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“Your house was always so fun,” I said.
“Was it? I just remember it being loud.”
“It was, but that was what I loved about it. You had this big, boisterous family and there was always something going on. It was so different from my house.”
“What was yours like?”
“Quieter. It was fine, I just didn’t have other kids around.”
“My poor parents had more kids than they knew what to do with.”
“You guys weren’t that bad.”
“We were pretty bad.” Zachary glanced away. “Especially me.”
“You did get in trouble a lot, didn’t you?”
He chuckled. “All the time. I kinda still do.”
I didn’t know why that admission made me smile, but it did. He was so endearing when he wasn’t showing off.
“Like when you hit Cory Wilcox in the Timberbeast?”
“He had that coming. You didn’t hear what he was saying to his girlfriend.”
“Is that why you hit him?”
“Yeah. What did you think, I picked a fight for no reason?”
“I just didn’t know. I was too far away to see what was happening.”
“He was treating her like garbage. As far as I’m concerned, he deserved it.”
I didn’t want to condone a fist fight, but there was something slightly—dare I say it—gentlemanly about Zachary. At least in the way he stood up for people. I’d seen him do it before. Although he tended to rush in without thinking, his heart was in the right place.
“What did Garrett do after you guys left?”
“He took me home.”
“That’s good. I was a little worried he’d arrest you.”
“You and me both,” he said with a grin, then glanced at my empty plate. “More pizza, or are you ready for ice cream?”
“I think I’m ready for ice cream.”
“Let’s do this.”
I followed him into the kitchen and put our dishes in the sink while he started scooping ice cream. We bumped elbows and the brush of contact was electrifying. It made my breath catch in my throat, but he didn’t seem to react at all. Just kept scooping ice cream into a bowl.
And that was what I wanted. I’d told him we were hanging out as friends. This wasn’t supposed to be date-like at all. He was simply respecting my wishes.
Which made me want more accidental contact.
What was wrong with me?
He handed me a bowl of ice cream and I took it to the couch, firmly telling myself to keep my distance. Whatever my hormones were doing, it had nothing to do with my head—or my heart.
Zachary was dangerous. I couldn’t forget that.
