My stomach knots when I approach the food truck. I smell Tex-Mex, but I’m in no shape to eat yet. I just want water.
A girl with lots of dark hair sticks her head out the opening. “Hey, there. It may be a while for dinner, but you can go ahead and check out our menu.” She points to the side of the truck.
“We have some cookies and queso ready,” another voice says. A blonde head slides toward the center of the truck, then appears in the window. “Genesis, they can eat snacks at any time . . .”
Her voice trails off when she looks up. I blink and pinch myself to make sure I’m seeing right. The fact that she looks equally shocked to see me says I am.
“Tiffany?”
“Colt.” She blushes.
“I didn’t know you were here.” I shake my head. “I mean, I knew you moved to the beach, but I didn’t know you were here, here, like at this beach, in this food truck.”
I clear my throat. There I go, rambling like an idiot. But it’s not every day you randomly run into your ex-girlfriend on a music video set.
A slight smile crosses her lips. She still wears bright red lipstick, and memories of kissing her flood my mind. More than once, I had to swipe red stains off my face after we kissed. She would laugh, and it would aggravate me. Looking back, it made for great memories.
“Can we help you?” the Genesis girl asks.
“Oh yeah.” I clear my throat. “Can I get a bottle of water?”
“Yes.” Genesis turns and fumbles in a refrigerator, leaving me to stare at Tiffany like a loser. I drop my head and focus on my boots. Whatever cool points I gained by filming a video for my first country music solo song are trumped by my awkwardness.
“Here you go.”
I lift my head to take the water. Instead of the first girl holding it out, Tiffany does. My pulse picks up when I reach for the bottle in her hand. We make physical contact for the first time in years.
The way my stomach pits, you’d think it was worthy of wiping red off my face—not sliding my hand against hers for a split second.
“Thanks,” I manage to say.
The good news is she no longer looks weirded out. Her smile is wider, and she studies me with her eyes.
I’ve aged some since we dated in high school. My baseball days are long gone, along with my perfect body. I still work out, but I spend a lot of time on the road instead of practicing ball.
I smile back to stall while I think of something clever to say. Maybe a good throwback to high school only she will get. Or a joke about her working in a food truck since she nearly wrecked my truck once.
“Colt, we need you for makeup,” a voice calls behind me.
Every bone in my body freezes. It takes an unnatural effort for me to turn around and move my concrete feet.
Jessica waves to me from the middle of the parking lot with a makeup brush in her hand. I swallow and pick up my lead-filled feet, slowly making my way to her.
“Come on.” She loops an arm through mine and speed walks us toward thetrailer. “It always takes me longer to do a new face. It won’t be as bad tomorrow.”
Won’t be as bad?She does realize I’m a dude about to wear makeup for the first time, right? And not for the last since we’re filming multiple days.
I shake my head and take a sip of water. Karma caught up to me for teasing JD about getting makeup for his video.
Jessica talks nonstop all the way to the trailer. I walk in silence, pretending to listen. Instead, my mind travels in a thousand different directions that all lead back to Tiffany.
What does she think of me now? Is she surprised I have a song out? Has she followed my career? Does she think I like Jessica?
I slide my arm away from hers. She’s almost a decade older than us and wears enough makeup for a billboard, but that may not mean anything to Tiffany.
Jessica stops at the trailer door and motions for me to go inside. I pick up my guitar.
“No, sir. You have to keep still for makeup. No guitar playing.”