My eyes widen as I look at her phone. Zane Warren. Yes, I do know the name. He was all over the news my freshman year because he was picked for his school’s Varsity team when he was only fifteen. Now he’s a senior, just like me. And sure, your average person wouldn’t know a thing about high school football players who are set to turn pro one day, but my family knows. My mom runs the largest mum store in the state and my dad is a junior high football coach. His dream is to coach high school but Brazos High’s current coaches aren’t going anywhere any time soon.
“Zane Warren just movedhere?” I say, still dumbfounded by the news. “Why would he switch high schools during senior year?”
She shrugs. “I only heard part of the conversation before I ran up here to tell you.”
“Conversation?”
“Dad and I saw the new neighbors moving in so we walked over to say hi. The second Zane’s dad introduced himself, our dad was like holy crap. They’re probably still out there talking. I barely said hi to Zane though because he was helping his mom move in furniture.”
“So it’s really him?” I ask, giving her phone back.
“Yep!” She bounces up and down. “Your status as queen just got even cooler. You’ll be forever memorialized as the homecoming queen to a future pro ball player!”
She grins widely at me. “You’re so lucky, Zara. I got paired with freaking Brian Lundy who tore his ACL freshman year at A&M and then never did anything worthwhile.” She rolls her eyes. “Ugh.”
I can’t believe she’s in college and still cares about this crap. My whole family may be obsessed with football, but I’m just stuck with it. I don’t really care about the sport or the title of queen. This is just some silly tradition I was born into and expected to continue for my family’s legacy.
My phone alarm goes off, reminding me that it’s time to go walk Mrs. Sally’s dog. “Dog walking time,” I say, tugging on my shoes and grabbing my sunglasses. “Feel free to finish up my poster for me.”
Jackie snorts because school assignments are so not her thing and follows me out of my bedroom. “I can’t believe my baby sister will have such an epic homecoming. Zara and Zane,” she says, holding out her hands as if she’s reading our names from a banner. “Hey, your names sound cool together! Both Z names. Ironic, huh?”
“Sure,” I say as I head downstairs and toward the backdoor.
“You should go next door and say hi,” Jackie says, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I roll my eyes. “No, thanks.”
“You’re going outside anyway!” she whines.
“In the opposite direction.”
I slip out the backdoor while my sister keeps rambling on about how I should go say hello to my new “king”. Luckily I don’t need to see him to walk Mrs. Sally’s dog. Our street backs up to a large empty field, so everyone has backyard fences with gates. Instead of going out the front door and walking on the sidewalk, I like to slip out the back and go into Mrs. Sally’s back yard to get her dog, Fluffy. Then we walk along the grass field behind our houses and I toss his ball for him to catch. Out of all my dog walking clients, he’s the most rambunctious. It’s just safer to keep him back here where there’s no car traffic to get in the way.
Fluffy is a white and black shepherd mix who is two years old and has the energy of about ten dogs all in one dog body. He’s so excited to see me each day that he ends up tripping over his own feet as he runs up to me. We head out into the field and I throw his ball as far as I can, then watch him run to get it and bring it back to me. I toss the ball over and over again until this silly goofball gets tired. Then we sit on the grass and hang out while I give him some water from my water bottle.
The creaking sound of a wooden gate opening catches my attention. I glance over my shoulder, expecting to see my sister, only our gate is closed. The gate next to it is open.
Zane Warren walks out casually, surveying the field. He looks to the left and then to the right, where our eyes meet. He nods once, giving me a friendly smile. I smile back.
Fluffy wags his tail, then jumps up and bounds over to him. Fluffy has never met a stranger.
“Fluffy!” I call out, scrambling to my feet. “Get back here! No, don’t jump on people!”
“It’s okay,” Zane says as he bends to pet the dog that’s jumping up on him. “I love dogs.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, rushing to clip the leash around Fluffy’s collar. I gently tug him back. “He’s a very energetic dog.”
Zane runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. I couldn’t tell from the photo on my sister’s phone, but in real life Zane has bright blue eyes. They’re hard to look away from.
“I’m Zane,” he says. “I just moved in.”
“Zara,” I say, pointing to my back yard. “I live there.”
He grins. “Cool, we’re neighbors.”
I grin back. There’s another thing the photo on my sister’s phone didn’t reveal.
Zane Warren is ridiculously cute.
