Page 1 of Her Ohio Old Flame

Prologue

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO

The lights of Peaceful High School’s gym cast a soft glow over the makeshift dance floor. Zane Parker adjusted the lapels of his rented tuxedo, his palms sweating despite the crisp spring evening. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, while scanning the doorway for any sign of Asha.

She’d been in the bathroom for a long time.

He checked his watch again, the minutes stretching like hours. Asha wasn’t the kind of girl to hang around fixing makeup and whatever girls did in the bathroom. She was always practical, the kind of person who planned her life down to the minute. But tonight, she was taking her sweet time, and Zane was left standing by the punch bowl, trying not to look like an idiot.

The gym doors swung open, and all his frustration evaporated. Asha stepped in, her pink dress catching the light like the first bloom of spring. Her dark hair was swept into soft curls, a few strands teasing her cheeks, and the smile she gave him made everything else in the room blur into nothingness.

“You’re staring,” she teased. Her mouth curved into a smile that didn’t seem to reach her eyes.

“Can you blame me?” Zane grinned, his voice faltering. He cleared his throat and managed to utter a more normal-sounding, “You’re stunning.”

Her smile turned brighter than the string lights overhead, but when she got closer, Zane frowned. Her eyes looked somewhat puffy, the skin around them faintly smudged, as though she’d been wiping away tears.

“Have you been crying?” He lowered his voice.

“What?” Asha blinked. “Of course not. I’m just not used to having mascara on.” She waved a hand dismissively, but the slight crack in her voice betrayed her.

Zane opened his mouth to press further, but a group of his teammates came crashing past, laughing and slapping him on the shoulder as they headed toward the punch table.

“Parker, looking good, man!” one of them shouted, a little too loudly.

Instinctively, Zane stepped closer to Asha to shield her from their rowdy jostling. She gave him a small, grateful smile and brushed his arm with her hand as the group passed.

“Want to dance?” She tilted her head toward the floor.

“Yeah,” he said, still distracted by the idea of her crying, but when she slipped her fingers into his, it was hard to think about anything else.

They swayed awkwardly at first, the tinny beat from the gym’s old speakers doing little to mask the shuffle of feet and the occasional nervous laughter around them. Zane felt like every move he made was too big, too clumsy, as if his broad shoulders and large frame didn’t belong on a dance floor. He kept his hand on Asha’s waist, the silky fabric of her dress fragile beneath his rough palm while he tried to focus on not stepping on her toes.

Her hand rested in his, her fingers soft and delicate like a bird, but his grip was too tight. What if he held her wrong?What if she thought he was trying too hard—or worse, not hard enough?

Zane cleared his throat and adjusted his grip, loosening his fingers. He stole a glance at her, trying to gauge her reaction, but Asha’s face was serene, her lips curved in a faint smile, her dark eyes glinting.

The faintest hint of her perfume lingered in the air—adding to her own sweet scent rather than overpowering it. It reached him in waves, grounding him in her presence.

God, she is beautiful.

His heart thudded painfully, but it wasn’t only nerves. Holding her this close, feeling the gentle press of her body against his, was overwhelming. The softness of her curves, the warmth of her hand, even the way she at first moved tentatively to the beat—it all made his head spin.

Then there was the other part that had his body reacting in ways he wished it wouldn’t. He shifted his posture, keeping his movements deliberate and careful, hoping she wouldn’t notice how much she affected him.

He forced himself to concentrate on the steps, trying to remember what their gym teacher had shown them in class. One-two-three, one-two-three. But even that felt unnatural. Zane Parker could throw a perfect spiral, run a fifty-yard dash, and tackle an opponent twice his size, but when it came to dancing, he was hopeless.

Until Asha leaned in.

She rested her head against his shoulder, and the soft weight of her trust calmed his nerves. Zane exhaled through his nose, the tension melting from his shoulders as he pulled her closer. His steps stopped feeling forced, his body finding its rhythm as he let himself move with her.

It wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t matter. Asha fit against him so effortlessly, like she belonged there, and every movementseemed to blend them together. She flexed her hand on his shoulder, her trust in him palpable, which hit Zane in a way he couldn’t explain.

He drew her nearer, the world around them fading into the background. The chatter of their classmates, the creak of the gym floor, even the cheesy pop song—it all disappeared. It was only them now.

They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Sometimes, words weren’t necessary to make a profound connection, to feel a clarity that cut through all the noise. Holding her in his arms, Zane felt it—knew it.

This girl was everything, and as they swayed, perfectly in sync, he allowed himself to believe they could stay like this forever.

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