by K. K. Allen
It’s been a part of me all along. I didn’t need to seek out my dream; I just needed to realize what was already in me.
When I wasn’t spending my time among the fashion students in Seattle this week, I was totally slammed at work. Everybody needed me for something, and since Zach was busier than ever, Trevor called me like crazy.
Even Meredith was sending me emails—one awful idea after the next about how to sex up the campaign. She’s an idiot. Sorry, but she’s clueless about what we’re actually supposed to be doing. Stripping Zach down to his boxer briefs and rubbing oil and water all over him won’t serve a purpose other than her own selfish one. Her argument is that we need to “stimulate the parents too to get them more involved.” Yes, she used the word stimulate, and I’m certain she wasn’t referring to their minds.
Ugh. It’s hard to push thoughts of Meredith and Zach together out of my mind, but he keeps me sane by sending trinkets of relief throughout the day. He never stops asking for pictures, and he calls me every night. I love the rasp in his voice when he’s exhausted from one event after the other. I love every yawn he tries to muffle so I’ll stay on the phone. And I love that he hides nothing about his day, even the bits about Meredith. It only makes me want him back in town that much more.
It’s almost eleven at night when my phone rings, alerting me that I have a video call coming through. I smile. This is how Zach prefers to talk to me, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. I do. I like that he wants to see me rather than just hear my voice. And after that first call that caught me off guard, I’ve been able to put together some cute outfits for bedtime.
“Hey Cakes.” Zach smiles into the screen and I smile back.
“Hey back. Another stimulating day?” We both laugh. Zach thought Meredith’s photoshoot idea was equally ridiculous, but he’s not sure if he’ll be able to shake her of it. Why he doesn’t put his foot down and start calling the shots is beyond me. He puts too much trust into a woman with an agenda that doesn’t seem to honor his character.
“You know it. Is that another Monica original?” Zach asks.
I hold the phone away so he can see the entire outfit, including my shiny, smooth legs. “You like?” I grin. This one is as blue as Zach’s eyes. It has spaghetti straps, buttons down the front, and tiny shorts with an elastic waist.
“You know I do.” I look up to watch his appreciative eyes roam the length of me. His gravelly voice is everything. “You have no idea how much I miss you, Cakes.”
Warmth blooms from my inside-out, pulling my smile along with it. I fall onto my bed, bringing the phone with me and letting the down comforter conform to my body. “I might miss you too.”
“Hm.” He considers my response with a smile. “I’ll take it.” His eyes pull to the left. “What’s that noise?”
I turn my head to make out what he’s referencing and stifle a yawn. No wonder I’m so relaxed. Pellets of rain have begun to tap on my window. “Another rainy night. It looks like it’s going to come down pretty hard. See?” I turn my phone so that he can see my window and then turn it back to face me.
We’re silent for a few seconds before I speak. “My sister and I used to love curling up in blankets on the porch during the thunderstorms. We’d bring our travel karaoke machine outside and follow the sounds with our voices. At some point we’d end up beatboxing and layering vocals until the storm let up.” A bubble of laughter surfaces and erupts into a giggle at the memory. I miss how ridiculous we could act around each other.
Zach chuckles and brings the phone closer so I can make out the stubble on his jaw and the greenish-blue center of his eyes. “That just gave me an idea. What are you doing tomorrow night, Cakes?”
Tomorrow night? A lick of disappointment hits me. After a week of flirting and missing him, I can’t imagine not seeing him the moment he steps off the plane in the morning. I’m being silly.
“I was thinkin’ about washing my hair,” I tease.
His eyes narrow. “Good. Wash your hair, and then I’ll pick you up around five.”
I smile. “Sounds like a plan. Are you going to tell me what we’re doing, cowboy?”
He chuckles. “No, but you’re on the right track with that nickname. Just make sure to wear something you can get dirty in.”
Zach is right on time Saturday evening when he pulls up along the curb of my apartment. I’m glad he can’t see the glow that lights me up from the inside or hear the heavy pounding of my heart.
My cheeks already hurt from smiling all day, but now that I see him leaning against his Jeep with a wide grin of his own, they just might burst.
As I close the distance between us, he offers one of those country boy nods—you know the one—but without the tip of the hat. He’s a beautiful sight, standing there with his hands shoved in light gray jeans and wearing a black hoodie, unzipped to reveal a white fitted shirt.
“Hey, Cakes.”
“Hey yourself.”
He pulls me in for a hug and buries his face in my hair. I’m doing the same, falling into him easily while pressing my cheek to his chest.
Everything about this moment feels complete, like we could end our story right here and never look back. Unfortunately, back was the easy part. Back was safe and fun. But it can still be fun. At least that’s what I’m hoping.
I’m instantly soothed by his sweet, fresh scent that has become my heaven. Paired with the strength of his arms, it’s the perfect combination. At some point we moved past friendship, and my desire for more drowns out that little voice reminding me why this is a bad idea.
He groans and tightens his hold. “You feel good.”
I laugh and look up, my heart lifting when our eyes connect. Can you miss something you’ve never had before? Because I’ve missed this—the way Zach makes me feel when I let him in, like he considers it a privilege. I’ve even missed the way his tone hums through my body when he’s this close. Not to mention those ocean blue eyes, beautiful smile, and perfectly styled hair.
He lifts a hand to my cheek and swipes at it gently with his thumb. “You ready?”
His sweet smile is asking more than the obvious. Why won’t my damn heart slow down? “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
We get on I-405 heading south when he reaches for my hand. “I’d ask you what you did this week, but I think I know every single detail. I might even have a selfie of it.”
“That is probably true.” I think about my time at the Art Institute this week and realize there is something I haven’t told him. “Oh! I’m officially enrolled for school.”
He glances at me with a surprised look. “Really? That is news. Are you going to keep me in suspense?”
I fasten a smug look on my face. “Maybe I will.”
“Ah, come on, Cakes.” Zach’s flirtatious glance as he squeezes my hand is enough to give in.
“It’s the most obvious of all the choices. It’s just not something I’ve seriously considered before.”
“Fashion design?”
My head whips toward him in shock. He says it like he already knew what I didn’t.
He shrugs in response to my surprise. “I think everyone knew but you.”
I steal my hand back and cross my arms across my chest. Should I be embarrassed about this? How could my friends know me better than I know myself? He laughs and steals my hand back. “You make your own clothes. You grew up in the fashion industry. You assemble all the wardrobes for production. And you designed the event logo. But nothing is more obvious than the crap thrown all over your bedroom.”
I gasp, completely mortified. “When did you see my bedroom?”
His eyes crinkle with laughter. “The bathroom is attached to it. I might have snuck a peek. The question is, why didn’t you realize it sooner?”
It’s a good question. I’m just not sure I have an answer quite yet. “I don’t know. I spent my childhood thinking I wanted something completely different. The limelight wa
s all I dreamed of. I don’t think I realized at the time what really impressed me about runway shows was the work that went into them. The set design, the choreography, and most of all, the outfits. I’d spend hours just hanging backstage watching the seamstresses and designers pick at the models until they accurately portrayed their work. It was all so fascinating.
“Maybe it’s always been what I wanted, but I just didn’t realize it. Sure, I practiced walking in heels and knew my signature pose by the time I was seven, but more than anything, I was critiquing designs and assembling my own outfits from carpets and drapes around the house.”
“That’s very Gone with the Wind of you,” he teases.
Laughing, I get a good look at him. I need to remember this moment. “Wow. I didn’t think it was possible for you to get any sexier.”
He shrugs, completely unashamed. “Fashion is part of you.”
“It is.”
He squeezes my hand and focuses on the road ahead. We drive in silence for a few minutes while I check out his profile. It’s his eyes I keep going back to. Such deep and honest eyes. But there’s not an ounce of insincerity in his heart either. I love that I can feel safe with him. He’s so attuned to my needs and feelings by now, I find it hard to think he could ever disappoint me.
“You never did tell me where you were taking me. I didn’t know what to wear.”
There’s an amused gleam in his eyes, but he keeps them concentrated on the road. “It’s a surprise. Hope you don’t mind a bit of a drive tonight. But I’d say you’re dressed just fine.”
I glance down at my new outfit—I put the finishing touches on it yesterday. Heavily distressed dark denim, thanks to a pair of scissors and some sand paper, are now ripped at my upper thighs and knees. I even added some gold and silver studs to the front to dress it up a bit. Paired with an oversized, cream scoop neck sweater, it’s both casual and classy. Perfect for tonight since I’m still clueless as to where Zach is taking me. And with my good luck fringed booties at my feet, I’m ready for anything. I think.
“You were joking about getting dirty, right?”
“Don’t worry, Cakes. You’ll stay clean.” He gives me a quick wink. “Just don’t get out of the Jeep.”
Baffled, I just stare at him, waiting for a clue of some kind. His mouth remains zipped.
Thirty minutes later we’ve completely left civilization, and Zach’s turning down a gravel road. A mile later, we’re in a section of woods and on another path, this one fresh with mud.
“Um, Zach. If you don’t want me to question whether you’re a serial killer again, you’re gonna want to tell me why you’re driving me deep into the woods where no one can hear me scream.”
He reaches over and grabs my knee this time. “Nothing to worry about, Cakes.” He winks. “I’m considered a professional where I come from.”
“A professional of what, exactly?”
Zach doesn’t answer. Instead he removes his hand, turns up the music, and takes the wheel in both of his hands. With one final look at me, he grins. “You’re gonna want to hold on there.” He points to the handle above the passenger window as he revs the engine.
I latch on just as I hear the back wheels spinning, and then the Jeep takes off down the path. My stomach lurches forward. Mud flies all around us, splattering and streaking the windows. I’m screaming before I can control it. Even with the seatbelt holding me, I’m being tossed into the air like a ragdoll, my hair flying around me in vicious waves.
I hear Zach’s laughter over the blaring country music and the roar of the engine. I’m laughing too as adrenaline pumps through my veins. Every bump that throws us into the air only shakes more laughter from me.
He doesn’t do anything too crazy, doesn’t make any wild turns or slam on the brakes. For that, I’m thankful. He just drives straight and fast until he approaches a sign that warns him to slow down.
The path opens to a large, dirt field, its center soft and muddy from recent rain. Once we’ve cleared the trees, he accelerates toward it until we’re sinking and then spinning through the outskirts of the pit.
Each time we slow, the tires descend deep into the thick sludge. Zach knows just what to do. Revving the engine, he lightly taps and releases the gas. As he does, the Jeep climbs forward until he’s found the perfect opportunity to press down on the lever and spin us out of the sinkhole.
We circle the pit a few times before heading back to the trail. He turns down the music so I can hear him. “There aren’t any regulated dirt-riding paths or mudding spots around here,” he explains. “Some of the players own this land just for this purpose. We’ve set it up so it can be as safe as possible. Mudding can be dangerous if you don’t follow the rules, so we made some.” He winks, and I’m instantly comforted by his consideration. He didn’t have to tell me any of that, but he wants me to feel safe. And I do, because I’m with him.
“Want to do it again?”
My eyes go wide with excitement and I nod emphatically. “Yes!”
“Why haven’t I ever heard of that before?”
We’ve made it to the end of the trail for the fifth time and decided to take a break. The music is playing from his portable speaker now while Zach moves around the Jeep, adjusting the seats and rolling out a large cushion.
“I don’t know, Cakes. We used to do it all the time in Texas.”
I help him open the rag top, and then I sit with my back against the front seat. He plops down near me and sets a padded cooler between us. “Hope you don’t mind a simple dinner. I didn’t have time to make anything fancy.”
A thankful smile is all he gets from me before I’m slapping his hand away and examining the contents of the cooler. “Corn bread?” I ask curiously.
“Skillet corn bread with corn relish. A southern staple.”
I set it down to pull out the next few containers. Pimento cheese and crackers, sweet tea, and … a large jar. My face twists with amusement. “Pickles?”
“Yes.” He hands me a beer and then sets the container to the side. “Think you can appreciate this?”
With a teasing glare, I grab it from his hands. “I appreciate all of it. Thank you.” I look down at the can, rolling it between my hands and smile.
“Dallas Ales? “How’d you get your hands on these anyway?”
He leans back, opening his can and taking a swig. “My mom brings a case every time she visits. We used to serve it in the restaurant, and it was Dad’s favorite.” He shrugs. “I think it’s her way of remembering him. The memories, good and bad, come alive when we open these bad boys.” He winks and I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, so I don’t pry for more.
We eat in silence for a while, staring out at the darkness, the wind washing the trees around us. There’s not much to see as the sun is setting, but the darkening purplish-blues of night hold my attention.
Synchronizing perfectly with the country tunes that play in the background, nature adds music of its own. Crickets chirp into the night, squirrels scurry up trees, owls claim their territory with each hoot, and leaves rustle in the evening breeze.
When we’ve finished our dinner, Zach reaches for my hand. At first I think he might be prepping to leave, but then he pulls me to the tail of the Jeep so our legs dangle over the edge. He adjusts our hands, weaving his fingers through mine. Our eyes lock and we smile, lingering there for a second before turning to face the sky.
The night is brightly speckled with stars, and they’re only gaining brilliancy with each moment that passes.
“Wow,” I breathe. “I haven’t seen stars this bright since I lived in Texas. Living in the city, you forget to look up past the skylines. Even then, you can’t see this much detail.”
“Yeah. My brother and I would camp out in our backyard sometimes, but he was afraid of the dark. I’d have to take off the cover so we could look through the screen ceiling. We’d lie there and count the stars until we fell asleep.”
“That’s adorable.” I smile. He releases my hand and snakes his arm around my shoulders, drawing me close.
A streak of light pulls our focus back to the sky. It moves so quickly I almost miss it. I gasp. “Make a wish,” Zach says in a hushed voice, like the shooting star can hear us and anything louder might break the magic.
I make my wish and look up to find his eyes on mine. “What’d you wish for, Cakes?”
Shaking my head, I try to breathe against the erratic pounding of my heart. “If I tell you, it won’t come true.” I swallow. “I really want it to come true.”
That’s when he gives me a look I may never forget. Full of confidence and need. Defiance and lust. It’s a lot like the look he gave me before kissing me in his kitchen, but this time there’s a whole lot of build up behind it.
His finger brushes my bottom lip, and I’m certain he can hear my stuttered breaths. His touch shakes my whole body, and it only intensifies when he drops his mouth so it’s only a breath away from mine.
His words tickle against my lips, and the rasp in his voice burns through me. “I’m ready to make my wish come true right now.”
“Then do it,” I whisper back.
He’s so close. “If I start kissing you now, there’s no turning back, Cakes.” He says this not as a threat, but as if he’s afraid. My heart dances in my throat.
He’s right, but I don’t want to go back … as safe as that may have been.
I close the distance, so tired of fighting my feelings. Right now, I don’t want to think about anything else except Zach and how well we fit together. With one hand pressed into his thigh and the other gripping the back of his shirt, our mouths move together.
Kissing me was his wish. I bet he thinks that was my wish too. It wasn’t. My wish involves rewriting history so that I never would have fallen through the steps of those bleachers.
But even now, as his tongue sweeps mine and he sucks on my bottom lip, I know my wish was made in vain. That event was just the beginning of a chain that I’m the cause of—a chain that links my past to my present. I just need to figure out how to ensure it won’t continue into my future.
