Wild Heart (9 page)

The room has been sucked dry of any breathable air when Emerson smiles back at me. Her smile is fake and forced, just like mine, and the look in her eyes is so fucking painful, I have to look away.

Nadia rubs my arm, smiling at me with her perfect white teeth. I force out a laugh when she starts to laugh at something she’s said, but the sound gets stuck in the back of my dry throat.

Why, out of every goddamn restaurant in town does Emerson have to be
here
…
tonight
? And why does she have to look so sad?

Nadia interrupts my thoughts, laughing again at something I found funny a minute ago, but that humor died the second I locked eyes with Emerson. She looked hurt standing there, caught off guard, and it felt good until guilt hit me like a goddamn sledgehammer. I want Emerson to feel like I do, yet a part of me doesn’t. I know how painful those feelings are.

I want her to feel something—jealousy, anger, guilt—for the situation she finds herself in now.

Staring at her, I drown myself in my Jack and Coke.

I don’t know what’s gotten into Nadia, but she’s done a complete one-eighty. I mean, she’s still the same girl, but something doesn’t feel right. I thought it was me and the way I’ve been, but that’s not all of it. Something about her is changing also. She’s been spending a lot more time engrossed in her phone when we’re together, seeming more…distant. I know for a fact that she saw Emerson tonight. She had to. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be hanging off me, laughing, trying to keep my attention. Hell, I thought she was coming back around, but that’s bullshit. It’s all a show for Emerson. Nadia doesn’t have the right to make Emerson jealous, only
I
do.

I
want
to rewind time.

All I want is to be here with Emerson. I
want
my time with her back. I
want
none of the bullshit between us.

I promised her it would always me and her, but
she
took that shit away.
She
broke that promise.

I’m soaked. My uniform is drenched and caked with mud. We played through the rain, the mud, the injuries, and came we out victorious. It was a hard-fought win.

Going through the tunnel, we all file through, heading towards the locker room. We’re on a winning high.

“We slayed, man,” I holler through my helmet. And we did. We fucking dominated, but all the hype stayed on the field because Emerson is mad at me, and that feeling crawled right back over me the second I left the field. She has every right to be, and for whatever sick reason, when she’s mad at me, it ruins my fucking day.

Tolo is this weekend, and Kelly asked me to go with her. Standing in the hall with my buddies, she walked right up and asked me. What the hell was I supposed to say? Kelly is hot, but she’s not Emerson. But with everyone cheering me on, encouraging the bullshit, I said yes when I didn’t want to. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a complete asshole, and I’m not into hurting a girl’s feelings. I was stuck. Either humiliate Kelly in front of a hall full of people, or privately piss of Em.

Kelly’s now my date, and Em’s pissed.

“Zac Moore!”

Fuck.

Turning around, Emerson stands at the entrance to the tunnel, and I was right, she’s pissed. Wearing her uniform, she looks hot. It’s a tiny skirt, and even tinier top. But the look on her face is something else entirely.

Chucking her pompoms onto the ground near her feet, she crosses her arms.

“I heard,” is all she says. It’s all she needs to say. My stomach falls straight through my ass.

Taking off my helmet, I look at her with an expression I pray looks as sorry as I truly am.

“Em, don’t be mad at me,” I plead.

“Don’t,” she growls, storming down the tunnel straight for me. With a clenched fist, she socks me in the shoulder before I can stop her. “Owe!” she yelps, clutching her fist with her unhurt hand.

“Jesus. I have pads on, Em.” Grabbing for her hand, she jerks it away before I can look at it.

“You promised me, Zac,” she says, rubbing at her knuckles. I really messed up. It would have been our first dance together and I ruined it.

“I know,” I say sadly, hanging my head. “What was I supposed to say?”

“No! You could have told her ‘I have a date.’ I know we’re new to this whole couple thing, but you don’t go around, taking girls on dates when you
have
a girlfriend!”

“She put me on the spot in front of everyone and I panicked. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or embarrass her. I’ll tell her I can’t go. She can find a new date.”

Now she’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “No. You can’t do that.”

For fuck’s sake.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You can’t leave her hangin’ like that. Just go with her,” she huffs, exasperated. “We’re together now, and after this, people need to know it. Promise me. From now on, it’s me and you.”

“Swear to God.”

“Good. Now kiss me.”

I do. I kiss her until she pushes me away, smiling.

“You’re getting me wet,” she says breathlessly, and I refrain from making some lame “that’s what she said” joke. Em’s happy, and I’d prefer to keep it that way, so I keep it inside. “I love you,” she says softly when I kiss her again, grabbing her ass.

Looking down into her eyes, I know there is nothing better out there for me. Her eyes are filled with emotion I couldn’t even begin to touch. Her love for me is real. It’s honest. It’s the best fucking thing in the world.

“I love you, too,” I tell her, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything. I’ll love her today, tomorrow, and until the last fucking day of my life. I’m young, but I’m not dumb. Em is it for me.

“Forever?”

“Forever,” I confirm.

“Promise?”

“Fuck yeah.”

That was the plan, but she robbed me of the chance to do all things I wanted to do with her.

“Would it be a problem?” Nadia asks, bringing my attention back to her.

Shit
.

I missed what she said, and I instantly feel like a fucking asshole for neglecting her on our date. Guilt is the reason we’re here in the first damn place. The least I can do is pay attention to her.

“What?”

“Would you be mad if I didn’t come to the wedding? I mean, I’m not really friends with anyone there…”

Noticing Emerson shift in her chair, I look up and I’m instantly lost to her. Her eyes are sad and unfocused. She’s blatantly staring, but doesn’t acknowledge the fact that I’m staring right back at her.

Locked in her gaze, I feel my heart hammering away in my fucking chest.

“Zac!” Nadia slams her glass down, jerking me back. “What is your problem?”

“Nothin’. Sorry.”

She frowns at me, batting some hair out of her pretty face. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. “It’s no problem,” I tell her half-heartedly. I don’t really care if she comes or not.

“I have a final on Monday I really have to study for.” Smiling apologetically, she shrugs. “Plus, you’ll be with your brother and friends and stuff.” Leaning her chest against my shoulder, she whispers in my ear, “But I’ll make it up to you later.”

Nothing. Her words do nothing for me. 

I give in and give up. “Yeah, okay.”

~~~~~~

Standing in the dimly lit back hall with my hands in my pockets, I wait for Emerson.

I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing, what I’m planning on saying, but that look, that heartbroken stare got to me.

I left Nadia at the table, texting. Who she’s texting, I have no idea, and I really don’t care. I had to get to Emerson.

I wait for what feels like hours in the hall alone.

What is she doing in there?

I’m about to go in after her when the bathroom door opens and she walks out, looking down at her floor.

“Em.” I clear my throat, unsure.

Her head snaps up and she flinches. Her eyes are red.

She was
crying
.

Crushing guilt. Consuming heartache.
Why
does this shit keep happening?

“Zac,” she breathes, visibly shook.

I feel like shit. 

Rubbing at the back of my neck, I shift on my feet, uncomfortable with this whole fucking mess.

A weird silence fills the space between us. Never in my life did I think there’d be
this
thing between us.

I want to apologize. I want to clear the air. I want to beg her to love me again, but I don’t do any of that.

“You okay?” I ask when nothing else seems right. I know she’s not, but I ask anyways.

She shrugs one shoulder and her face squeezes in mock confusion. Em plays a good game. I might not know her like I used to, but I see right through her bullshit. Her eyes say it all.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Fuck, I don’t know.” Shaking my head, I start questioning why the hell I came back here in the first place. I’m uncomfortable and un-fucking-sure.

I just stare at her, waiting for some sort of sign as to where this is going.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you don’t know me.” I don’t. I know
my
Emerson. The woman standing in front of me is a stranger. A stranger I
wish
I knew.

“I don’t.”

“Zac,” she pleads softly. “Are you going to be mad at me forever? Hold it against me until I die?”

Em’s finally seeing what I’m seeing, but am I? Will I ever get over it? It’s pretty damn hard when I’ve been holding on to ten years’ worth of resentment towards her. I’m a big man, and I’m packed full of that shit.

“Jesus, Zac.” She shoves past me when I don’t say anything more. “You’re an asshole!” She calls over her shoulder as she walks away from me.

I let her go, not sure what the fuck to do.

Wedding planning is not for the faint of heart.

There’s the dress, the florist, the music, the venue. Hors d’oeuvres? Band or DJ? Four courses or buffet?  Limo, or a horse-drawn carriage? And let’s not get started on the color of the bridesmaid’s dresses. The list is never-ending. I feel for Holly. Her glassy eyed stare says it all. She’s completely overwhelmed.

I’ve never planned a wedding, at least not out loud. But I knew wine would do the trick. Like I say; it’s the cure for all that ails you.

Sitting around Holly’s kitchen table with wedding magazines, swatches, flowers, food, and wine glasses surrounding us, we hash out all the last minute details. Helping to put Holly’s overactive imagination to rest is easy with the assistance of wine and kind words. We promise her nothing horrible is going to happen. We assure her it’ll be perfect. We tell her how beautiful she’ll be.
It’s all true
. She loves
Luke and Luke loves her. A fucking hurricane couldn’t ruin a wedding that’s been in the works since they were kids.

Drinking my wine, I listen to my friend’s gush and gab over the upcoming nuptials and their love lives. They’re all happy, and honestly, I’m happy for them. I love Holly, Luke, and all my friends, but I’m envious. I want what they have. I didn’t ten years ago, but the older me, the me now, wants it all. Too bad I’m too late.

The grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Sometimes it’s the same shade you already had before. I left and I got what I was looking for—music and independence—but I also got something else, a really sad fucking case of envy and jealousy, which is oddly the same ugly color as the grass I’m currently on.

I haven’t seen Zac all week, which is probably a good thing. I might have punched him if we did cross paths at this point.

I get it, he’s still mad at me. I understand it. But he looks happy, and he’s moved on. What I don’t want is for it to be awkward and uncomfortable when we have to be around each other. Our families are close. We share the same friends. We’re going to be living in the same small town, so we’re bound to run into each other more than we’d like. With all these factors, it’s inevitable. But I don’t know how to fix it. I can’t take back what I did, no matter how much I wish I could. I can’t blame him for the way he feels, and I need to accept whatever he’s willing to give me, be it friendship or space.

“You okay over there, Em?” Row asks, touching my arm.

“Oh, yeah,” I lie.

“You sure?”

“Positive.” Not really.

Row falls back into helping her sister with the planning and I follow suit, determined not to let my envy sour this moment for my friends.

~~~~~~

“What is that noise?” Row asks, covering her ears. A chainsaw screams from somewhere outside. Holly follows the noise, while me and Row fall into step behind her. She’s showing us where her new deck will go.

“The guys are taking a few trees down or somethin’.”

Holly opens the back door and I’m hit with a shirtless Zac. My mouth instantly dries and my knees go weak.

His naked back is to me, a chainsaw in his hands. On his head is a backwards baseball hat, and on his legs are a pair of dirty jeans.

Sweet Jesus.

Off in the distance I hear Holly tell us the details about her beautifully planned backyard, but all I can hear is that damn chainsaw.

Swallowing hard, I cross the already existing deck. Why must he look the way he does?  

“It’s hot as two rats fuckin’ in a wool sock,” Row complains, falling into my side. She instantly starts fanning herself.

What?

“That’s a lovely picture you just painted,” I respond mindlessly as I stare at the muscles rippling in Zac’s back as he works the chainsaw over his head. My nipples go hard just watching him. “You could have just stuck with your usual ‘hot as balls.’” I say, my voice sounding miles away to my own ears.

“I wouldn’t know anything about balls,” she grumbles. “Okay, you can stop staring now. You’re starting to drool,” she adds, jerking on my arm to pull me out of my daze.

I tear my eyes away from him, noting how wet my panties are now. Where’s a spare pair when you need them?

“Balls?” I tease, sitting down in a patio chair next to Row.

“Haven’t seen ’em in a long damn time,” she huffs.

“I feel your pain. It’s been well over a year for me.” My dry spell has lasted for what feels like
years
. It’s pathetic.

“We’re gettin’ old,” Row groans.

“Yeah, you are.” A voice that doesn’t belong to Row answers. Looking over my shoulder, Zac is smirking at me, happy. Oh Jesus, he heard me.

I hide my face behind my glass as Zac and Row start bickering about age and who’s doing it faster.