Wild Heart (15 page)

I feel like a fucking asshole. An inconsiderate prick.

I’m running late, and it’s not just an hour late, it’s almost
three
fucking hours late.

My plan was to pick Em up at six and take her out, make up for lost time, show her a good time. But here it is, almost nine. I’m still in my work clothes, and I’m tearing down the side of a mountain feeling like a fucking chump for standing her up on our first date…well, our first date in over ten years, that is. My cell has no services and the last time I talked to her was at noon, confirming I’d be there at six.

Asshole doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Gripping the wheel, I try to calm down, focus on not killing myself on the way there, but it’s useless.

In a way I feel like we’re starting all over, but in another way, I feel like we’re trying to make up for lost time. Ten years ago something like this would just roll right off her back. She’d smile and say, “It’s no big deal.” And I’d make it up to her, but I don’t know how
this
Emerson will react. For all I know she’s packed and halfway back to Hollywood, done with me before we even got started.

Making it to my parents’ house in record time, I thank God I don’t have a glove box full of tickets. I broke at least six laws to get here.

I come skidding to a stop and hop out of the truck the second the thing is in park, the engine still running behind me as I take off in a sprint. Rounding the side of the house, I come to a full stop, shocked.

What the hell?

Emerson and my mom are digging holes in the backyard, in the dark, but with flashlights. Emerson is wearing a little white dress, and on her feet are a pair of knee-high brown Xtratufs, that just so happen to be mine.

Scratching my beard, I watch Em jam the shovel into the ground, then fling the dirt over her head into a messy pile behind her.

“Em? Whatcha doin’?” For all I know, they’re digging my grave. I wouldn’t blame them if they were. Her head pops up and a relieved smile breaks out across her pretty face.

“Zac,” she squeals. Dropping the shovel she hurls herself at me, wrapping her arms and legs around me, clinging to me for dear life.

Suddenly
I’m
the relieved one. So goddamn relieved. Em stayed. She’s still here. She waited.

“I’m sorry I’m so goddamn late.”

“That’s okay,” she breathes out against my neck. “I was diggin’ holes with your mom while I waited.”

“Yeah. Saw that. Why?” I laugh, thinking about her digging holes in my boots with her pretty white dress on. The woman is weird and wild.

“For the garden you promised to help me with,” my mom mutters behind me before she disappears back inside with a little wave. “Night, Zac, and thanks, Em.”

“Your welcome,” Em hollers back.

“So, babe. We still on for tonight?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“You always have such a dirty mouth?” I ask her, kissing the lips I’ve been thinking about all damn day.

“It’s gotten worse,” she mutters, smiling. “But you like it.”

“I do.”

Reluctantly, I set her on her feet in front of me and turn her towards the truck. “Let’s go before you wise up and change your mind.”

“That’s never gonna happen.” I hope and pray that’s true. “You’re stuck with me for life.”

Sweetest words I’ve heard.

~~~~~~

“I watched you on TV one time,” the waitress gushes, starry eyed. “You were so good.”

“Thanks.” Em’s the color of cherry pie, her blush damn near down to her toes. The girl loves to sing. She loves to play her guitar and scribble out her lyrics, but all the hoopla that comes with it still seems to make her squirm, unless she’s got that guitar in her hands. That thing is like a shield that protects her and gives her strength to sing her heart out in front of anyone.

“So, you’re like, famous?” The other waitress asks. With her hip propped against the seat next to us she bombards Em with questions. Does she know this person and that person? Has she won any awards? Where’d she travel? All shit I don’t know, all shit I want to know, but just not now. Not when I’m fucking dying to have her to myself. The minute we stepped through the door it’s been nothing but fanfare.

“No,” Emerson laughs. “Absolutely not.”

“Most famous person I know.”

Em’s blush deepens and her eyes plead with me.

“Jenny?” I interrupt, catching the name of the waitress on her nametag. “Mind gettin’ me a beer?”

“Oh, yes…of course,” she stammers, putting a hand to forehead. “Sorry ’bout that you two. What can I get y’all to drink?”

The waitress takes our orders, gushes a little more, then scampers off, back towards the kitchen. Alone, finally, Em mouths a big thank you around her smile.

“Anything for you.”

In the little corner booth at the only place still open in town, Casa Mia Pizzeria, we eat, talk, and laugh, and I realize that
this
is
what I’ve been missing all these years.
This
is why I was so goddamn mad. I got robbed of her and her time, and that shit pissed me off.

But not tonight. Tonight I’ve got my girl back and I couldn’t be fucking happier.

“Do you remember our first date?” Em asks me around a bite of her crust and sauce only pizza. She’s still the weirdest woman I’ve ever met. “You were so nervous you spilled your drink in your lap,” she adds, laughing so hard she snorts.

I groan, remembering it like it was yesterday, trying not to laugh myself.

I can’t stop staring at Emerson. I also can’t stop my damn hands from shaking. I’m a nervous idiot. I’ve known her for years, but tonight feels new, different.

Of course Em’s not fazed, laughing and smiling as she usually does. Talking to a guy that’s bussing the table behind us, she listens as he tells her some story that I miss because I’m too busy trying to calm the hell down.

I’m sitting across from her, looking like an idiot.

I feel fucking lucky. Lucky she picked me when she could’ve had anyone. Lucky it’s me she loves. Lucky it’s me she’s here with.

Em tosses those messy curls over her shoulder and laughs loudly when the busser says something funny to her about riding the bench all season, being third string, or something like that. I don’t recognize him, but then again, we don’t usually practice with underclassmen.

Em nods along to his story and sips her shake, listening intently. Everyone loves the girl and it’s easy to see why.

“My boyfriend, Zac,” she adds, smiling around her straw at me, “is going to State for football.”

Boyfriend.

Fuck, I love that.

The busser keeps talking, but I keep staring at her, happy as hell I’m with the prettiest girl in town.

Absently, I reach a shaky hand out to grab my water, hoping to clear my dry throat, but I miss. Instead I knock the stupid thing over. I scramble for it, but it’s a lost cause.

The glass hits the table with a crack and everyone chooses that moment to stop talking and look at us. The place is dead silent, except for the dripping of water. Water and ice are everywhere—my lap, the table, and on Emerson.

Shit.

“Shit.” Jumping out of my seat, I grab napkins and dive for her, desperate to save her clothes from my mess. Rounding the table, I see it’s too damn late.

My heart falls straight to my ass.

“Em, I’m so…” The words die on my lips when she busts into laughter. God, she’s beautiful when she laughs like that. She laughs so hard she snorts.

Standing at the end of the table, all I can do is stare at her. Picking up an ice cube from her lap, she pops it into her mouth and chuckles.

“Next time, remind me to bring my raincoat.”

Sliding into the seat next to her, I get ready to beg for forgiveness, but she smiles, kissing my cheek, “Calm down Zac. It’s just you and me. No biggie.”

Leaning over the table, Em pushes the two glasses of water away from me and laughs, “Ya know, just in case.”

“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.”