through a checkpoint as White Oaks fans were going insane at their win.

It was one step closer to the playoffs.

“Bianca!” a voice yelled from around the security guard.

It was Zac, holding his helmet in one hand as one player after another walked by him, slapping him on the shoulder, hooting and yelling as they went down the dark tunnel that we had approached. His face was pink, and his hair was matted to his head, but he looked happy and alive and amazing.

What I would remember for the rest of my life was meeting him halfway and how he held me with his arms banded right under my butt after he pulled me into them, grinning so wide as I hugged him and kissed his cheeks and his mouth and his cheeks some more.

“I knew you were going to do it! I fucking knew you were going to do it!” I told him, pressing my mouth against his damp ear so that I wouldn’t have to yell in his face from the deafening noise of the fans still going crazy.

He pulled back a little and smiled at me, the biggest smile to date, probably ever in existence. His hand moved, and he palmed my cheek as his gaze traveled over my painted face, that perfect grin still there. All for me.

“How do I look?”

He drew the pad of his finger over my fake mustache. “Like the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

And then he kissed me again.

Hours later, after he’d had to let me go—after kissing my face a bunch more times even though I warned him about my face paint bleeding—and after one interview after another, Zac celebrated with his team in the locker room while the rest of us headed over to Trevor’s. The Travis family, Connie and Richard, and Boogie waited for him there. We ate food that Trev had ordered and scarfed down celebratory cake. CJ went out with some of the other players on the team, but Zac didn’t.

It wasn’t until after Connie headed back to her hotel and Boogie had decided to drive back to Austin so he wouldn’t leave Lauren alone for longer than necessary, that Zac grabbed my hand and asked if I wanted to go look at something with him. His mom and grandpa just smiled and waved us along.

I held up my promise and said yes.

Nothing could have prepared me for the three-and-a-half-hour drive that led us awfully close to Liberty Hill. I hadn’t even realized how long we’d been in the car because we’d been too busy talking about the game and how incredible it had gone and all the other little things that had been said in the locker room before and afterward.