Rekindle (2 page)

“Yeah, yeah. Trust me, we know all about your crush on the great man-child.” She smirks as we grab our purses and head to the U-Haul.

“Listen, whore-balls, I swear to you, if we don’t pull over in the next five minutes…I. Am. Going. To. Die. Seriously. My freaking bladder is going to bust. I mean, can you imagine the contents of my bladder splashed all over this U-Haul? Think of the extra cleaning charges we’re going to have to pay. It’s almost absurd when you think about it. Honestly, when you could just pull over in the next—”

“CAM! I got it! Chill, chica! I will pull off at the next exit and we’ll stop for the night.” I cut off her endless rant, smiling so she knows I’m not really frustrated. She literally squeals with excitement. I have to hand it to her, for someone who can’t sit still for more than five minutes, she’s done really well. It does feel like we’ve been driving for days, but we’ve made it from Chicago to right outside of Nashville. If we stop tonight, we’ll be in Mobile by midafternoon tomorrow.

We pull into the closest hotel we can find off the interstate and crash for the night. It feels like heaven to be able to stretch our legs. Meems and Pops tried to tell us we could make the whole trip in one long haul—umm, yeah…right. Our pit stops have been frequent because, let’s be honest, between the two of us, we have more pent-up energy than we know what to do with. Granted, there are nights that we spend vegging out in front of the TV, watching corny movies and eating popcorn, but for the most part, Cam and I are fairly active. It’s hard for us to not have the option to move around.

It feels like minutes—not hours—and we’re back on the road again first thing in the morning. Only this time, the drive won’t be quite as long. And when we get to our apartment, we won’t have to move again. Definitely a comforting thought.

“Ahh! Emma Grace! Look! We are
home!
Finally! And our apartment is totally fetch,” Cam says slyly, glancing at me.

“I know! I’m so excited. And Cam, quit trying to make ‘fetch’ happen. It’s never going to happen.” I smile.

“Touché, my dear. Touché.” She laughs and hops from the U-Haul, throws her hands on her hips, and looks up toward our condo.

Putting her hand over her eyes to shield the sun, she looks my way. “It is pretty perfect, Emma Grace. It feels like home already—” she pauses and takes a deep breath “—except it’s 10 degrees hotter than hell around here. You didn’t tell me we were moving to the Sahara!”

I laugh and turn my face to the sun. Man, the fresh air and warm sun on my skin are fantastic. “Let’s go check out our place before we start unpacking,” I suggest as I reach into the truck and find the condo key that’s buried in my purse.

We walk into the condo and take a look around. The front door opens to a teeny-tiny foyer that opens to a large living area. The living room and dining room are just one giant space, and the only thing that separates the kitchen from it is the counter bar. I am instantly in love with all of the space! Where our apartment in Chicago was so cramped we barely had room for all of our things, we might be hard-pressed to fill up this place.

We both stand for a moment, slack-jawed and taking it in, when Cam takes off running. “First one to the biggest bedroom gets it!” she shouts over her shoulder. I start running as soon as my brain registers what she said.

By the time I get to her, she’s lying in the middle of the floor in one of the bedrooms. “You suck giant monkey balls!” I say, mock glaring at her. “You can’t start running, THEN dictate the terms of the race. That’s just ridiculous,” I huff. “And cheating!” I add for good measure.

She sits up on her elbows to look at me. “You’re right. It was a bitch move. I’m sorry. To make it up to you, you can buy us pizza for dinner,” she says, trying to placate me.

“Okay,” I agree immediately, but I rethink my quick response when I see her smirk turn into a smile. “Oh, no freaking way! YOU buy dinner. Not ME! Shit, are you ever fair?” I question.

“Not if I can help it,” she responds and reaches out for my hand. I pull her to her feet, and we head out to start unloading our mounds upon mounds of crap.

It’s closing in on dusk. We’ve been in and out of our condo for hours, unloading and organizing the best we can. We’re down to just a few more trips—at least I hope we are. A little red coupe flies into the parking lot and swings into the space next to the U-Haul, nearly taking me out.

“Oh God!” someone exclaims as the door to the coupe opens. “I am so sorry! I’m not used to anyone being here, and once I realized there was a huge truck sitting in the lot, I stopped as fast as I could,” the woman apologized.

She’s young—close to mine and Cam’s age, if I had to guess. Her light brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing fashion-forward yoga gear.

“No biggie.” I try and calm her frazzled nerves. “I’m still standing, so we’re all good.”

She seems to gather herself quickly. “Goodness me, where are my manners? I’m Shayna. I live in 113.” She sticks out her hand to introduce herself, her words dripping with southern charm.

“Emma Grace,” I reply, shaking her hand. “And that’s my roommate, Cameron.” I point to Cam, who is headed our way. “We’re just moving in to 115, so it looks like we’re neighbors.” I smile, trying to be neighborly.

We weren’t friends with our neighbors in Chicago. They were freaks. I’m pretty sure the guy who lived across the breezeway was a serial killer. Legit. It’s nice to finally be living next to a person who is our age and normal, albeit a little high-strung.

Shayna looks as happy as we are to have people her age next door. “Well, isn’t that just the bee’s knees! I am so glad to have y’all as neighbors! If there is anything y’all need, just holler, okay?” I swear to you, the woman doesn’t know how you use the letter ‘g.’ Her words come out like ‘anythin.’ It’s adorable. I want her to walk around with me and talk to me all day.

I know that, technically, I’m from the South, but moving away at such a young age caused me to lose most of my southern accent. The only real phrase that never left my vocabulary is ‘y’all.’ Hearing the way Shayna talks makes me smile. A warm feeling passes through me. I feel like I’m
home
—really home—for the first time in years.

“We certainly will. Thanks, Shayna,” I say with a smile. She starts to turn away when I remember I don’t know anything about this place anymore. I stop her quickly. “Oh, while you’re here, there is something you can help us with. Two things, actually. We need to know the best pizza in town for dinner tonight, and I was wondering if you knew how far away the high school was from these condos?”

“Of course! The best pizza, hands down, is Romero’s. Great beer, even better pizza. It’s one of my favorite spots to go after a long day’s work, for happy hour. And yeah, the school is about 10 minutes in that direction.” She points down the road. “It’s one of the reasons I moved here. Super convenient.”

“Wait, do you work at the school?” I question, sounding almost hopeful.

“Yeah,” she answers. “I’ve been teaching tenth grade science for two years.”

“That’s wicked! I’m starting there on Monday. Eleventh grade literature.” I look over at Cam, who is rolling her eyes at me. “What?” I question her.

“Nothing!” She laughs, holding up her hands. “It shouldn’t surprise me anymore that you can find something in common with a complete stranger in five minutes flat.” Cam shakes her head and turns her attention to Shayna. “Listen, we have a few more trips to make, but do you want to come grab dinner with us tonight? That way we won’t get lost on the way to this fabulous pizzeria?”

Shayna’s eyes light up. “That sounds great! I’m just going to run in and shower real quick. I should be ready to go in a jiffy!” She turns and swishes quickly to her house. Cam and I share a look. Yeah, she might be a little eccentric, but she’s sweet.

We finish unloading and change our clothes. By the time we walk out of our front door, Shayna is just heading over. We jump in her car and head to Romero’s. The pizza is fantastic, which is a big statement coming from two girls who were raised in Chicago. The company is great too. We chat and laugh with Shayna for a few hours, just getting to know each other and sharing crazy stories. I breathe a deep sigh of relief and take a sip of my beer. This really is going to be a good thing. I can feel it in my bones.

Chapter Two

Rhett

I will not kill Micah. I will not kill Micah. I will not kill Micah
.

I try to repeat this mantra over and over again. I mean, if I say it enough, then maybe the urge to strangle my best friend will actually go away. Won’t it? If not, then I’m totally fucked, because right now I’d really love nothing more than to inflict physical pain on him for getting us
both
in trouble with the chief, hence the reason I am washing fucking windows right now.

“Hey, bro, how long are you going to give me the fucking silent treatment? Honestly, I can’t take this shit. You want to be mad, then be mad—hell, even punch my ass, but you know I hate someone giving me the silent treatment. It’s not like I was trying to get us put on window duty, but fuckin’ A, brother, did you see the ass on Chief’s daughter? How was I not supposed to check it out? And seriously, it’s not like I forced you to look. So cut the shit already. Let’s just clean the windows and get out of here,” Micah says with a serious look on his face.

He has been my best friend for over ten years, and I still don’t know why. We are nothing alike. While I’m more reserved and respectful, he’s a total man-whore and doesn’t ever try to deny it. In fact, he boasts it proudly.

“Micah, you told me to—and I quote—‘check that ass out.’ How was I supposed to know whose ass I was actually looking at? It’s like if you tell someone to smell something after saying how bad it stinks, then they’re going to smell it. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. It’s the same way with telling someone to look at something. So yes, I looked, but honestly, dude, it was only because you told me to, which makes this all your fault,” I say a little louder than I should.

I really probably shouldn’t be as pissed as I am, but after the week I’ve had, all I want to do is go grab a few beers, then go home and crash for the rest of the night and most of the next day.

“Rhett, fine, I’m sorry I told you to look at one of the best asses in the history of asses. Okay? Are we solid now?”

“Micah,”—I know I sound as exasperated as I feel—“whatever. We’re solid. Now, can we finish up these windows so we can get home, shower, and unwind for once this week?”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah, because I need to get my dick wet. It’s been too long.”

“No, it’s been three days, actually. One day you’re gonna catch something that Ajax can’t wipe off, dumbass.”

“Naw, bro, I’m as safe as they come. I have a box of condoms in my truck, a box in every room of my apartment, and I keep five in my wallet at all times. I wrap my shit up. Safe sex is the best fucking sex as far as I’m concerned. I ain’t got time to be a baby daddy. So that’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. All that settling down shit is for you. Not me. The women love for me to put out their fires with my extinguisher. It’s all they think about, so who am I to deny them? It would be fucking selfish. I’m honestly doing a good deed,” he says.

“Man, you gotta quit calling your junk the extinguisher; it’s disturbing as hell,” I say in between laughs. This man may be a complete idiot, but he’s loyal and he keeps me laughing all the time. There’s never a dull moment with Micah in the room.

“Last window on my side, Micah. Are you about done with your side?” I holler.

“Yeah, man, I just finished. It’s time to head out,” he says, clapping his hands together.

“Bout fuckin’ time. Let’s blow this joint,” I say as I slap him on the shoulders. We’ve had a long-ass shift, and now it’s time to let loose and shoot a few rounds of pool at Reed’s.