by Jaci J
“Jesus. I have pads on, Em.” Grabbing for her hand, she jerks it away before I can look at it.
“You promised me, Zac,” she says, rubbing at her knuckles. I really messed up. It would have been our first dance together and I ruined it.
“I know,” I say sadly, hanging my head. “What was I supposed to say?”
“No! You could have told her ‘I have a date.’ I know we’re new to this whole couple thing, but you don’t go around, taking girls on dates when you have a girlfriend!”
“She put me on the spot in front of everyone and I panicked. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or embarrass her. I’ll tell her I can’t go. She can find a new date.”
Now she’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “No. You can’t do that.”
For fuck’s sake.
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“You can’t leave her hangin’ like that. Just go with her,” she huffs, exasperated. “We’re together now, and after this, people need to know it. Promise me. From now on, it’s me and you.”
“Swear to God.”
“Good. Now kiss me.”
I do. I kiss her until she pushes me away, smiling.
“You’re getting me wet,” she says breathlessly, and I refrain from making some lame “that’s what she said” joke. Em’s happy, and I’d prefer to keep it that way, so I keep it inside. “I love you,” she says softly when I kiss her again, grabbing her ass.
Looking down into her eyes, I know there is nothing better out there for me. Her eyes are filled with emotion I couldn’t even begin to touch. Her love for me is real. It’s honest. It’s the best fucking thing in the world.
“I love you, too,” I tell her, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything. I’ll love her today, tomorrow, and until the last fucking day of my life. I’m young, but I’m not dumb. Em is it for me.
“Forever?”
“Forever,” I confirm.
“Promise?”
“Fuck yeah.”
That was the plan, but she robbed me of the chance to do all things I wanted to do with her.
“Would it be a problem?” Nadia asks, bringing my attention back to her.
Shit.
I missed what she said, and I instantly feel like a fucking asshole for neglecting her on our date. Guilt is the reason we’re here in the first damn place. The least I can do is pay attention to her.
“What?”
“Would you be mad if I didn’t come to the wedding? I mean, I’m not really friends with anyone there…”
Noticing Emerson shift in her chair, I look up and I’m instantly lost to her. Her eyes are sad and unfocused. She’s blatantly staring, but doesn’t acknowledge the fact that I’m staring right back at her.
Locked in her gaze, I feel my heart hammering away in my fucking chest.
“Zac!” Nadia slams her glass down, jerking me back. “What is your problem?”
“Nothin’. Sorry.”
She frowns at me, batting some hair out of her pretty face. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. “It’s no problem,” I tell her half-heartedly. I don’t really care if she comes or not.
“I have a final on Monday I really have to study for.” Smiling apologetically, she shrugs. “Plus, you’ll be with your brother and friends and stuff.” Leaning her chest against my shoulder, she whispers in my ear, “But I’ll make it up to you later.”
Nothing. Her words do nothing for me.
I give in and give up. “Yeah, okay.”
~~~~~~
Standing in the dimly lit back hall with my hands in my pockets, I wait for Emerson.
I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing, what I’m planning on saying, but that look, that heartbroken stare got to me.
I left Nadia at the table, texting. Who she’s texting, I have no idea, and I really don’t care. I had to get to Emerson.
I wait for what feels like hours in the hall alone.
What is she doing in there?
I’m about to go in after her when the bathroom door opens and she walks out, looking down at her floor.
“Em.” I clear my throat, unsure.
Her head snaps up and she flinches. Her eyes are red.
She was crying.
Crushing guilt. Consuming heartache. Why does this shit keep happening?
“Zac,” she breathes, visibly shook.
I feel like shit.
Rubbing at the back of my neck, I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with this whole fucking mess.
A weird silence fills the space between us. Never in my life did I think there’d be this thing between us.
I want to apologize. I want to clear the air. I want to beg her to love me again, but I don’t do any of that.
“You okay?” I ask when nothing else seems right. I know she’s not, but I ask anyways.
She shrugs one shoulder and her face squeezes in mock confusion. Em plays a good game. I might not know her like I used to, but I see right through her bullshit. Her eyes say it all.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Fuck, I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I start questioning why the hell I came back here in the first place. I’m uncomfortable and un-fucking-sure.
I just stare at her, waiting for some sort of sign as to where this is going.
“Stop lookin’ at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t know me.” I don’t. I know my Emerson. The woman standing in front of me is a stranger. A stranger I wish I knew.
“I don’t.”
“Zac,” she pleads softly. “Are you going to be mad at me forever? Hold it against me until I die?”
Em’s finally seeing what I’m seeing, but am I? Will I ever get over it? It’s pretty damn hard when I’ve been holding on to ten years’ worth of resentment towards her. I’m a big man, and I’m packed full of that shit.
“Jesus, Zac.” She shoves past me when I don’t say anything more. “You’re an asshole!” She calls over her shoulder as she walks away from me.
I let her go, not sure what the fuck to do.
Wedding planning is not for the faint of heart.
There’s the dress, the florist, the music, the venue. Hors d’oeuvres? Band or DJ? Four courses or buffet? Limo, or a horse-drawn carriage? And let’s not get started on the color of the bridesmaid’s dresses. The list is never-ending. I feel for Holly. Her glassy eyed stare says it all. She’s completely overwhelmed.
I’ve never planned a wedding, at least not out loud. But I knew wine would do the trick. Like I say; it’s the cure for all that ails you.
Sitting around Holly’s kitchen table with wedding magazines, swatches, flowers, food, and wine glasses surrounding us, we hash out all the last minute details. Helping to put Holly’s overactive imagination to rest is easy with the assistance of wine and kind words. We promise her nothing horrible is going to happen. We assure her it’ll be perfect. We tell her how beautiful she’ll be. It’s all true. She loves Luke and Luke loves her. A fucking hurricane couldn’t ruin a wedding that’s been in the works since they were kids.
Drinking my wine, I listen to my friend’s gush and gab over the upcoming nuptials and their love lives. They’re all happy, and honestly, I’m happy for them. I love Holly, Luke, and all my friends, but I’m envious. I want what they have. I didn’t ten years ago, but the older me, the me now, wants it all. Too bad I’m too late.
The grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Sometimes it’s the same shade you already had before. I left and I got what I was looking for—music and independence—but I also got something else, a really sad fucking case of envy and jealousy, which is oddly the same ugly color as the grass I’m currently on.
I haven’t seen Zac all week, which is probably a good thing. I might have punched him if we did cross paths at this point.
I get it, he’s still mad at me. I understand it. But he looks happy, and he’s moved on. What I don’t want is for it t
o be awkward and uncomfortable when we have to be around each other. Our families are close. We share the same friends. We’re going to be living in the same small town, so we’re bound to run into each other more than we’d like. With all these factors, it’s inevitable. But I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t take back what I did, no matter how much I wish I could. I can’t blame him for the way he feels, and I need to accept whatever he’s willing to give me, be it friendship or space.
“You okay over there, Em?” Row asks, touching my arm.
“Oh, yeah,” I lie.
“You sure?”
“Positive.” Not really.
Row falls back into helping her sister with the planning and I follow suit, determined not to let my envy sour this moment for my friends.
~~~~~~
“What is that noise?” Row asks, covering her ears. A chainsaw screams from somewhere outside. Holly follows the noise, while me and Row fall into step behind her. She’s showing us where her new deck will go.
“The guys are taking a few trees down or somethin’.”
Holly opens the back door and I’m hit with a shirtless Zac. My mouth instantly dries and my knees go weak.
His naked back is to me, a chainsaw in his hands. On his head is a backwards baseball hat, and on his legs are a pair of dirty jeans.
Sweet Jesus.
Off in the distance I hear Holly tell us the details about her beautifully planned backyard, but all I can hear is that damn chainsaw.
Swallowing hard, I cross the already existing deck. Why must he look the way he does?
“It’s hot as two rats fuckin’ in a wool sock,” Row complains, falling into my side. She instantly starts fanning herself.
What?
“That’s a lovely picture you just painted,” I respond mindlessly as I stare at the muscles rippling in Zac’s back as he works the chainsaw over his head. My nipples go hard just watching him. “You could have just stuck with your usual ‘hot as balls.’” I say, my voice sounding miles away to my own ears.
“I wouldn’t know anything about balls,” she grumbles. “Okay, you can stop staring now. You’re starting to drool,” she adds, jerking on my arm to pull me out of my daze.
I tear my eyes away from him, noting how wet my panties are now. Where’s a spare pair when you need them?
“Balls?” I tease, sitting down in a patio chair next to Row.
“Haven’t seen ’em in a long damn time,” she huffs.
“I feel your pain. It’s been well over a year for me.” My dry spell has lasted for what feels like years. It’s pathetic.
“We’re gettin’ old,” Row groans.
“Yeah, you are.” A voice that doesn’t belong to Row answers. Looking over my shoulder, Zac is smirking at me, happy. Oh Jesus, he heard me.
I hide my face behind my glass as Zac and Row start bickering about age and who’s doing it faster.
I don’t celebrate, but I’m not going to lie. Hearing that Em hasn’t been with anyone in over a year makes me happy. Happy enough to do a goddamn cartwheel across this yard.
Sitting down next to her, I smile when she gives me that look. The one that says I must have lost my damn mind. I let it roll off my back today, just happy to be next to her. I’m in a good mood. Hell if I know why. Could be because Nadia is visiting a friend, or it could be because after ten years I can still make Em blush like the first time I told her about all the things I wanted to do to her body.
“Uhh…” she stammers, either out of embarrassment or frustration. “…what are you doin’?”
“Takin’ a load off.”
“Next to me?”
“Next to you,” I confirm.
“Why?”
Shrugging, I smile. “Why not?”
“You hate me?”
Shrugging again, I take the glass from her hand and toss it back. Wine, my least favorite thing, but the woman likes to take from me, so I’m more than happy to repay the favor. “Meh. I don’t hate you much.”
“You’re so damn difficult,” she huffs, done with my shit. I’ve never been described as easy to deal with. I’m not the nicest guy you’re gonna meet, but I am who I am, and Emerson knows this. “One day I’m public enemy number one, and today we’re buds?”
“Buds?” I laugh at her choice of words. Buds? We couldn’t be further from buds if we tried.
“Yeah, asshole—buds.”
“You know I’ve always had a hard damn time leavin’ you alone.” I throw her words back at her, because she’s right. I do have a problem leaving her alone. I don’t hate her, but I’m weary of her.
I just can’t leave her the fuck alone.
Em’s head whips around to look at me, glaring. “Remember how I told you I’d smack you?”
“I do.”
“It still stands,” she smirks, taking her glass from my hand.
Shifting in my seat, I turn towards her and smile when she glares, but the look doesn’t last long. Her eyes drop to my chest and widen. For a moment she doesn’t say anything, just stares.
“You still have it,” she whispers. The air around us grows thick, and my heart starts beating faster.
“I do.”
Reaching up, I touch it lightly, feeling that it’s still slightly raised. Still a permanent part of me.
Emerson.
The tattoo is a little faded now, but it’s still displayed proudly across the left side of my chest, right above my heart.
“Why?” she asks, truly perplexed.
She reaches out and touches it lightly, her fingers tracing the curve of each letter. I fight the groan that’s trying to force its way out of my throat. Her fingers feel so goddamn good on the little bit of skin she’s touching. My dick starts to strain against my jeans.
Fuck.
After a moment, her hand falls away from my body, and I want to put it back. Desperation crawls up my spine.
“Why didn’t you get it removed or covered up?” A lot of shit had happened between me and her, but I could never convince myself to erase it, or her, completely from my life. As much as I hated her at times, I loved her even more. “It’s part of me, just like you were once.”
Everything is starting to shift between us. I can feel it, and I know she can too.
For a second she looks lost. I know she still loves me, it’s written all over her beautiful face. In the back of my mind I know were getting close to crossing a line we shouldn’t, but I don’t think I care anymore.
“Em…”
She stops me before I can cross it. Shooting up out of her chair, she says in a shaky voice and glassy eyes, “I need more wine.” Walking away from me she yells over her shoulder, “Want anything?”
You sits on the tip of my tongue, but I holler back, “Nah” instead, letting her go.
~~~~~~
“Wait. What?” I stop midstep.
Luke looks sullen, his head sagging and feet shuffling towards the ice chest for another beer. I’m not sure I heard him right, so I clarify, “A coed bachelor/bachelorette party?” Walker, Justin, and Christian look as confused as I do. Luke’s cousin Dave looks downright devastated at the idea.
“Yeah,” I hear Luke mutter under his breath. This idea has female written all over it.
“So, instead of having one last hurrah, a final send-off into married life, we’re doing what we’ve always done? Hang out as a group at a fucking bowling alley?” I ask, shocked. Luke’s a man’s man, the strip club type. Apparently he’s put on his apron early.
“I guess,” Walker answers for him.
“No strip club then?” Dave hollers, mad as hell.
“No strip club!” Holly shouts from the open bathroom window. The girls are getting ready, while us guys sit and bullshit over some beers.
I couldn’t care less about naked asses and tits in my face, but a little guy time would be much appreciated at this point. I need a breather. A night to get my head right would be good, but it looks like I’m shit out of luck, because Nad
ia came home a few hours early, and Em’s going be with us at the bowling alley.
“Did you give her your balls already?” Dave asks a disjointed Luke. I know he loves the girl more than life, but I’m with Dave the Douche here. One last shebang would have been a good way to go out. Every married human needs one last party before giving it all up.
“Holly wanted it, and I love Holly.” And that’s the end of that. I know the feeling well.
~~~~~~
“Strike.” Even buzzed I can manage to get the ball down the lane without killing anyone, unlike Luke who damn near took out the guy in the next lane over. But what I can’t manage is keeping my head in the game since Emerson wandered off about twenty minutes ago.
I’ve spent the last twenty minutes and two pints wondering what she’s doing and why.
“I’m gonna…” My words trail off when I realize everyone is looking at me like they knew I was leaving before I did.
Nadia doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t even look up from her phone when I walk off. Whatever her and I had when we met is dying out faster than it started. It’s been pretty damn obvious for a while now, and I’m sure she feels it too.
Walking outside, along the side of the building, I know I should go back inside, but I keep walking, heading right for that line, the one I know I shouldn’t cross with Emerson.
Rounding the corner, I find who I’m looking for, alone.
There she is, perched on top of the old commercial ice chest with her legs swinging and a beer bottle in her hand. I figured this is where I’d find her.
“How’s the view from up there?” I ask her, leaning back against the cooler, her leg resting next to my shoulder.
I want to touch her, but I don’t. Since this afternoon, everything feels different.
“Parking lot’s beautiful,” she answers wistfully, her voice soft and distant.
“Yeah, it is.” I agree.
I don’t want to stay away from her. I always find myself looking for her in a room, my body always gravitating towards her whenever she’s close. I look for her at stoplights when I drive through town. I hope to run into her at my parents’ place. At the gas station, I look for her car when I’m pumping gas, hoping she’ll pull in. At friend’s houses, I hope like hell she shows. She’s all I ever think about now that she’s back.