Igniting the Wild Sparks

by Alexander, Ren

  My face involuntarily scrunches in confusion as I’m sucked into a Rodism. “What?”

  He rolls his eyes. “You ought to be sending me a truckload of flowers for being a douche canoe.” He peers into the box. “Isn’t there a card?”

  Tapping my finger on my chin, reveling in the opportunity to torment him, I sneer, “Gee whiz, Rod. I didn’t even think to check. I’m so glad you stopped by and saved the day!”

  “Ha. You’re a regular Ellen DeGeneres. We all know who sent ‘em to you. Let’s not be dense. Our illustrious softball coach is majorly jonesing for you. He can’t even pretend not to worship the ground you walk on. It’s really nauseating.”

  Craning my neck, I aim my ear to the door. “I think Amos is calling you.”

  “Calling me what?”

  I sigh and wave him away. “Goodbye, Rod.”

  As he backs toward the door, he pouts, “Fine. I’m going. So glad you missed me, Hadders. Oh, hey. If you want to give Wilder a speedy bang, there’s a Dumpster in the alley. Don’t worry. I won’t blackmail him by taking pictures and posting his junk everywhere. For now.”

  Regarding him with uncertainty as I shake my head, I ask, “Why am I friends with you?”

  Grabbing onto the metal doorframe, he widely grins while fluffing up his brown hair. “For the witty banter, the phenomenal dancing, and the raw, animalistic sex.” Slowly nodding, he suggestively licks his lips, reminding me of how he licks every bit of ice cream from his mouth instead of using a napkin.

  I cross my arms, holding back a laugh. “In your dreams, sleazebag.”

  His eyes pop open and he drones as if he’s in a trance, “Or my worst nightmare.”

  “Goodbye, Greg.”

  He laughs. “Later, Hadders.”

  After he leaves my office, I call Finn before he has to be on the Air. I don’t expect him to pick up, but he does. “Becks! There you are! I’ve been calling and emailing you! I just emailed you again five minutes ago. Where’ve you been?”

  I counter, “I’ve been calling you!”

  “Becks, that phone… Anyway, we need to talk.”

  “We are talking.” I can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Thank you for the roses. They’re beautiful.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ve been thinking about you. I miss you. I have to leave for a couple days. I’ll be back Saturday; though, I’ll probably miss practice then.” At least I’ll get my time to myself.

  Feeling a weight lifting, I still frown. “Oh. Okay.”

  He sighs. “Baby, I… We really need to talk.”

  “You made yourself perfectly clear and then you mocked me. I understand quite well.”

  He blows out a huff and speaks lower, “No, you apparently don’t. That’s why we need to talk. I’ve been keeping my distance from you because that’s what you want, but this has got to stop. You’ve had enough time, haven’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” I thought I did until he announced that he just doesn’t want to marry me.

  He quietly growls, “Fuck, Becks. Are you kidding? I’m already not allowed to see you during the week and now you won’t talk to me. You can’t do this anymore.”

  I sit down at my desk and lean my head against my hand, loudly whispering, “You’re not helping when you do this!”

  “Helping? You’re not helping by shoving me away.” I hear rustling as Finn turns from the phone and says something to someone. When he returns, he snaps, “I have to go to work. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

  “Sparks.”

  “Don’t. I have to go.” The line goes dead and I’m left listening to the heavy silence.

  He actually hung up on me.

  Tossing my phone down, I hurriedly go online to bring up the live stream of Finn’s broadcast, but have to wait for the commercial break to finish. When they come back, the camera is on Finn. His hair is perfectly styled and he’s wearing a gray suit and a white shirt, accented by a green and gray-striped tie, along with an insta-smile. As I look more closely at the screen, I can see the stress around his eyes, though. Finn Wilder can’t fool me. He’s more than a little wound up. He just hung up on his girlfriend.

  His report is bland, which is not like him. He always charms his viewers with boring scores and highlights. He could read an Arby’s menu and it’d be hot.

  At the gym, Shane is astonishingly pleasant to me, although he does inform me that I’ve lost another two pounds. I still don’t think he grasps the concept of working out to lose weight. How’d he become a personal trainer anyway?

  When I get home, I try to call Sparks, but he doesn’t pick up. He said we really need to talk, yet he won’t hold up his end of the line of communication. He didn’t even tell me where he was going for work.

  Climbing into bed, I wait for him to call back, but he doesn’t. I turn my light off and again cry myself into a restless sleep.

  Lying on a bed, I look around the small room with dark tan walls and a white floor. There is a computer next to the bed with some sort of equipment attached. The room gives off major creepy vibes. When I try moving my arms and legs, straps restrain me.

  “Help! Finn!”

  Suddenly, the door swings open and Rod dashes in. “Hadders, I’ll help you. Please calm down.”

  My panic rises at this bizarre situation and I thrash against the restraints, causing them to dig into my skin. “What’s happening to me? I want Finn! Get me Finn!”

  “It’s okay. He’s here, but he can only stay for a minute.”

  I abruptly stop resisting. “Why?”

  “That’s the way it is.” Rod shrugs before running out the door just as quickly as he came in, leaving me alone again. What is going on here? What’s happening to me?

  A few seconds later, the door slowly opens and Finn walks in, immediately shutting the door behind him. I’m so relieved. “Sparks! You’re here! I need you!”

  Shoving his hands into his black pants pockets, he leisurely walks over to the bed, looking me up and down. “You look like hell.”

  “Finn, help me! Please get me out of here!” I urgently beg him as I fight against the straps.

  He harshly laughs and I promptly look up at him just as he leans over me, propping his hands on either side of my body. His familiar, spicy cologne, the one I bought him that turns me on when only Finn wears it, floats over me. His brown eyes are hard and callous, nothing like the expressive, loving ones I’m used to looking into, and they flash when he lowly states, “You’re nothing but a liar. Why would I even help a bitch like you?”

  This isn’t my Finn Wilder.

  Astonished by how cold he is, I sputter, “I didn’t lie to hurt you! I just didn’t want you to think less of me because I took the Pill! I’m so sorry, Sparks! Please don’t hate me!” I sob. Tears start to seep out of my eyes, blurring my vision, but I can’t wipe them away.

  He laughs, his bright white teeth sparkling against the backdrop of the drab room, yet his face darkens. “You should’ve seen your face when I got down on my knee.” He tilts his head and observes me with false concern. “It was fucking hilarious. You didn’t want to believe how much you wanted to believe it. What a sad conundrum you are.”

  Heaving against the straps, I cry, “Finn!” I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to

  God that this isn’t real.

  When I open my eyes, he’s now closer. His insincere smile curtly disappears and he snaps, “Don’t ever think I’m going to marry you and give you my name. You’re only trying to trap me. Why in the fuck would I want to have a damn kid with you? I can’t even trust you to take a damn pill.” His eyes flare with growing disgust. “You’re getting a little procedure done so I don’t have to worry about impregnating you anymore.”

  Through my cries, I wail, “If you don’t trust me, why are you even with me then?”

  “Because you’re an easy little whore who opens her pussy for me whenever I snap my fingers; although, it is a fucking disgrace you can’t even suck my dick.” I gasp a
nd he nods as an icy smirk creeps onto his face. “But, you are an easy lay. I know the effect I have on you and the rest of the women I screw. You cream when I walk into the room. It’s great because I can fuck you anytime, any way I want, and I don’t even have to leave money on your nightstand when I leave.” He cruelly laughs to which I cry harder. “That’s damn convenient.”

  To escape, I close my eyes, but that doesn’t stop him from viciously prodding, “You actually think I’m in love with you?” He again disdainfully laughs, and all I can do is to turn my head. However, that gives him instant access to my ear and he persistently whispers, “You’re even more fucking delusional than I thought. I don’t love you. As I matter of fact, I hate you, Hadley Beckett. You make me want to jump off the New River without a parachute. Meeting your sorry ass in this very hospital ruined my fucking life.”

  I violently awake in a flustered sweat, shaking and crying. Panicked, I glance around my bedroom to gain my bearings. That, by far, was the worst and most vivid nightmare yet. I could smell his scent and taste his hatred.

  Does he really feel that way about me? Is that his deepest, darkest secret? Is he really only using me for sex while hating me at the same time? How can he have sex with me if he can’t stand me? Even though I have doubts, that doesn’t seem like something Finn would ever do.

  I eventually get up to change my damp shirt and drink a glass of water. After that dream, I can’t get back to sleep, so I turn on the TV, but find myself mindlessly staring at it. Does Finn dream about me? Does he even miss me as much as I miss him? He says he never cries, but would Finn Wilder ever cry for me?

  On Friday, since Finn isn’t at the station to host The Wild Side, they play his recent dare at the racetrack. He looks sexy in the black driving suit they gave him to put on. His scruffy baby face and messy, golden bronze hair make me tingle. Finn got to race around the track, which he obviously had a blast doing from the constant smile he sports afterward. He also interviewed some of the drivers and flirted with a few of his Finnatics on camera. One even asked to see his new tattoo. He politely declined, saying it’s difficult to take his suit off with the mic on. Is that the truth or did he just not want to show it off?

  After showing his dare, the team’s interviews at the ball field follows. Our interview comes up and shockingly, he left everything in, even the second kiss. He’s actually showing his Finnatics him kissing a woman. Me. I thought I had kissed him first, but after watching it, I may be wrong. My heart starts to race like the car he drove, and incredibly swelling with love for him.

  When the broadcast returns to the studio, Darren Matthews is initially speechless. He turns to Clare Weekly, a meteorologist. “Did that just happen? Did we just see Finn making out with one of his softball players?”

  “Darren, if you were paying attention that was his girlfriend. You know, the one he got his tattoo for?”

  “Well, I guess I figured that. I just didn’t expect to see him put it on display like that.”

  “Why not? It’s daring of him. Apparently, they’ve been together a long time. It’s nice to see him finally admitting he’s in a relationship.”

  “I thought he had 10 girlfriends, not one.”

  “I knew he had eyes for only one woman. I could tell he’s in love.”

  “No way, Clare. He’s a huge flirt. I honestly am still shocked.”

  “Not me. He’s a really nice guy. Let’s get one last look at the forecast.”

  My eyes glaze over and I swipe at them. Reaching for my phone, I try calling Finn, unsure of where he even is, but he again doesn’t answer or call me back.

  Saturday morning, I help Val at the rummage sale before we have practice. It’s a roaring success, so far. I try to have fun and meet new people, but my mind is on Finn. Though a small part of me fears seeing him after that nightmare, I miss him and I hate being away from him.

  If this is what it feels like because I can’t handle not getting married, then I don’t want it.

  I want my Sparks.

  An hour before practice, I go home and change into a pink T-shirt and black sweats. I check my phone, but Finn still didn’t call. At least, I think he didn’t. Apparently, my phone now has a vendetta for me. Finn and Rod are right. I need to upgrade.

  “Hadley’s here!” Morgan shouts when I walk over. Cara stands in front of the group, holding Finn’s clipboard. Just Cara? No Ricky to save us? Off to the side of the field, Reed and Milo are filming, which seems like the only connection I have to Finn.

  Cara announces, “Okay. Today we’re going to play the field and take turns at bat. When you’re done batting, you’ll temporarily take the vacant position and allow someone else to take a turn, unless there’s another person who wants to fill it, since there are some extra people. Crick and Rod will switch off. Got it?” She sounds super bored. We nod and drone a collective yes. “The only person not here is Brandon. Anyone want to fill his position?”

  “I will,” I volunteer, attempting to be somewhat of a team player.

  Cara tosses me a fleeting look and nods, glancing back down at the clipboard. “Great. Rhonda, will you take left field then?”

  “Sure.”

  Cara listlessly sighs and says, “Okay. Let’s get out there and warm up.”

  “Hadders at shortstop. How fitting,” Rod declares, throwing his arm around me. “We’ll have to change the position’s name to shortstuff.”

  I elbow him in the side and fail at keeping a straight face. “Ass.” He hugs me to him before shoving me away.

  We warm up for about 15 minutes when Cara indifferently tells us to take our positions, and for one of us to come in to bat. Val volunteers first. Way to be a shining star example, Val.

  Taking my place at short top, I can’t help but grin. This is great. Only if Bethany was at third instead of Shasta. That was the best. We were such a team.

  Val hits the ball to Crick, who sweepingly scoops the grounder and hurdles it to first.

  “Well, darn it!” Val grouses with a laugh and letting the bat she’s holding wilt to the ground. I smile at her, but my initial enthusiasm of being in the infield is already wearing off, my longing for Finn smacking me head-on. I need to see him tonight… if he still wants to see me.

  Shasta takes her turn and hits a fly ball in my direction. I run up and easily catch it. Everyone cheers, except for a frowning Shasta. I give her a quick, apologetic smile and scurry back to my position, not feeling sorry at all, but rather, slightly awkward of my surge of pride from a coworker’s shortcoming. Even if it’s Shasta.

  Rod then strides to the mound so Crick can bat. He takes the ball from Crick and pops the ball in the air a couple times instead of having a few practice throws with our catcher, Amos. As Crick puts on a helmet, Rod tosses the ball into the air and glances over at me, smirking as he catches the ball without looking. Show off. I smile back at him and try again to concentrate on what’s going on.

  Taking a handful of swings before he steps up to the plate, Crick hits the ball to the outfield and Gloria runs after it, but not before Crick is able to round second. She throws the ball to Shasta, who drops it. She recovers it, but Crick makes it to third before she can tag him out.

  Rhonda takes her turn, shaking her ass a little too much as she gets into her batting stance. Does Rod even notice her at all because she’s putting on a great show just for him. After four pitches, she finally takes one and makes it to first.

  Then Gloria warily steps up, looking quite unsure what to do with a bat. Holy shit, we’ll be here all day. From the pitcher’s mound, Rod yells, “Come on, G Thang!” Gloria laughs, probably unaware of where that name came from. It takes six tries for her to hit a slow grounder to Rod. Rod runs up, grabs the ball and wings it to Grant. Gloria never had a snowball’s chance.

  From one of the benches, Cara monotonously yells for Rod to go next. He hands the ball to Crick before going in to put on a helmet and to grab a bat. With an expression similar to his serious dancing face, he insta
ntly crouches at the plate, ready for action. Crick lobs the first pitch and Rod swings, but misses. Pissed, he cusses and steps back, now deciding to take a few practice swings.

  I sigh and stare at the dirt beneath my feet, really not wanting to be here. I’d rather go to Finn’s and wait for him to get home. He said he wants to talk, and we need to. What will he say? What will I say? Is there anything left to even say? Will he break up with me for being a neurotic bitch to him like he said I was in my dream?

  The crack of the bat urges me to pay attention, but it’s too late. The ball sails in a line drive and slams me in the abdomen, throwing me backward. As if in slow motion, I fly through the air before landing on my back. Automatically, I curl into a ball and roll to my side as the pain shoots throughout my stomach and ribs, barely being able to breathe as I gasp for air.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Hadley!” I hear Rod yell, followed by the metallic thud of his bat before running over, nearly falling on top of me. “Oh, God! I’m so sorry!”

  Vaguely, between my moans, I hear Morgan shout amid the other pounding feet approaching. Val squats next to me. “Babe, can you move?”

  “No, it hurts,” I cry and wheeze.

  Rod rubs my arm. “Jesus! I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

  “Becks!”

  My favorite nickname, coming from that voice.

  I lift my head to see Finn hurriedly sliding into the dirt next to me. Everyone parts to give him room. “You’re here,” I rasp, and he takes my hand.

  “Yeah, baby, I’m here. I just got to the field. Where’d the ball hit you?”

  “My right side.”

  Val strokes my forehead. “I think you should go to the hospital,”

  “I just need a minute.” A wave of dread washes over me.

  This is like my Easter nightmare.

  I bring my hand up from my stomach, but don’t see blood. “Am I bleeding?”