Page 122 of Only in Your Dreams

Zac’s brows shoot up. “Me?”

“You,” Noah confirms. “I could have my agent there, obviously, but it would be nice to have someone who doesn’t look at me and see dollar signs. I know sometimes they like to meet the family, but that’s… you know. Out of the question for me.”

“Oh.”

Beside me, Zac looks stunned by the suggestion. These are the moments when I can’t fathom leaving Oakwood Bay. Of leaving Zac and the utterly wholesome way he still doesn’t see how much he means to people like Noah. To Brooks, who found work with Zac’s encouragement.

To me, who—despite having barely ticked anything off the playbook Zac had me write—hasn’t felt this content in…

Probably since high school. When I could fool myself into believing those looks Zac would give me meant he felt what I’d felt for him, and I hadn’t yet gone out into the world and disappointed myself by living under someone’s thumb.

That’s supremely sad, right? But it’s better late than never.

Zac clears his throat, but his voice comes out all gruff, anyway. “Of course, I’ll come with you,” he tells Noah.

“You really want to?”

“If you want me to meet scouts with you, then I can’t think of somewhere I’d rather be tonight.”

Oh God. Zac’s eyes go a little pink around the rims. Across the table, Noah’s gaze floats to a point far above our heads. He blinks rapidly.

“Thanks, Zac. That means a lot, you know.”

Oh my God, this has to be the most wholesome thing I’ve ever witnessed. Zac clears his throat again, and they’re both avoiding each other’s eye, trying desperately not to tear up.

Don’t do it, I tell myself.Don’t ruin this moment—

The clicking sound of a camera breaks the delicate silence, and they both whip around to find me, phone in hand, held up to capture them both in the frame.

“I’m sorry. Please carry on,” I say, staring proudly at the photo of them having a moment. “In a second this’ll pass, and you’ll both start bickering again. I really couldn’t help myself.”

You know what’s funny?

Almost two months ago, I stared at my senior year vision board, thinking I achieved nothing I’d dreamed of at eighteen. The job, the apartment in the city.

The little family of my own.

Maybe it’s unconventional and kind of ambiguous. But staring at this photo, with the sounds of Zac and Noah’s renewed bickering in the background, I don’t feel so far off from it anymore.

Chapter 31

Zac

“Cut down the middle—cut down the middle, for fuck’s sake!”

In true Brooks fashion, the words are muttered under his breath as we watch practice unfold from the sideline. He’ll stand here with me, rambling about which player should be doing what and who deserves to be benched until he gets the play right. His assessment is almost always spot on. But as much as I appreciate his desire to be everyone’s best friend, that leaves me to deliver the hard feedback back to the team while he assumes the role of perpetual cheerleader.

I wouldn’t say Brooks was made to coach. He belongs out on an NFL field, with other players of his caliber. But every time I’ve broached the subject of a comeback, it’s clear his injury—coupled with a fear of mounting a failed return—hangs over him like a dark cloud.

He turns to me, crossing his arms over his chest. “You gotta tell them to—”

“Cut down the middle. I got it.” I shove my fingers through my hair. “You know, this good cop, bad cop act is starting to get old, man—”

“Who… Isn’t that Mike Irving?”

“Hm?” I look up to see Brooks squinting at something over my shoulder.

Behind me, the first thing I catch sight of is Harry—my boss, the bane of my existence—staring out at the field, apparently having been taking in the practice for who-knows how long. He hasn’t called me in for his usual decimating chats in weeks. Like the rest of town, his tune shifted with our first win of the season. Doesn’t mean I trust him worth shit, though.

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