by Gemma Weir
From the very little I know about him, Kent and I don’t really have that much in common. He’s a sophomore, he’s already declared his major as math with a statistics focus, and he lives in the dorms with a roommate called Devon. I’m a freshman who loves books but has absolutely no idea what I want to major in or do for the rest of my life.
“So what made you decide to come to Hayhurst?” Kent asks, thankfully breaking the silence and the chaotic ramblings of my inner thoughts.
I wanted to go to a school far enough away from home that no one here would have any idea who I was. But it turns out me and my friends are so codependent, that we all secretly applied to the same schools so we could stay together, I think, but thankfully don’t say aloud.
“We made a pro/con list for all the schools we got accepted to, and Hayhurst came out on top. We actually took a road trip out to see the campus and we all fell in love with the place.” I tell him.
“A road trip sounds fun. I came and did the campus tour with my folks. We toured like eight schools.”
“Are you close with your parents?” I ask.
“Really close. They hate that I’m so far away, but Hayhurst is my dad’s alma mater so he was pretty stoked that I decided to come here.”
The easy conversation makes me relax and by the time the server brings our food I’m starting to enjoy myself.
“Is Emmy short for anything?” Kent asks, cutting into his steak.
“Nope, it’s just Emmy. My brother’s name is Phoenix, so although Emmy is a little unusual, I’m kind of glad I got the relatively normal name.”
Kent laughs and I take the moment to enjoy how cute he is in his white oxford, blue tie and blue cardigan. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a real-life guy in a cardigan before, but with his preppy style he totally pulls it off. Kent is put together in a way I’m not used to. Zeke and Griffin are hot in an athletic, rugged way, and Valentine exudes angry bad boy. My family are all about the biker chic and the guys I went to school with were more country than country club. But I think I like Kent’s look, it’s definitely different and different is exactly what I’m looking for.
The food is good, the company better, and when our dessert plates are empty, we agree to split the check and get ready to leave. As I place my cash down on top of Kent’s, a frisson of excitement rushes through me.
To some girls going Dutch would feel like an insult, but to me, a guy not insisting he pay is kind of awesome. Even when we go out as a group, the guys almost always pay for everything, refusing any money that Nova and I try to put in, and it drives us crazy. I have my own money; I definitely don’t need a man to pay for me, and honestly it just feels like an archaic tradition that annoys the crap out of me.
If I was in a relationship, like a serious relationship, then it wouldn’t matter who put the cash down, because our money would be ours, not mine or his. But this is a first date, and I refuse to start anything, even a friendship, with someone who thinks they have to coddle me because I’m not capable of looking after myself.
We leave the restaurant and Kent motions for me to lead the way. The smile that spreads across my face is so wide I think I might hurt myself. This is exactly why I know that a biker isn’t for me. No self-respecting Sinner would take his old lady out and not pay; no way would he walk behind, letting her potentially step first into danger—even though ninety-nine percent of the time there’s no danger to worry about. My dad and every single one of my uncles worship the ground their wives walk on; they smother them with love and adoration and protect them with an intensity that’s beautiful but also ridiculous.
My mom and aunts tolerate their caveman behavior and I just don’t get it. How can they stand to have their guys turn up at every girl’s night, just to make sure no one hits on them? How can they tolerate being told what to do and ordered around? How does it not make them want to run in the opposite direction of the insane claustrophobic love?
I asked Mom about it once and she just smiled and told me that it drove her mad, but that she loved the intensity with which my dad loves her. That when I fell for someone, truly fell in love, I’d understand, and instead of resenting their obsessive possessiveness, I’d cherish that intensity. A part of me thinks she could be right, but the majority of me knows she’s not, that I never want a man to feel that way about me.
When we exit the restaurant, Kent walks by my side, his khakis still unwrinkled. I watch surreptitiously as he lifts his hand, then lets it drop to his side, only to lift it again a moment later. My brow furrows as I try to decide what he’s doing. Is he talking himself into something? Taking my hand maybe?
We reach the car before I can figure out what exactly it was he was doing and I open the passenger door and climb in while he walks around to the driver’s side and settles into the seat. He glances at me and smiles shyly before he presses the engine start button and the car burbles to life. I’ve got nothing against Mercedes, in fact this one is very nice and still has that new car smell, but the biker’s daughter in me internally weeps over the fact that the engine is so quiet you can barely even hear it. A wave of homesickness washes over me as I think about riding on my dad’s bike or in my mom’s beautiful Comet and listening to the rumble of the engine beneath the hot Texas sun.
It might not be what I want my future to look like, but it was a good life and sometimes I let my yearning for something more push those good memories aside. I lose myself in thoughts of the wind in my hair, asphalt rushing beneath me, and the freedom and adventure that’s always there on the back of a bike.
Pulled back to the present, I take a moment to look at the boy driving the silent car and wonder if he plans to kiss me tonight. It won’t be my first kiss, that went to Griffin when we were eleven. I smile unbidden at the memory that only feels like it was weeks, not years ago. We’d been at the club at a BBQ or some event, I don’t really remember. He’d grabbed my hand and pulled me along, laughing as we ran behind the clubhouse to the yard at the back.
I’d let him drag me behind him, happy to go on whatever adventure he’d got planned. Only instead of climbing on the roof, or sneaking into the barn or Grandpop’s office, he’d pulled me close.
“This is our future, Emmy. This place will be ours when we’re older,” he’d said.
I’d laughed, thinking it was silly to think about being grown up. Then he’d leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I’d been so shocked I just stood there and let him kiss me, right up until he pushed his tongue into my mouth, then I’d tentatively kissed him back.
My cheeks heat as I think about that day, that kiss, the way he’d pulled back and looked at me with such intensity that I’d worried he’d never be my friend again. That’s how Zeke had found us, our lips pressed together, Griff’s arm holding me tightly. He shouted so loud, we’d lurched apart and I’d run away, confused and flustered as the boys yelled at each other.
Still to this day neither of them have ever told me what happened after I ran, but I know they refused to speak to each other for a week and both had cuts on their knuckles and bruises on their faces.
That was the first and only time I’ve ever been kissed. Until today… maybe.
The car journey goes too fast and I’m still lost in my memories when we pull up to the curb outside the house. I pause, waiting for him to turn off the engine and open his door, only he doesn’t. I wasn’t planning to invite him in, but the fact that he doesn’t even plan to walk me to my front door irks me a little.
“I had a nice time tonight,” I say, my voice laced with uncertainty as I unclip my seatbelt and reach down for my purse.
“I had a good time too.” Kent says, barely glancing at me.
I smile, but it feels a little strained. “I should go in,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at the house behind me.
“Okay.”
Disappointment seeps into me. I like Kent. I thought he liked me too, but instead of kissing me, he’s sending me on my way without even turning off the engine of the car
. How did I get this so wrong? Twisting in my seat, I pull the handle and open the car door, climbing out as quickly as I can.
“Emmy,” Kent calls.
A surge of something that feels a lot like hope bursts to life and I lean down into the car.
“Don’t forget your cardigan,” he says with a smile, pointing at my cardigan still on the car seat.
“Thanks,” I say, barely holding in my grimace as I grab the soft wool and pull it to my chest, slamming the door behind me. Inhaling sharply, I roll back my shoulders and strut up the path to my front door, adding a little swing to my hips like I’ve seen my mom do a hundred times before.
What the hell just happened? I might be inexperienced with men, but seriously. After a rough start the rest of the date went well, then that. He didn’t even turn off the engine, just sat at the curb with it idling and drove away before I even opened my door.
What a douche!
God, listen to me. I’m applauding that I got to pay for half my dinner, then moaning that he didn’t walk me to the door; double standards or what? I’m the worst feminist in the world, but the truth is that I’m disappointed. I thought, oh I’m not sure what I thought, but obviously I was wrong.
For a moment I just stand and stare at the front door, actually questioning if I did something wrong. Then I mentally slap myself for assuming I did something wrong. If he’s not interested then that’s his loss, I’m a catch, I internally mock. A bubble of laughter spills from my lips as I push the door open and walk into the house. I can hear the TV on in the living room, so I kick off my shoes and walk toward the noise. Nova is in Valentine’s lap, with Griff and Zeke at either end of the couch while they all watch some action movie on the TV. When they hear me, they turn as one and four sets of eyes stare at me with a mixture of excitement, intrigue, and… sadness?
Before I get a chance to question those looks, Nova jumps up from her spot and rushes toward me, an excited grin spread across her face. When she reaches me, she grabs my arms and shakes me. “So how was it? Tell me everything. Starting with why you didn’t tell me you were going on a date and why none of us have ever heard you mention this guy before.”
I sigh, wishing I could disappear and hide in my room with my book. In my books no one has bad dates that end in the guy practically running away at the end of the night. For a moment I resent her being here, all of them being here to witness this. If I’d gone to Dartmouth like I’d planned, they would never know about my disastrous date. They wouldn’t know anything about my life.
“Oh no,” Nova gasps, pulling me back to the moment and away from my mean and unnecessary thoughts. “What happened?”
Her eyes soften at my sigh and I remember why I’m in Alabama with my best friends and not on the east coast on my own. Nova experiences my highs and lows alongside me, just like I do for her and for the boys too. These people are my family and they celebrate my joy and commiserate my sadness as if it were their own. We’re all here together because when it comes down to it, we don’t want to be alone in the big bad world. We all crave the support and unending love we have always given each other.
Denying my first instinct to retreat into my own head and hide in my bedroom, I let her drag me to the couch and smile as she shoos Zeke over so she can pull me down to sit next to her.
“Was it bad? I’m so sorry, sweetie. In future you need to have a code word, then if it’s terrible or the guy is a dud, you can just text one of us and we’ll know to call you and fake an emergency so you can leave.”
A laugh bursts from me. “That’s not a real thing, people only do that in the movies.”
She waves me off dismissively, “Stop stalling. What happened? Why was it bad?”
“It wasn’t bad. In fact, it was good, or at least it was once I explained who the three meathead idiots circling him when he came to pick me up were.”
“We’re not meatheads,” Zeke protests.
“Shush,” Nova hisses at her brother. “So if it was good, why do you look perplexed and sad?”
“I’m not perplexed,” I argue.
She silences me with an arched eyebrow.
“Okay, so maybe I am. After the showdown at the house it was super awkward. He drove us to dinner and when we got to the table, I really thought it was going to be a total disaster. I told him about you guys and our family. Obviously not who we are or the club or anything, just you know, that we’re really close and that we decided to all go to school here together. Then it was good; we ate, we chatted, and it all seemed to be going really well. He’s really sweet, an only child, a math major, and this is his sophomore year. We had dessert, then we split the bill.”
“OHHHHH,” Griff and Zeke hiss in unison, interrupting me.
“What?”
“He let you pay half the bill,” Zeke says, outrage clear in his tone.
“Yeah, so? This is 2019, asshole, women pay their own way,” I growl.
“Em, I get that. I’m totally a feminist, woman are powerful equals. I’d wear the t-shirt. But a guy asks you out on a date then he should pay. That’s just how it is.” Zeke growls.
I look to Griffin, then Valentine and find them both nodding in agreement. “You guys are cavemen. That’s not how it should be. I’m more than happy to pay my share of the bill.”
“Okay, whatever,” Nova says impatiently. “What happened after that?”
“Nothing happened.”
“What?” She squeaks.
“Exactly! That’s the thing. Nothing happened. He drove me home, pulled up outside the house, and I got out and left.”
Her brow wrinkles in confusion. “Did you freak?”
I scoff. “No, I didn’t freak. I told him I had a great time, he agreed, then I got out of the car and left.”
“He didn’t try to kiss you?”
“Nope.”
“Did you give him the chance, or did you bolt out of the car?”
“I gave him chance! He barely looked in my direction. He kept the engine running and then drove off when I stepped onto the porch.”
“Oh,” she says, her lips falling into a frown, as sympathy fills her eyes.
Groaning, I let my head fall back against the couch. “This is why I don’t date.”
“Fuck him. If he’s too much of an idiot to realize he should he worshipping at your feet, he’s not good enough for you anyway.” Valentine says, his voice sincere.
“Urgh, you have to say stuff like that,” I moan, rubbing at my temples with my fingertips.
“He’s saying it because it’s true, shortcake. You’re perfect, and if that preppy little motherfucker can’t see that, then it’s because he’s not the guy for you.” Griff growls.
What are the laws surrounding murdering stupid little assholes in Alabama? I don’t give a fuck. Whatever the consequences, I’ll deal if I get a chance to get my hands on the stupid fucking bastard who took out my girl and then ditched her at the curb like a fucking whore.
Hell no. Hell fucking no.
It was bad enough that we had no idea she was going on a date with this kid. She hasn’t said a thing, and now this. He didn’t open her car door, we watched; he didn’t pay for their meal. He’s so stupid, he doesn’t even know how much a gem he just made feel like shit.
I’m going to kill him; I’m going to fucking kill him.
My anger is barely hidden beneath the surface of my skin and I’m two seconds away from losing my shit completely and kidnapping her to keep her in my room and away from jackasses who shouldn’t be touching her anyway.
I’m losing her. I can see it happening in slow motion. The girls she’s made friends with sound okay. She’s been out with them a couple of times, although she still hasn’t introduced them to us. But now this guy. He’s skinny and he was wearing a tie for fuck’s sake. It’s a Wednesday night and he’s wearing a tie.
His Mercedes was pretty sweet, but I bet it was an auto. Everyone knows real men drive stick if they don’t ride a bike. I hate the stupid mothe
rfucker.
He can’t have her. I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her.
My cell starts ringing and I lift my head from the couch, eyeing my purse on the coffee table. “I should get that,” I say, dragging my purse toward me and pulling my cell from it. “It’s Kent,” I say aloud to the room.
Nova claps. “Answer it.”
“Don’t answer it,” Zeke spits. “He had his chance, he blew it. Block his number, he’s a pussy.”
“I should answer it, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” Nova says, at the same time the guys all say, “No,” in unison.
I stare at my cell for a long moment, then on impulse I hit answer. “Hello.”
“I’m sorry,” Kent says, before I even finish speaking.
I swallow, not entirely sure what to say.
“I’m so sorry. I panicked and I was an asshole and I’m so fucking sorry.”
Swallowing, I lift my gaze and find four sets of eyes watching me as they listen intently.
“Emmy?” Kent asks and I realize I haven’t actually spoken yet.
“I’m here,” I say, turning away from my audience and walking into the kitchen.
“Did I ruin this?” He asks and his voice is so earnest that I soften a little.
“I’m not sure. You’re kind of giving me mixed signals here, Kent.”
“I panicked. I haven’t really ever dated and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to kiss you, or if you wanted me to kiss you, so I panicked. God, I didn’t even walk you to your door,” he says, mortification clear in his voice.
A giggle escapes me before I can stop myself.
“Are you laughing at me?”
“A little, yeah.” I admit.
“Can you come outside?”
“Why?” I ask, darting to the kitchen window that looks out over the street and spotting his car at the curb with him leaning against it.