“You okay?” I went right out there and asked, taking in his strong, tan face.

He really did still look like some kind of fairy-tale prince.

A fairy-tale prince who a lot of women wanted to do dirty, dirty things to, according to some of the comments on his Picturegram posts. I’d read some of them after his TSN Anatomy Issue had come out—the one with his naked butt cheeks on it—and woo-wee. I thought I liked dirty shit. Not compared to some people.

“Apart from feeling like a shit about what I did, sure, honey,” he answered back, bringing me back to the moment, those baby blue eyes locking on me as he lifted the glass and took a sip out of it.

I mean… if he wanted to feel terrible….

I didn’t miss the way he glanced down at it before he took another sip and licked those cotton candy pink lips. “Is this water delicious or am I imagining it?”

Of course he was going to make this hard.

I snorted, and that earned me half a smile from a handsome face. “It is. It’s a reverse osmosis machine-thing. It filters everything out.”

That blue gaze flicked back down to the glass. “You gotta write the name down for me,” he said after taking another sip, and I’d swear on my life he smacked his lips a little. “This is good stuff, Peewee.”

Talking about water filters was fine and safe. That worked for me. “I will. It’s worth every penny.”

“How much was it?”

I’d lied to everybody else about the price, but… I’d seen pictures of his last car. What car he drove now, I had no idea. You’d figure the same one, but some of the MMA guys at the gym bought a new car like every three months for shits and giggles. You never knew. Plus, I could only imagine how much money he probably spent feeding himself, or more like having other people feed him. “Three hundred bucks, but I can get you a discount code.” He didn’t need to know I had a discount code I promoted all the time that the company had given me. I kept the water filter on the counter so it could be seen in just about every video I shot. Publicity wasn’t free. For a long time, I’d stopped including sponsors—people who paid me to advertise their products—in my videos. I was trying to make up for it now.

“Did you say three hundred dollars?” the freaking millionaire penny-pincher choked on his sip.

I gave him my back as I turned around with a snort that I hadn’t been expecting ten minutes ago, or an hour ago, or five years ago.

This man had been my friend despite our age gap. He had cared for me. I knew that, for a long time, he had loved me.

And that was why his distance had hurt me so bad.

But, even after all this time and… everything, he was still the same cheapskate who waited six months to replace his car window because “the tape is working fine.”

And so I surprised myself when I muttered, “You can afford it,” like I would have if we’d stayed friends.

If we’d stayed friends.

I needed to stop and just… take this for what it was. I really did. A quick, friendly visit like mine was supposed to have been. We were reconnecting.

“Jesus H. Christ,” Zac croaked, making me focus on him. “For three hundred bucks, I’ll drink out of the hose,” he claimed, even as I heard him taking another sip.

I grabbed my can opener, shaking my head as I hooked it onto one of the cans I needed. I could do this. I could talk to him like I would any friendly person who came into the gym. I wasn’t shy. I never had been.

I could do this for the people I loved.

“You live here by yourself?” Zac asked.

“Yeah.” He didn’t need to know the whole story. I opened one of the cans of cannellini beans, the word here bouncing around in my head some more. “I really liked the kitchen,” I explained, like that would mean something to him. For a split second, I wondered if CJ had mentioned my WatchTube channel to him, but it wasn’t like it mattered. I wasn’t going to bring it up.

Unless he asked, I guessed.

“It sure is a nice kitchen.”

“For what I’m paying, it should be.” Peeking over my shoulder, I didn’t have to force myself to smile at my old friend who was sitting there with his elbows on the counter and his chin resting on one palm, those light blue eyes on me, striking against his handsome and—now that I really got a good look at it—tired face.

Had he not been sleeping? Or was he just tired and stressed? I hadn’t heard a word about what was going on with his career since that first day.

One corner of that cute mouth went up, reminding me again of the boy I had known and loved who had always been nothing but kind and good to me… until he’d basically disappeared. “No roommate?”

“No,” I explained as I dumped the beans into a strainer and moved toward the sink to rinse them. “This is the first time I’ve lived by myself, but I like it.” I cleared my throat, wanting to change the subject. “Your roommate, CJ, seemed nice.”

“Yeah, he’s a good guy.” It was Zac’s turn to blow out a breath that he didn’t even try and muffle even though I had my back to him. “I’m so damn sorry I left you hanging, Peewee,” my old friend said unexpectedly, direct and to the point, in a clear voice that managed to sound genuinely apologetic.

I could do this.

“It’s okay,” I started to say, turning back around to him. He was shaking his head. The lines at his eyes creased deeply as he frowned.

“No, it ain’t. It was a real dick thing, darlin’, and I’m sorry as hell. Mama would’ve tanned my hide for doin’ that to anybody, but especially to you. I was on the phone with my agent. I got in trouble for ignorin’ his calls there for a while, when I was in Liberty Hill, and he got all bent out of shape. It’s no excuse, but I’m sorry I couldn’t get off the phone with him sooner,” Zac said in a rush of words, like he had to get it out. “I already had Trevor breathin’ down my neck, and I couldn’t put my agent off much longer anymore.”

He’d gotten in trouble? Because his agent was trying to get him on a new team or something and he hadn’t been answering his calls? Or what?

He kept on going, showing more and more pieces of the boy-man who had earned my loyalty and love so long ago. “Will you forgive your old Snack Pack?” he asked in that Zac way that was all sugar and earnestness and that smile that could slay a dragon as he glanced up at me from beneath his eyelashes.

My old Snack Pack.

Ah, shit.

He wasn’t done either. “Next time, you can listen to me gettin’ reamed, if you want. My agent’s a pro, and Trev’s real good at it too. He could teach some classes on rippin’ folks new ones when they’re already down.”

I blinked again.

I’d never been the type of person who held crazy grudges. Even Connie let go of things pretty quick. It was probably our parents’ fault, honestly. Their soft hearts were the reason why they were good doctors. Our grandma, on the other hand, had remembered everything and didn’t let you forget it.

But everything about that long body here at my apartment, because he was so tall and all of his muscles were as endless and ripped as his bones were, seemed apologetic and honest. Sincere. Those eyes of his were kind and real.