by Mariah Cole
That fluttering returns to my stomach and I bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying something stupid, something like “I want to be your first in a lot of other ways too” or “Can you just pull over and fuck me right here? You’ve done enough for my first real date.”
“You do realize that you say your thoughts out loud sometimes, right?” Carter looks over at me, grinning.
I bite down harder on my tongue—feeling absolutely mortified.
He turns the radio up and we slowly drive out of Blythe and into Mobile. Then we slowly approach the smaller towns that lead to the Gulf Shore beaches.
I’ve never thought to venture here—mainly because I had no one to come with, but if I had known how beautiful it was, I would’ve escaped here every day that I could.
The ocean’s waters are lapping against the bottom of the bridge we’re crossing, sparkling in the dwindling lights of the sunset. A small set of seagulls are flying low overhead, and in the distance I can see a strip of bistros and hotels that are all flanked by a huge stretch of white sand.
I can see couples holding hands and walking near the shoreline—kissing and holding onto each other, and I hope I get to experience that by the end of the night.
“Something wrong?” Carter parks the car in front of a small white wooden building.
“No. What makes you say—”
He cuts me off and kisses me, leaving me gasping for air when he finally stops. “I just want to make sure that your first date is everything you want it to be.”
I’m still trying to catch my breath when he opens my door and leads me into the restaurant. He makes a point to hold me close to his side as the hostess greets us, and he pays no mind to the women who are staring at him and whispering.
Our hostess, a pretty blonde who is still blushing leads us to a single table on the patio that faces the ocean. She asks him if he needs anything else, and he kisses me before telling her, “No thank you.”
Cream colored candles burn softly on our table, and there’s another set of roses bearing my name.
Pulling out my chair, he kisses my cheek and watches as I run my fingers across the blooms.
“I had a great time tonight,” I say. “Thank you.”
He raises his eyebrow. “The night isn’t over. We just got here.”
“I’m telling you just in case I forget to say it later.”
He smiles and reaches over the table for my hand, gently stroking my knuckles with his fingertips.
I let him order my dinner for me—I can’t pronounce half of the shit on the menu, and we enjoy our meal in silence. Occasionally we break it with “How’s your food?” “Would you like to try mine?” “Look at the view” but for the most part, dinner is quiet.
“Why is our table the only table with candles?” I ask. “And why are we the only people out here? It looks like they just randomly placed us out here—everyone else is inside and it’s not packed...”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He takes a sip of drink, reminding me of something else that’s strange.
“I know a place like this has good wine. You don’t find it odd that the waitress didn’t offer us a drink menu? She just gave us tea without asking...”
He smiles and reaches for my hand. “Are you ready?”
“You called ahead and told them I was a drunk didn’t you?”
He pulls me up, holding me against his chest. “You honestly think I would say something like that?”
“I would hope not...”
“I would never.” He lifts me up and places me on the other side of the railing—setting me down in the sand.
After he climbs over, he bends down and takes my shoes off, hiding them underneath the pier. Once he has his off, he holds me against his side again and walks me down to the shoreline.
The water is lightly brushing against our feet, and with every few steps that we take, he leans down and kisses my lips. When we reach a more secluded part of the beach, he walks me into the water—far enough to where the waves crash against my thighs, and each time they knock against us, he kisses me again.
“I’m pretty sure Prince Charming didn’t kiss Cinderella this much on their first date.” I smile as the waves roll over us.
“Would you like me to stop?”
“Yes.” I try to sound as serious as possible. “Your kisses don’t do anything for me. They’re actually quite dry.”
He swoops me into his arms and covers my mouth with his, whispering, “Lie to me one more time tonight and I’ll make sure you regret it...”
“I hate having sex with you.”
He grins and sets me down. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you later.” He tugs on one of my curls. “You’ll be begging me to let you take that back.”
I bury my head in his chest so he won’t see my facial expression.
“You’ve changed a lot since I first met you,” he says, rubbing his hands up and down my back.
“You’re just saying that because we’ve had sex—very, very bad sex.”
“You’re really pushing it right now.” He picks me up by my waist and I wrap my legs around him. “I’m only going to be a gentleman for a little while longer.”
“What makes you think I’ve changed?”
“Besides the fact that you haven’t stopped smiling since I picked you up tonight? Or the fact that you smile and giggle every time I pick you up?”
“I’ve never giggled a day in my life.”
“I’ll remember to record it the next time I come get you for work.” He tilts my chin up with his fingertips. “You even smile about AA meetings lately. You’re definitely happier.”
“Don’t credit my happiness to those dumb ass meetings.” I wrap my arms around his neck as another wave crashes by. “The only good thing about AA is leaving. That’s why I smile about it. Not being in there is the best feeling in the world.”
“I think deep down you like it.” He gently squeezes my ass. “You hate being forced to be there, but you don’t actually hate being there.”
“Are you a career psychic now? Is that what you do all day? Sit up and philosophize about shit?”
He shuts me up with a kiss. “You complain about everyone telling their stories and crying, but you can relate. You just don’t want to admit it because you think it’ll make you look weak.”
It will...“That’s not true.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just looks into my eyes, silently telling me that it’s okay to be honest with him.
“I’m still not going to share my past with them. I made it this far without doing it so...”
“So?”
“So, I have double AA meetings coming up all week and I probably can’t spend the night with you until next Sunday.”
“Emerald...”
“I have to be there at six in the morning every day. Can you believe that? That means I’ll only get five hours of sleep after work and I—”
“Emerald,” he whispers, “I’m not judging you.”
“Then why does it feel like you are?”
“It shouldn’t.” He grips me hard as a stronger wave pushes past us. “I want what’s best for you.”
“Does that mean I can spend the night with you next Sunday when I get off?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He secures his arms around my back and carries me back to the shoreline. “Your friends are doing something special for you after you get off that day.”
“What? Please tell me you’re joking.” I’ve always hated surprises. “You have to tell me whatever it is. I’m not good when it comes to things like that.”
“You really want me to tell you?”
“Please.”
He sighs. “It’s just cupcakes and beer—well, root beer to start your rehab countdown. Twenty one days left.”
“Who planned that?”
“Sparkle and Robyn.”
“When did they tell you about it?”
“E
arlier this week.” He sets me down on the sand. “Why are you looking so sad?”
“No reason. I just...” I feel my heart swelling and want to change the subject, but I don’t. “You have no idea how lonely my life was before this summer. I had two numbers in my phone—Virginia and Henry, and the only people I talked to were the fictional characters in my head. But now, people actually want to hang out with me—like, they invite themselves over and are fine just talking to me. I know this seems so simple but it’s really fucking overwhelming because I’ve never had it before.”
I sigh. “At the same time, I don’t know if I can hold onto it. I’m going to find a way to fuck everything up. I can feel it.”
“I won’t let you.” He grabs my hand and leads me down the shoreline again.
I force a smile because even though I’m on cloud nine right now, I know my fuck up is inevitable. Nothing good in my life ever lasts for long and since I haven’t failed at anything in a while, something is bound to give.
As we approach the pier, I bend down to pick up my shoes, but he grabs me by my waist and pushes me against a flickering lamppost.
“You hate fucking me?”
“What?”
“We have ‘very very bad sex’ with dry kisses?” He slips a hand underneath my dress. “Kisses that do nothing for you?”
“I never said that.”
“You did.” He unbuckles his jeans. “And it hurt my feelings.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“Of course not.” He pushes my panties to the side and wedges his knee between my legs—spreading my legs a little wider.
“Here? Now?” I whisper, looking around us—noticing how most of the beach’s visitors are long gone.
“Yes.” He slides into me and smirks. “And I’m not going to be gentle.”
Chapter 14
Carter forgot to mention the part about my “rehab countdown party” being held at the county fair. He actually forgot to tell me about a lot of things...
Before he picked me up tonight and drove me here—to Blythe’s number one summer attraction, he took me to a spa in the adjacent county for an hour long massage. For no reason at all.
He’s been doing a lot of things for no reason at all lately: Having signed copies of my favorite books shipped to my house, gifting me paintbrushes with “Try, try again” notes, and taking me out to dinner every chance he gets.
No longer does he take me to the diner if I’m hungry after work. He’ll bring me a snack to have while he drives me somewhere nice, and he always holds me by his side when we walk in, and he always pays.
I keep waiting for him to call and break things off, for him to say that what we have isn’t what he wants anymore, but the days continue to pass and his affection only seems to grow stronger and stronger.
“Twenty one days left!” My friends cheer, breaking me out of my daydream.
Robyn, Sarah, a few girls from the club and Carter are here, holding sparklers in the dark parking lot, waiting for me to blow out the candles on my cake.
I can’t help but laugh at the design of it.
It’s a bottle of water with a green label that reads, “21 Days? Nothing Our Queen Bitch Can’t Handle!”
I blow out all twenty one candles to a loud applause and feel myself being pulled against Carter’s chest.
“Does anybody want cake now?” Sarah asks, waving a plastic knife around. “Or do we want to eat it after?”
“After,” everyone says unanimously.
She shrugs and closes the cake box, placing it onto the front seat of her car. “Fair time now? Emerald, you have to ride the Ferris wheel with me. If your boyfriend doesn’t mind that is.” She rolls her eyes at Carter, laughing.
As she and Robyn lead the way to the fair’s entrance gate, I look up at Carter. “I don’t want to go the fair. I want to have sex.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You think we’re supposed to have sex every time we see each other?”
“Yes.” We haven’t missed a day since we first started and I will take him down in front of everyone if he even tries to deny me tonight.
“You can’t wait until after we ride a few rides?”
“No. I thought this celebration was going to be at your apartment.”
“And if it would’ve been?”
“I would’ve told them to leave after we cut the cake.”
“You would’ve put people out of my apartment?
“I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” I try not to sound needy, but I can’t help it. I’m damn near addicted to having sex with him. “I’ve never craved sex—like ever, but with you it’s all I think about lately...It feels like more than sex, you know?”
Shit...
He smiles, but he doesn’t respond to my rant.
“I’m not going to beg you, Carter.” At least I don’t think I will. “Can we go to your car for twenty minutes?
“Twenty minutes?”
“Ten?”
“It’ll be a lot longer than that.”
“That means yes?”
He laughs and grabs my hand, leading me away from the line. “We probably won’t be coming back...”
Chapter 15
Today is my final day of rehab and I can’t wait for this shit to be over. I’m so happy that I don’t even care that my probation officer cornered me as soon as I walked into the building, or that he forced an empty urine cup into my hand and demanded that I put it to use minutes before the meeting started.
Since it’s the “final showdown” he said he wanted to make his last appearance “Epic.”
“Well, well, well,” he says as I step out of the restroom, “Future Convict is clean again.”
“Sorry you don’t get to haul me off in chains like you’ve been dreaming about.” I roll my eyes.
“Never that, Future Convict.” He hands me a paper chart, confirming that I’ve passed all of my random screenings. “I’m proud. Between you and me, I think you liked me checking up on you. You wanted me to.”
I don’t respond.
“And that’s a good thing, Miss Anderson.” The fact that he calls me by my name makes me look up. “It means you’re not as terrible as you think you are. Can you do me a favor?”
“Depends on what it is.”
“I know you’re no longer required to attend these sessions after today, but I want you to consider coming back, at least once a week. If not for you, for me, and if not for either of us, come for someone else. No one deserves to be fucked up alone.” He pulls me into a brief hug and then he whispers, “I hope to never have to see you again.”
I laugh and watch him walk down the hallway, shouting, “You carry piss for a living!”
As he approaches the doors, he flips me off with a smile.
“Are we all set up for today’s meeting, Emerald?” Tim steps in front of me.
“Yep.”
“Well, thank you.” He sighs. “You are officially the first person who has managed to go through my rehab course without sharing.”
“Do I get a medal for that?”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re going to break down one day, Em. And then—”
“Em-er-ald.”
“Em-er-ald. I’m sorry. It’s better to do it around people who know you. I’d hate to see you being forced to come back because you haven’t learned what landed you here in the first place.”
“I was planning to share today, okay?” I pull a folded sheet of paper out of my pocket. “I wrote a fucking speech and everything.”
“You’re joking.”
“Unfortunately not. I want to share today, unless you’d rather stand here and berate me for the rest of the afternoon.”
He smiles and gestures for me to walk into the room first.
As usual, everyone grabs their Starbucks and takes their place in the circle.
We go through our affirmations, and just when we’re preparing to write in our “What I’ve
Learned This Week” journals, Tim stands up.
“Wait,” he says. “We’re going to do things a little differently tonight. As you all know, today is our Starbucks supplier’s last day and she has something she wants to say.”
“What?”
“Go ahead.” He motions for me to stand as he takes his seat.
I sigh and stand up, looking all around the circle. “Um...First of all, I would like to apologize for laughing at all of you over the past ninety days.
“We never heard you laughing.” “Yeah, you didn’t laugh.” “When was this?”
“I laughed at all of you.” I sigh and look over at my main source of entertainment—the woman who brought her childhood blanket to every session. “Especially you. You just cry so fucking much, you know? You cried when it wasn’t even your turn to talk, when we were discussing simple shit like what we did over the weekend, and you always—”
“Emerald...” Tim rolls his eyes. “Stay focused please.”
“Right...Um...” I shake my head and approach the center podium. “Let me start over.”
I notice everyone shifting in their seats. I’ve never stood at the podium before; standing up and talking is for simple chat, pleasantries. The podium is for the soul cleanse, the shit you want to vomit into the world with hopes of never eating again.
I take a deep breath and briefly close my eyes, telling myself that I can do this. When I open them again, I unfold my paper and start to read.
“My name is Emerald Anderson,” I pause, looking at how perfectly the words are written, how they get my point across, but they only paint half the picture.
I crumple it into a ball and sigh. “My name is Emerald Anderson and I’m not going to bullshit you...I just realized that I was alcoholic a few weeks ago, and I’m going to struggle with this for quite some time because I still wake up in the mornings wanting a drink—needing a drink. I’m tempted every day that I go to my current job and I’m honestly shocked that I haven’t snuck a sip yet because it’s way too easy...Way too fucking easy...”
The room is silent.
“I started drinking young, with my mom...She was my everything. Even when she did nothing for me, even when she forgot about the things that were important to me, I still thought she was my everything. I never thought twice about her teaching me how to roll blunts or take a perfect shot as a kid. I loved every second of it and was just grateful to have some of her attention.”
