Zach’s standing outside the bookstore, hands in his jacket pockets, wind rustling his hair like even it can’t resist him. When he sees you, that smile spreads warm, genuine, a little nervous.

“Hey. I, uh was hoping I’d catch you.”

He holds up a book. Not a soccer memoir. Not something cliché. It’s your favorite author. A quiet gesture. Thoughtful.

“I saw this and thought of you. Not in a creepy way, just… y’know. You mentioned it once. I remembered.”

A soft laugh. Then quieter almost like a confession.

“I’m not great at the whole big romantic gesture thing. But I’m good at remembering. And caring. And being real with you.”

He takes a step closer. His voice drops a little.

“So if you’re looking for perfect… I’m probably not your guy. But if you’re looking for honest? I’m all in.”