by Jaci J
“Funny. Eat your food, ya shit.” She takes a hearty bite and winks at me.
This girl is gonna kill me.
Clomping through the greenest of green grass on the football field in Zac’s pair of giant rubber boots, I follow his jean-clad ass, which it is not easy.
“You strugglin’ back there, baby?” he calls back over his broad shoulder. I almost outwardly swoon at the endearment, but manage to keep it inside. Hell yeah, I’m struggling. My calves are on fire and my feet are cramping from trying to keep the stupid boots on, but I also keep that inside too.
I play it cool.
“I’m good,” I tell him, throwing a thumbs up in the air like an idiot.
Why is it that the older I’ve gotten, the lamer I’ve become? Ten years ago I was all easy breezy and Zac was the mess. Now I’m a damn fool wearing rain boots with a white lace dress, trying to keep up with his long ass legs. I swear I didn’t do drugs while I was away.
“What are we doin’ here?” I ask, looking out over the dark field.
“So not only are you still defiant, you’re also still impatient,” he says, glancing down at my boots. “And crazy as hell.”
“Sex on the field?” I ask, joking. Well, half joking. Okay, not joking at all.
“And she’s still wild.”
“Will you quit talkin’ to yourself and tell me what we’re doing here?”
A few more steps and I can’t do it anymore. Kicking off the boots, I send them sailing past Zac.
“Field goal!” Zac shouts, arms in the air as he watches one fly by his head.
I take an exaggerated bow. “Thank you. Thank you.”
We both laugh.
Sweeping a hand past him in a grand gesture, he smirks. “Well, now that you’re comfortable.” Stepping back, he moves out of my line of sight. “Desert is served, you impatient little shit.”
Looking past him I see a blanket laid out in the middle of the field, and next to it is an ice chest overflowing with different tubs of ice cream in every flavor. I’m sure my eyes are as big as the moon.
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, I did.”
“I love you,” I tell him, diving for the ice cream. His eyebrows hit his hairline, but I’m too engrossed in my ice cream to think about the words I just let slip, even if I did mean them. “I’m gonna eat until I puke.” On my knees, I rummage through the ice chest and snag some sherbet.
“That’s the idea, baby. Eat until you’re too full to walk. I’ll roll you home.”
I laugh again, something I seem to do a lot with him. “You do love me.”
“You know I do. I’d roll you all the way across the country.”
Now that’s love.
~~~~~~
Lying on the fifty-yard line, my head on Zac’s chest, we reminisce. Reliving old memories and getting lost in them.
“I swear to fuck, Emerson, you were tryin’ to give me a heart attack with that outfit.” Zac sounds like he’s in pain just remembering something that I remember so differently.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you.”
I can feel him walk up behind me. My skin prickles and my body shivers.
“Em, look who’s here,” Row sings, bumping in to my shoulder.
Oh, hell. I bite my lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.
“Shut up,” I hiss at her, instantly feeling a little more self-conscience than I did four seconds ago.
Standing in line at the movies, my arms loaded down with popcorn and an Icee, we’re having a girl’s night out, but it looks like the boys are crashing.
“Em.” Zac’s deep voice rumbles beside me as he walks up.
Swallowing hard, I try to school my features, pretend like I’m not excited as shit he’s here.
“Hey,” I say. “Whatcha doin’ here?” I try to sound cool, uninterested. I’m pretty sure I fail miserably because he chuckles, clearly seeing straight through me.
“You think I wasn’t gonna show up, knowing you’re here?”
“I dunno.” Shrugging, I try to adjust the popcorn while looking cool, cocking my hip to the side.
Zac is wearing a perfectly distressed pair of jeans with his jersey. He’s so hot it’s unfair.
“Here,” Zac insists, taking the popcorn from me. “So, what are we seeing?”
“Didn’t you buy a ticket?”
He and his friend Bret start laughing, like it’s some sort of joke I’m not in on.
“Nah.” He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling just so.
“Zac,” I scold, but on the inside I smile. He’s so bad.
“Babe, I’m not spendin’ my money on some chick movie when I’d rather spend it later on ice cream for ya.”
“Then why are you here?” I ask breathlessly, leaning in closer to him. God, he smells so good.
The line moves and we all take a few steps forward, Zac still right next to me. Slipping his free hand into my back pocket, he whispers close to my ear, “Because my girl is here.”
I almost drop my freaking Icee.
Damn, the man.
“Standing in line you slipped your hand in my back pocket. I almost died,” I laugh, remembering the feel of his hand cupping my ass cheek though my old worn out denim jeans.
“Babe, you touched my dick that night. I’m pretty sure if anyone died that night it was me.”
Groaning, I slap a hand over my eyes.
“Shit. I did, didn’t I?” I swear it was an accident. Maybe.
There was no movie watched that night. The minute we sat down in the back row, in that dark corner, Zac couldn’t keep his hands off of me, but it’s not like I could keep mine off of him either. We were a couple of love drunk idiots.
It was a need I couldn’t even begin to truly understand at that age, but I felt it. That all-consuming fire. That overwhelming love.
“Fuck yeah, you did. That was a good night,” he chuckles.
We lay for a while, neither of us saying anything.
“Zac?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you ever wonder if this is all real, or if we’re just trying to relive the good stuff in our past?
“Feels too good and way too real to only be reliving memories.”
A raindrop hits my face and I roll my eyes to look up into the sky.
It’s not rain.
The sprinklers pick that exact moment to shower us, shooting out of the ground like little water guns.
Zac sits up instantly, taking me with him.
“Fuck.”
I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. Of course we’d end up soaked on the field at one in the morning from the school’s sprinkler system.
I sit there on my ass, laughing, while Zac grabs the blanket, mumbling something under his breath.
“What the fuck are you doin’?” Zac stops and looks down at me when I don’t get up, but before I can answer, he bends down and grabs me, tossing me over his shoulder.
“Zac! I can walk!” I laugh, my body still getting drenched as I dangle upside down.
With one hand on my ass, and the other wrapped around the back of my legs, he carries me all the way to the truck.
“I like this better,” he reasons, striding off the field.
“Are you takin’ me home?” I ask as the blood rushes to my face.
Releasing me, I slide down his body. I’m shivering, and it’s not from the cool air on my wet skin. Toe-to-toe, I peek up and find him staring back at me with a heated look in his eyes.
“You’re comin’ home with me.”
Looking up at me through a mess of wet hair, Emerson smiles. Those brown eyes of hers are wild and needy as she watches me toss my shirt onto the couch.
“Come here.”
Pushing herself away from the door, she reaches for her dress before I can. Peeling the wet material off her body, she drops it on the floor by her feet.
I feel like I’m seventeen all over again—out of control in love.
Emerson tak
es her time walking the ten steps towards me, her hips swaying. When she’s within reach I grab her, the skin of her arm soft and warm. Pulling her into me, I touch every inch I can get my hands on, then push her up against the wall.
Biting her lip, she looks up at me, putting her hand on my chest.
“No. Not yet.”
“Baby,” I growl. I’m in serious fucking pain. I have no patience.
Dropping to her knees, in nothing but a pair of black panties, she’s a goddamn dream, everything I’ve missed.
Unzipping my fly, she reaches inside. Her hand on my dick almost drops me to my knees. Wrapping her fingers around me, she squeezes.
“Em—”
“Shush.”
Before I have a second to think, she’s got my cock in her mouth. Her plump red lips wrapped around me is so fucking hot.
Putting my hands on the wall, I brace myself, barely able to hold myself up. Em runs her tongue around the head, and I can’t stop myself from thrusting myself into her mouth. I remove one hand from the wall and tangle it in her wet hair, trying to force myself a little deeper.
I watch her, absolutely fascinated, as she sucks me off with so much eagerness, I almost lose all fucking control.
Pulling out her mouth, I groan, missing the warmth.
“No more,” I pant.
I pull her up and pin her against the wall. Crouching down, I pull her panties down her thighs and toss them somewhere across the room.
Standing back up, I drag my hand up her leg, stopping at the juncture between her thighs. I slide two fingers into her wet, waiting cunt. Back arching, she closes her eyes and bites down on her lip when I add a third finger.
“You miss this?” I ask her as I stroke deep. Working my thumb over her clit, I aim to make her breathing hitch until she’s fucking breathless.
Working my fingers in and out of her tightness, I feel my balls damn near crawl into my throat. I’m so fucking hard.
Kissing her collarbone, I lose my head in her smell, in the feel of her skin on mine, the curve of her body. I finger fuck her until she’s panting and chewing a hole through her lip.
“I can’t stop,” I tell her.
“I don’t want you to,” she says, breathless.
I remove my fingers and she wraps her legs around me. Chest to chest, up against the wall, I sink my cock into her.
“I swear to fuck you fit me perfectly.”
“No talkin’. Only fuckin’.”
“Whatever you want.”
I fuck her slow and I fuck her hard up against the wall. One hand’s holding her up while the other’s tangled in her hair as she kisses me, sucking on my tongue, my lip.
We’re both shaking with need.
Pulling out, I pause before sinking all the way into her again, torturing us both as I do it over and over again. Her pussy throbs, squeezing the fuck out of me.
“Fuck, Zac,” she moans, almost painfully as I continue to move in and out of her at a slow, agonizing pace.
I’m having a hard time keeping my shit together, because this is what I remember. This consuming need, this frenzy, this fire that’s only ever burned between us.
Loving her is like fucking quicksand. It sucks me in and there’s no way to escape it.
“Don’t stop.”
“Not for the fuckin’ world.”
Everything in me tightens.
Sliding a hand between us, I circle her clit, sending her over the edge and she lets go, exploding.
“Ohhh…fuck. Fuuuuuck.”
Her foul mouth and tight cunt send me over the edge.
Burying my face in her neck, I come so hard my vision blurs and my legs damn near give out.
~~~~~~
I wake up to Emerson’s head tucked in my arm and her hair in my face. Her knee is jammed into my thigh and her nails are digging into my arm. My arm is numb and my neck hurts. And I’ve never been happier to be this uncomfortable.
Every morning, this is how I’m waking up from here on out. I’m waking up stiff, sore, and fucking happy.
I feel whole again, as corny as it may sound. With her in my bed, where she should’ve always been, I feel on top of the fucking world. Woke up with a smile, something I haven’t done in a long goddamn time.
Carefully I move her hair out of my face and kiss her softly.
Maybe this is how this was all supposed to work out. Maybe all the bullshit between then and now was how life was going to go no matter what either of us would have done. I’m tired of thinking about, tired of going over it all. She’s here now and that’s all that matters.
“Stop,” she moans when I move her an inch. Apparently, she’s still not a morning person.
Kissing her again, I laugh when she jerks her head away.
“Jesus, Zac, I was sleeping.” I try to keep the laughter to myself, but it’s impossible when she glares at me, hair sticking out all over the place. Rolling away from me, I pull her back, burying my face in her neck. She smells like us. The last thing I wanna do is get out of this bed.
Kissing her one last time, I leave her alone to sleep.
Slipping out of bed, I debate on staying in it with the cranky woman, but I don’t. I have to get to work, and I’m already running late.
But I’m not complaining.
~~~~~~
“I’m mad at you,” Em announces, shoving a cup of coffee at me. The brown liquid sloshes out onto my hand and the floor.
“You don’t say,” I respond, taking a drink of my coffee.
She’s standing in the middle of the kitchen, glaring at me, with her curls looking Medusalike, her arms folded across her chest, and her lips curled. She’s wearing one of my dirty T-shirts she snagged off the floor and a pair of the ugliest wool socks I’ve ever seen, and nothing else. But she’s still sexy as hell.
Walking out onto the porch I sit down on the small bench next to the door and grab my boots. I’m a man, but I prefer not to stomp my muddy boots through the house every damn day so I leave them out here.
Lacing them up, I look back through the door and smirk, catching a flash of ass under my tee when she reaches for another coffee cup in the cupboard. She must have felt me staring because when my eyes travel up, I find her glaring at me.
“Still not a mornin’ person, baby?” I laugh.
Walking towards the door, she leans up against it, crossing her ankles.
“No.”
Standing up, I hold my hand out. “Come here.”
She doesn’t hesitate. Em falls right into me. “I’m going back to bed when you leave.”
“Good.” I’m jealous of that bed.
“Zac, are you saying I need more sleep?” she asks through a yawn.
I don’t answer, kissing her instead.
Those lips could kill a man. Suddenly I’m wondering why I didn’t just say fuck work and stay in bed all day with her.
“Zac,” Em moans against my lips.
“Babe…”
“You gotta go.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You’ll be back as soon as you can.”
Laughing, I lean in and capture those lips again.
“Smart ass.”
“Rather be a smart ass than a dumb ass,” she giggles, walking away. I reach out and smack at her ass before she gets away, catching a palm full. Em jumps and gives me a dirty look from over her shoulder.
“Later, Z.”
“Bye, baby. You better be here when I get home.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yeah, we will,” I tell her, watching her walk up the stairs.
“Zac,” she calls out, stopping at the landing.
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
“Always.”
It’s been almost six weeks of spending every day and night together. Date nights, barbeques, football games, breakfast in bed, nights in the woods, afternoons on the river. We’re inseparable, just like we were in high school, except this time around, neither of us has a curf
ew and there is no sneaking around involved. Not that I don’t miss sneaking into Zac’s window almost every night. There was always something extra special about climbing up the porch and through that window. Now I just let myself in through the front door, with the key that he slipped on my key ring.
Half of the small amount of my belongings are here, and the other half is all over the floor at the apartment I still kinda live in.
Zac wants me here every night. I won’t lie, I want me here too. It feels right. Every time I look at him I swoon. Every time he touches me I get butterflies. Every time is like the first time all over again.
I’m disgustingly happy.
Standing in Zac’s kitchen, I whip a bowl of batter at the counter, singing along to some song on the radio. I feel settled. Ten years of instability and a life on the move left me feeling wobbly. I was tired.
I’ll always love music. I’ll always have a desire to write lyrics and sing melodies. My guitar will never be far away. But the need to share my voice and my music with the world just isn’t the same. I no longer have that burning need to get out and share it myself. Sharing it will always be a part of me, but the masses no longer need it from me.
I’m happy doing things at a slower place. Happy to be here, in my small town, with Zac.
With a spoonful of cookie dough in my hand, I debate on popping it into my mouth, but I end up plopping it onto the baking sheet. I can lick the bowl later.
Zac’s outside with his brother and Tray, and they’re bucking up a few fallen trees, or something else just as manly. I tried to watch, but Zac sent my “perverted ass” (his words, not mine) back inside. Apparently, I’m just as distracting as he is.
Rolling out another ball of dough, I hear Zac’s phone ring from the table. It rings until it goes to voicemail, then it rings again. Dropping the dough back into the bowl, I walk over and stare down at it, wondering if I should answer it. Are we at the answering each other’s phone portion of our relationship?
The phone rings again. It’s just a number. No name. No picture. Might be important if they keep calling, so I answer it.
“Hello?”
Someone exhales loudly, sounding annoyed. “Of course you would answer. It’s Nadia.” My stomach hallows out at the sound of her voice.