Where is he? Maybe he did stop to see his first love, that stupid bridge, unless he chained himself to it. That’s always a gigantic possibility.
I wait up until 11:48 and try again.
Nothing. I ponder whether to drive over to his place, seeing what he’s up to, but that would fall under the realm of an untrusting girlfriend. I do trust him. I want to. Regardless of my insecurities, I am worried about him.
I turn off my lamp and roll to Finn’s side of the bed, inhaling his faint scent from the pillow, automatically causing tears to spring to my eyes and my heart to agonizingly burn for him.
It’s going to be another long night.
I try to make it through Friday, but it has to be the slowest day in history. Every time I check the clock, it seems to be the same time for an hour…every hour. I want Finn to call me, yet at this rate I’ll have to watch The Wild Side later to even hear his voice.
Dropping my ink pen on the floor, I duck underneath my desk to retrieve it. “Did you hear from Wilder?” Rod asks, startling me and I inadvertently make a big production of nearly falling out of my chair. “Whoa, there, Hadders. I’m used to women falling at my feet, but that’s a little much. Settle down. There’s enough of me to go around.”
“You’re so funny,” I drone, trying to get resituated in my chair.
“So, I take it Wilder didn’t call. Or did he, and you confessed your eternal love for me, thus causing him to climb out onto a ledge and you having to talk him down?” He giggles and shoves his hands into his gray pants pockets and bounces in place. “After you rescued him, I hope you didn’t fail to mention that we’re registered at Macy’s.”
I put my elbows on my desk and bury my face into my hands. “Shut up, Rod.”
“What kind of wedding gift would he give us? Maybe bed sheets. Wouldn’t that be odd to give an ex, you used to fuck, sheets to fuck someone else on?” I ignore him as he walks to the window, presumably to survey the cemetery’s current activities. “He could always gift us a crockpot and we could have him at our place for Sunday dinner. That would be 40 tiers of awkward, him sitting across the table as you and I hold hands, tongue wrestling over pot roast. I guess that wouldn’t be as awkward as inviting him to watch you and me screw on the sheets he gave us.”
Collapsing against my chair, I recline my head so I can stare at the ceiling. “Don’t you have Morgan to harass?”
“You said her ass.” I roll my eyes while he laughs, and then says, “No, not since slapping me with yet another restraining order.”
“I think I need to look into those.”
“Don’t be petty. Mortgage is in court. Why do you never know anything around here?”
Sighing, I continue to study the white grid above me. “Because you do and you’re always in here, so why bother?”
“True. My office is next to Morticia’s and she always feels the need to tell me where she’s going, like I care.” He blows air between his lips in a scoff. “So, what field position will you be vying for tomorrow? I think Wilder already has a special position for you: his personal bat girl. The only duty you have is to polish his bat with your glove.”
Dropping my head down, I glance over my shoulder. “Rod, please tell me there is a point to your visit.”
He turns from the window and grins. “I wanted to cheer you up.”
Blankly staring at him, I unsmilingly deadpan, “Mission accomplished.”
“Come on, Hadders! Smile! At least you’ll see Wilder on TV.”
I twist my ponytail aimlessly on top of my head and nod. “Yes. It’s always better to watch him on TV instead of running my hands through his hair or kissing his lips.”
“That is disgusting. Such filth. Watch your mouth, whore.” Fighting the urge to laugh, I let my hair fall and return to typing information from a police report; though, I’ve now read the same sentence nine times.
Rod takes a seat and starts thumping his fists to a rhythm on my desk. “I could be the pitcher. I have great aim.”
I mutter, “That’s what all the guys say about you.”
His fists stop. “Hey! That’s actually pretty good, Hadders! I should knee you in the balls for saying that, but still.”
I lightly giggle at the computer screen and shrug. “I have my moments.”
“That’s what Wilder’s been telling everybody about your skills in bed.”
I continue typing as he resumes drumming and I say, “Again. Is there a reason for your extended stay here?”
“I already told you. I’m here to spread some merriment and glee.”
“Isn’t that your same stance regarding herpes?”
He slams his hands down onto my desk. “Damn! You are on a roll, woman! Nicely done! See, I’m a good influence. I did make you feel better.”
“That is subjective.”
I hear him dramatically pouting behind me, but then he’s quiet. “Really. Are you doing okay?”
My hands freeze above the keyboard. Slowly, I pivot my seat around to face him. His face is suddenly serious. “No. I’m stuck between curling into a ball and crying like a baby, and running out of here to go see him, even though I’m the one who needs time. If I go to his apartment, he won’t let me think. He’ll either be mad, wanting to fight with me, or he’ll be too happy I’m there, not letting me leave.”
Rod’s face scrunches. “Eww.”
Shaking my head, I worriedly look down at my hands. “Anyway, I don’t know how tomorrow will go when I see him. I want him to respect my wishes and give me some distance, but then again, I want to cave and jump him in the backseat of his car.”
Sticking out his tongue this time, he whines, “Double eww.” I finally smile at his sour expression.
Rod stretches his arms casually above his head, his gold watch glaring in the sunlight, and states breathily, “Well, I’ll be your DB for tomorrow.”
My eyes widen. “DB? I’m afraid to ask.”
He sits back and crosses his ankle over his knee, while drumming his fingers against his thigh. “Designated Boyfriend. I’ll take Wilder’s place at our meeting. I’ll be your guard against his overtures, so he’ll leave you alone.”
I tilt my head and my eyes fall to his Scooby Doo tie. He’s wearing that for the comments I made about his snooping in Crick’s desk. What an ass. “Do you think he’d actually listen to you? And what do you think he’d say if he heard you refer to yourself as my boyfriend?”
His hand falls to his crotch and he cringes. “He’d tear my junk off in one stealth move, I’m sure.”
I point my ink pen at his chest. “Yes, he would, so you need to watch it tomorrow, while watching me, ensuring that I don’t give in and go home with him. Don’t do anything stupid though, Rod. I’m serious. I doubt he’ll be in any mood for your shenanigans.”
He throws his hands up. “I’m pretty sure I know what my job is, Hadders. I’ll even pick you up tomorrow, that way I’ll have to take you home.”
I glance at his gray suede shoe hanging over his knee. “Finn can easily offer to take me home if I don’t drive.”
He devilishly grins. “That’s when you tell him you’re going to hang out at my apartment to play naked Twister.”
I keenly nod. “Yes, and I promise to visit you in the hospital when you’re unconscious and depending on a ventilator to breathe.”
Rod scoffs as he straightens his tie, “Well, be a pal and at least make sure you bring my iPod to play some good tunes for me.”
“Duly noted.”
There’s a swift knock and Amos pokes his bald head into my office. “Hadley, Val in?” Hello to you too, Amos.
“No, she had a meeting with a client.”
“Oh.” Amos’ eyes drift to Rod sitting in the chair. “Rod, why are you always bothering this nice, young lady?”
Rod grins happily, bouncing his knee. “We’re buds!”
I shake my head at Amos. “No, I barely know him.” I hear Rod grumble and I stifle a laugh.
Even if Amo
s’ rough voice matches his perpetual scowl, I think he’s teasing. “I don’t think she wants to date you, so why don’t you leave her alone?”
Rod tosses his hand agitatedly up in the air toward Amos. “That’s not what I’m doing here!”
Amos nods, his gold hoop earrings bobbing slightly. “Sure, but it might help if you stayed within your league.”
I bite my lip as Rod nearly combusts. “In my league? And you think this chick is above me? She couldn’t score a date from a blind, ex-con, circus clown set free after 10 years in solitary confinement!”
I glower. “Thanks!”
He glances at me, offering me a spirited smirk before lashing his head back to Amos. “She has a boyfriend anyway. Don’t you remember she’s dating—?”
I quickly shake my head at Amos, interrupting Rod, “Nobody.” Rod whips his head to me, questioningly discerning my action.
Amos nods his head as he digests that, then shrugging. “Well, no wonder Rod’s always in here then.” He gives Rod a look through squinted eyes. “I actually thought you played for the other team.”
Rod sits straight as a board and pats his chest heatedly, ruffling his Scooby tie. “Me? What? Amos, are you serious?” Amos doesn’t respond to that, but knowingly smirks at the both of us before leaving my office.
Rod nearly jumps out of his chair. “What the fuck was that?” he shrieks. “Amos Vaughn thinks I’m gay too?”
I grin. “Swing that closet door open and march right out, Rod. We all support you.”
Frustrated, he stomps a foot and throws his hands into his dark hair. “I’m not gay!”
My frown returns and I sneer, “And really? A blind, ex-con clown?”
Rod huffs to the window, but turning to give me a probing look and indulgently saying, “Oh, Hadders. I’d still do you.”
I wince and roll my chair back. “What? That’s gross.”
He nods as a sickened expression creeps across his face. “I know. I just about threw up on your desk joking about that.”
Still flinching, I reply, “Not sure if I should be insulted.”
“I was so close to hurling earlier joking about the bed sheets too. Oh, I can taste my breakfast now.” He laughs, but abruptly stops. “Hold on. Why’d you tell Amos that you’re single?”
“Because if he doesn’t remember, then I’m not going to remind everyone else that I’m dating our…coach.”
He cocks an eyebrow and grins. “You’re doing more to our coach than merely dating him. I mean, you know what his O-face looks like.” He puts his index finger on his bottom lip and taps thoughtfully. “You know, him being your coach actually sounds pretty kinky. How will he punish you if you get out of line? Hmm. Maybe he’ll make you scrub all the bases with a toothbrush.” He shakes his head. “No, I bet he’d do something to embarrass you. Have you sing the National Anthem before a game, even though you sing like a cat choking on a bird. Oh, I know!” He snaps his fingers and fervently nods. “During the ninth inning stretch, he’ll make you blow him on home plate.” He giggles as I grab my small dictionary and hurl it, hitting him in the shoulder with pages flying in a flourish, and landing with a small thud on the floor.
He grabs his shoulder and grimaces. “Ow! What’s the big deal about everyone knowing about you two? It’s not like Wilder won’t be stalking you anyway. Why let your coworkers wonder if you’re dating when you can just tell them you are? Morgan, Val and Rhonda know.”
“I’ll ask them not to spread the word because we want to keep it low key.”
Rod scowls in confusion. “He got a fucking tattoo for you on TV. That’s not exactly low key.”
“Nobody has said anything about it. If people know, then fine. If not, I won’t advertise that we are together. I’m sure Finn will want it that way, too.”
“If you say so. Although, I think if you offered, he’d let you jack him off in front of the team. You know, as part of a team, you should be willing to take one for the team.”
“You sure do like talking about my boyfriend’s penis.”
Rod’s mouth falls open and he wrinkles his nose. “Bite me. By the way, It’s nice to know Amos thinks I’m either trolling for you or am gay. I’m not sure which one I’d rather be accused of.”
“And I don’t know if I should be laughing, crying or punching you in the face.”
Curled up on my couch, I watch the six o’clock news before Finn comes on. I keep checking my phone for missed calls and if my ringer volume is up loud enough. If I try calling him now, he wouldn’t answer since he’s about to work. Why haven’t I heard from him all week? I really should’ve gone to his place last night.
The anchor at the desk, Darren Matthews, who I know Finn can’t stand, swivels his chair and the camera pans to show Finn sitting in an alcove. The Wild Side with Finn Wilder is emblazoned in a colorful image on a green screen behind him. Finn’s insta-smile is already in place and he’s ready for his 10 minutes, his segment being longer on Fridays during high school football season, but he still eats up any spotlight he can get.
Finn is sharp in a dark blue suit and a white dress shirt adorned by a silver and blue plaid tie. His alluring hair, a light brown glinting with blonde under the lights, is tousled so deliciously, with golden strands brushing over his forehead. Pam styled his hair that way? His hair is never this loose on TV, only away from work. It looks as if I had disheveled it with my fingers while kissing him.
How I want to do that to him so much.
“Long time no see, Finn. How was your mini vacay last weekend?”
“It was great.”
“Did your girlfriend like your tattoo?”
“Yeah, she did. How was your Easter?” He deflects as usual, but wow. That’s the first time he’s acknowledged my existence from his news set. After three years, even a sliver of acknowledgement is surreal.
“Good. What did she say about it?”
“Uh, she was shocked. This week’s dare sort of coincides with last week’s.”
“Really? How would you ever top getting a tattoo for her?”
Finn coolly blows off his insinuation of marriage. “Well, it won’t top it or anything, but it’s related.”
Darren’s blue eyes shamelessly gleam. “So, I take it since you inked her name permanently on your body that this mystery woman is the one?”
Finn’s jaw stiffens and his brown eyes flash, but his smile stays firmly in place. “That’s safe to assume.”
“Are you ever going to introduce your Finnatics to your longtime lady love? Invite us to your wedding?”
My boyfriend’s stubbled jaw flexes underneath his waning smile. Definitely ticked off. “She’s shy.”
Before Darren can continue with more imposing queries, Finn swiftly looks away from him and into the camera, making me smile back at his quick, bright grin. As he explains the dare, I visualize the times I’ve licked those lips and sucked on his tongue, or gripping his tie to hold him close to me, getting him hot and bothered as he hurriedly unzips his pants.
Biting my smiling lip, I shake my head as I try to refocus my attention to Finn’s dialogue instead of daydreaming about his body. Now that I see his face more close-up, I notice he’s tired and his smile isn’t as genuine as he wants it to appear.
“So, Hadley, here’s your dare.” His lips quirk up at the corner before the clip plays, but his dark eyes betray his uneasiness. About what? Darren’s questions? Our arguing? What he’s been doing at night without me?
What is going on with Finn Wilder?
I watch as ‘The Eye of the Tiger’ begins playing. On the screen, Finn looks yummy in a gray tank top, which perfectly displays his arm tattoos, black shorts and a big smile as he starts off, excitedly jogging down a Philadelphia street. His flaxen, sunlit hair glows as it bounces with each step. He’s definitely in his glory retracing an abbreviated path Sylvester Stallone took, though not the identical one, I imagine, but probably close enough.
When Finn eventually reaches the bottom o
f the steps, he impatiently jogs in place before it cuts again to a wide shot of him from the top of the stairs, still jogging away. I wonder how long it took Milo to get up there fast? If this had been planned as a more official dare, he most likely would’ve had two camera guys. And where’s Finn’s BFF?
Getting a signal from someone off camera, Finn enthusiastically bounds up the gigantic cement staircase leading up to the Philadelphia Museum of Art as if he was just freed from being pent up in a cage. All 70-some of those steps, without taking a breather. When he ultimately reaches the top, he stomps up the last step and jumps up and down enthusiastically, pumping his fists in the air and shouting to anyone curiously watching nearby, “I’m just like Rocky! Whoo! Yeah!”
Yep. That’s my man.
Finn turns to the camera and to my surprise, starts rolling his hips around with his arms sort of matching the movement, resembling him using an invisible hula-hoop and my mouth drops open in astonishment. He said he’d do an embarrassing dance for me, and there it is. Finn Wilder, who has no rhythm outside of the bedroom, is doing just that. I fleetingly think that this could possibly be the father of my child, which makes me laugh until I’m crying and snorting, and then laughing harder because I realize I’m snorting like Rod.
The funniest part of the entire thing is the expression on Finn’s face. He looks as if he fell into a vat of quick-drying cement and he’s panicking.
Finn suddenly stops to look up at the camera, sheepishly smiling, the breeze blowing through his mystical hair. “This was for you, Becks. Aside from the dancing, I hope I did you proud. Thanks for daring me…again.”
Returning live in the studio, Finn’s brilliant smile is on display once more. “That was so much fun. Except for the last part, which I’ll never, ever do again, it definitely was one of my favorite dares. I have my next dare right here from a viewer.” He reads from a piece of paper:
“Dear Finn,
I dare you to be the front tire changer in a Pit Road Challenge before a NASCAR race for fans to watch during prerace festivities at the Richmond International Speedway.
Daring the Wild Sparks Page 37