Simple

by Toler, B N

  “Wait a sec, Emalee,” I called to her. “Don’t leave.”

  I ran into the barn and found Bailor staring out the back door at the field, his arms crossed. “Emalee needs a ride,” I said. “It’s about to pour buckets.”

  “Looks like hail,” he said as if he hadn’t heard me. “The crop can’t take much more,” he mumbled. The heat had already taken its toll, and while we needed the rain, hail was never good, especially not this close to harvest. The ice balls could be as big as baseballs and knock the heads right of the stems of wheat.

  “They weren’t calling for it on the news,” I countered. “Emalee needs a lift. She shouldn’t bike home in this weather.”

  He rubbed his face, attempting to wipe away the anxiety he was feeling and turned away from the field. “So give her a ride,” he stated frankly, sounding irritated as he picked up a box by the back door.

  I shook my head adamantly. “No, you take her.”

  Bailor tossed down the box he’d just lifted, clearly frustrated.

  “What’s eating you?” I snorted.

  He turned to face me, annoyance capturing his features. “I’m busy, Cole. Stop being a baby and take her home.”

  “I’m not taking her,” I asserted. “I have things to do, and I don’t have time to entertain some bored city girl following me around like a lost puppy.”

  Bailor let his body sag much like a toddler would just before a melt down and twisted his face, poking his lip out. “Oh, poor Cole Kepner. A pretty girl with tons of personality likes him.” Holding his fists to his face, he twisted them at the corners of his eyes like he was crying.

  “You’re such an ass, Bailor,” I grumbled. A crack of thunder rolled across the sky and the wind picked up as I walked out of the barn, but when I looked around, Emalee was nowhere to be seen.

  “Shit,” I huffed as I rushed to the truck. She’d left. As I sped down the driveway the sky opened up. She’d made it a mile down the road by the time I caught up to her, and she was moving at a pretty good pace, despite the downpour.

  The wind shifted, sending the rain sideways, causing her to wobble all over the road. If I hadn’t been specifically looking for her, I probably would have hit her. I honked the horn as I pulled in front of her and stopped, forcing her to stop too. Cutting the engine, I rushed out, driven by agitation. “Get in the truck. Now!” I demanded over the sound of the rain. I grabbed the bike from her grasp, pointing at the truck with my free hand for emphasis. I was in no mood for her to argue with me. Not after seeing her now-translucent dress clinging to every curve.

  By the time I wrestled her bike into the bed of the truck and climbed back in the cab, I was just as soaked as her.

  I ran a hand over my head, dragging as much of the water out of it as I could before looking at her, her lower lip quivering as she shivered. I wanted to yell at her. Tell her what an idiot she was, but I kept my cool. The point was she was safe. I just needed to get her home and get away from her. Gripping the steering wheel with my left hand I turned the ignition with the other.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “Son of a bitch,” I shouted as I smacked the steering wheel. The battery was dead.

  Now we were stuck in the truck in the rain. Together. It felt as if the universe was testing me and my will to stay away from her. Losing my composure I yelled, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Her mouth fell open in shock as her eyes bulged. “Me?” she asked, her tone just as irritated as mine. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  I laughed humorlessly at her feigned ignorance. “What moron tries to outrun a monsoon on a bicycle?”

  “Are you calling me a moron?” she scoffed in disbelief.

  “I told you to wait,” I growled through clenched teeth.

  It was her turn to laugh humorlessly. “Oh, you mean wait until you and Bailor settled who would take home the,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “bored city girl following you around like a lost puppy?”

  I winced.

  Turning forward with a scowl, she crossed her arms over her chest. I fixed my stare on the steering wheel, my knuckles white I was gripping it so hard. The entire dynamic between us was exhausting. Avoiding her hadn’t seemed to deter her. Being friendly with her wasn’t working either. So I decided to try to be honest.

  “Emalee,” I said calmer than I felt. “I know you have a thing for me.”

  She slowly turned her head toward me, her eyes wide, and cheeks flushed. “I do not,” she protested. I turned and looked her right in the eyes. She pointed at me. “Your ego is—” I grabbed her wrist and held it firmly, silencing her. I’d embarrassed her and she was hell bent on saving her dignity.

  “Stop. You’re not a liar.”

  Holding my stare for a moment, she growled before she jerked her arm away. She wasn’t going to tell me I was right, that she really did have a crush on me, but she wouldn’t deny it.

  Drops of water cascaded down her chest, disappearing into the swells of her breasts. Tearing my eyes away, I closed them and took in a deep breath. “I can’t go there with you. We can’t…” I motioned between us hoping she’d understand.

  “Why not?” she asked, her previous anger seeming to have dialed down.

  I sighed. I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I did my best every day to shut that off so I could survive what was to come. “Because I can’t let go of one more thing I want. I can’t lose one more person I love. My father. My mother.” I swallowed the emotion knotted in my throat. College, my dreams, our family farm…I finished in my head. “I just can’t fall for you knowing I’ll have to let you go, too.”

  Her gaze found mine again. “Who says you’d have to?”

  I dropped my head. I didn’t judge her for her naivete. “You’re leaving, Emalee. The tour. Singing. Remember?”

  “I won’t be on tour for the rest of my life, Cole. And maybe you could come with me at some point after…” She paused, choosing not to finish her thought. She was about to say after my mother passed away.

  She still didn’t get it.

  “I’m not good for you. There’s so much more out there than this; than the cards my family’s been dealt. You’ve got a chance to live. To really live. Can’t you see…I’m bent. Life has twisted me so much that even if I manage to straighten myself out again, the kinks will always be there. I know you think I’m what you want, but I’m not and after some time, once you’re gone, you’ll see that.”

  She looked out the passenger window for a few moments before turning her back toward me, her stare fixed on the steering wheel. “I understand what you’re saying…and you’re right. This would have to end at some point, but…” her tongue darted out over her lips “…I’m more afraid of spending the rest of my life wondering what if than saying goodbye to you. I’m only here a short time in this town,” she peeked at me, “and I want to spend every minute of what’s left of it with you.”

  I gripped the steering wheel tighter, calling on all of my will. I could not give into her, no matter how badly I wanted to.

  Suddenly she sprang from her seat and climbed in my lap. It happened so fast I couldn’t do anything to stop her before she pressed her mouth to mine. I grabbed her hips and pushed, trying to detach her, but she had my head in her hands and tightened her grip, pressing harder. I fought to tighten my lips, to fend her off, but when I felt her tongue graze my mouth, the fight seeped out of me as she threaded her fingers in my hair. Her lips were soft, and for a short time, I forgot everything.

  When the rain finally let up an hour or so later, my lips were swollen and the air inside the truck was humid.

  Sunlight streamed in, refracting off the remnants of rain on the windshield and creating thousands of tiny rainbows on every surface. We finally pulled apart as if awakened from a dream, holding each other’s gaze. Cole’s cheeks were rosy, his hair disheveled from me running my hands through it.

  I pleaded with my gaze for him to say something—anything—desperately nee
ding him to be the first to speak.

  His eyes were soft as he watched me, and for the briefest moment I saw Cole Kepner forget all the reasons he couldn’t let me in. But the wall went back up when his gaze left mine, and disappointment sunk its dagger in my chest. Stubborn. He was going to pretend like it hadn’t meant anything to him. Or maybe he would admit to himself that it did, but he’d throw it into his pile of never-can-happens.

  Life might have given him a front row seat to a real shit-show, but I refused to believe he could uphold this celibacy of happiness for life. What we’d just shared—it felt good. So good. I knew he’d felt it too.

  “Men have suffered far more from imagining too little than too much,” I told him quietly as I studied his face. He looked confused but I didn’t bother to explain. It was a quote from Waterloo Bridge. Another of Constance’s favorites. Cole was hell bent on bearing the cross of his family’s suffering. I couldn’t deny he had every reason to feel jaded, and maybe even hopeless, but it still broke my heart.

  I climbed off his lap and situated myself in the passenger seat. Pushing himself up in his seat he cleared his throat before attempting to fire up the engine again, but it still refused to start.

  “I’ll have to walk back to the farm. Do you think now that the rain has cleared, you’d be okay to ride your bike home?”

  I blinked in shock as anger threw jabs at my heart like it was a punching bag.

  That’s it?

  That’s all he had to say after we’d just made out for an hour?

  Humiliation surged through me and morphed into anger. I leapt from the truck and slammed the door as hard as I could. I hadn’t expected him to profess his undying love for me, but to act like nothing had happened at all was cold. In seconds I was behind the truck, pulling the tailgate down.

  “I’ll get the bike for you,” he said as he rushed to me.

  “Don’t worry about it, Cole. I got it,” I snapped as I climbed into the bed of the truck and stood Pinky up. I’d humiliated myself. What was I thinking? He climbed up after me and grabbed the handle of the bike.

  “Let me put it down for you,” he said, yanking the bike away from me.

  “No, thank you.” I yanked it back.

  His eyes widened slightly before he pulled the bike from me, swung it around and leaned over the side of the bed to set it on the ground, his expression childishly victorious when he turned back. I rolled my eyes, about to let him know just how immature he was when he slipped on the oil-water mixture coating the truck-bed. Unable to stabilize himself, he crashed into me, taking us both down. I took the brunt of the fall as we hit the bed hard and Cole’s weight landed on top of me.

  “Oof,” I let out as my back made contact. Cole clumsily forced himself up, his eyes wide and riddled with concern.

  “Oh damn, I’m so sorry, Emalee. Are you okay?” He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, straddling me as he inspected me. I adjusted a little and winced.

  “Just lay still for a moment,” Cole instructed me. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

  His face was just above mine, his green eyes fixed on me. Despite the pain in my back, the way we were positioned, combined with the genuine concern in his gaze, the proximity of his mouth to mine stirred something in my belly. My chest rose and fell as my breathing quickened, my body seeming to bow toward him. His hair was still damp, loose around his face and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching up and pushing it away from his eyes.

  He tensed, but his gaze never left mine. Stop fighting me, I silently begged. Maybe he saw the plea in my gaze, or he’d decided on his own, but it happened. The wall fell. It didn’t crash down; it was more like a curtain being untied, a soft release of his will drifting slowly down until there was nothing between us. In the few seconds after, defeat played out in his gaze, and I watched as he silently scolded himself for being weak. He cupped my face with his hand, letting his thumb glide across my cheek before dipping his head and pressing his lips to mine. As his mouth moved against mine, he lowered to cover my body with his. I clutched the back of his shirt in my fists as he settled between my legs, letting most of his weight rest on me.

  This kiss was different than what we’d shared inside of the truck. Before there had been trepidation on his part; now, there was no holding back. We were diving in to something we knew had an expiration date, and even though we both knew the inevitable sting to come, we submerged ourselves neck deep in it anyway.

  Cole jerked away at the sound of a horn and popped up, looking to see who it was. The color drained from his face as he pushed up to his feet. My back protested as I moved to sit up, a hiss escaping me as I managed to prop myself up with my elbows.

  “Who is it?” I asked, my view blocked by Cole’s body.

  Cole blinked a few times as he expelled a long breath through his nose. “It’s your mom and dad.”

  Bailor couldn’t stop laughing, and even when he wasn’t actually laughing, his face was red and tight with a grin. “You had to make me take her home,” I grumbled at him as I pulled the old battery from the truck. After Emalee had left with her parents, I’d walked back to the house and Bailor had driven us back to my truck, then followed me into town after giving it a jump to get a new battery.

  “Damn, Cole. Only something like that would happen to you,” he chuckled as he tinkered with something under the hood.

  The afternoon had been a rollercoaster to say the least. I’d seesawed so many times with regard to Emalee that I was feeling mentally strained. After we’d kissed in the truck, I’d done my best to shut down. It had felt good—too good. I couldn’t let myself absorb that or I’d never be able to keep her at arm’s length again. I’d made a decision not let Emalee in. I couldn’t. It was not happening. But then we’d fallen in the bed of the truck, and as I hovered above her, I’d never felt so terrible in my life knowing I’d hurt her. Yes, it had been an accident, but that hadn’t mattered. I never wanted to be the reason any harm came to her. Her gaze was so soft and inviting, and as she stared up at me, something in me broke. We’d been playing tug-of-war all summer, and though I’d thought I’d had it well in hand, smile-by-smile, inch-by-inch she’d somehow completely yanked the rope from my hands. The voices were still there, reminding me this was one more thing I’d lose—one more dream that would turn to ash—but they’d all been dulled to white noise. I’d take the here and now and deal with the consequences later. I’d battled the universe—the universe won.

  “So…her dad?” Bailor questioned as he turned to face me. “He was pissed, huh?”

  I’m pretty sure Emalee’s father had been trying to shrink me out of existence with his glare. I knew it had looked bad from her parents’ perspective, like we were messing around in the bed of my truck, but that hadn’t technically been the case, at least not intentionally.

  “Luckily, her mother was there and tried to buffer the tension and awkwardness, but I think even she was a little miffed about it.” Betty had always been kind to me, but I knew as a parent it had to be hard to catch your daughter—your only daughter—in a compromising position, no matter how kind or cool you were. “Her dress was covered in dirt and oil from laying in the bed of the truck.” I scratched the back of my neck. “It looked bad.”

  Bailor slapped my back a few times. “It’ll be fine. Emalee is eighteen tomorrow, so at least she’s legal,” he joked. “The whole tough-dad act is just par for the course. You might have a daughter one day and you’ll feel the same way.”

  I grimaced at his mention of having children one day, but let it drop. “I’m not his biggest fan, either, so I’m not sweating it too much,” I snorted.

  “What does that mean?” Bailor asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, dismissively. It wasn’t my place to divulge what had happened after the festival, even to my brother.

  Bailor shrugged not pushing for more information. “We should make your girlfriend a cake or something for her birthday.”

  My head reared back. Girlfriend.
Is that what she was? My familiar friends Doom and Gloom perked up, eager to remind me what a terrible idea it would be to let Emalee get close to me. I was still reeling from the events of the day and hadn’t realized that though nothing was said, my actions had very much indicated to Emalee that I wanted to be with her.

  “Chill, Cole. Calling her your girlfriend doesn’t mean you’re engaged or anything.” He inhaled deeply as if I was being dramatic. “You are such a spaz. Just have fun. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Then twisting his face he said in a deep voice, “It isn’t the worst crime. Men have suffered far more from imagining too little than too much.”

  I narrowed my gaze at him, confused. Emalee had said the same thing in the truck just hours before. “What?”

  Bailor laughed it off. “It’s from that notebook Emalee’s been writing movie quotes in. It’s one of Mom’s favorites.”

  I wasn’t one to believe in signs, but the fact that they’d both quoted the same movie line to me on the same day seemed meaningful. Clearing my throat, I said, “You got this? I’m going to go clean up.” I didn’t wait for him to answer.

  My parents happening upon Cole and me didn’t go over well with my father. He was so angry, the vein in his forehead was hulked out and looked like it might burst at any moment. He jammed Pinky into the trunk, the front wheel sticking out and preventing it from closing, before demanding I get in the car.

  “It’s not what it looks like, Daddy,” I tried to explain as the four of us stood between the car and truck.

  “Emalee, get in the car now!” he boomed. I think my eyebrows might have touched my hairline, I raised them so high. Even if Cole and I had been doing something wrong, which we hadn’t been, I was eighteen. He couldn’t treat me like a little girl.

  “Dad—”

  “Emalee, get in the car,” my mother intervened, her voice far calmer than my father’s. In her eyes I could see she was trying to tell me to just listen; this wasn’t the time to plead my case. I glanced up at Cole, frowning apologetically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”