by Eliza Freer
Tassie nods her head, “I know, but Cade pulled the trigger because he’s a bully. That’s my point. Whoever is doing this feels like you’re a threat for whatever reason, but I don’t think they thought this through. If it’s a thought out plan, it’s a bad one. It doesn’t make you look bad to the football team, they know who you are and you’re tight with them and it’s not like that, so this just hurts you personally. This is a mean girl tactic. It’s bullying and shaming and lies, and that usually comes out of some sort of jealousy.”
I look up at the ceiling, thinking. “So what you’re saying is this is just to torture me because of who I’m close to, not to actually get them close to anyone. I’m not being used this time, just being punished.”
Tassie keeps nodding, “Yes. So, who have you pissed off that would do something like that? This doesn’t seem like something a guy would do, unless you rejected someone lately, but they usually go for more of the frigid bitch variety. So think girl. Who is so jealous of you they’d pull this stunt? It’s obviously about the guys, about how you’re close with them, but it won’t get this person close to them either.”
Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in my head. “That stalker red head from the party. It’s gotta be her. Problem is, there’s no proof, but Blake’s whole thing that night was getting rid of her. They don’t give her the time of day and think she’s crazy, so seeing them around me and being affectionate or whatever has to kill her.”
Tassie gets a serious, angry face on. “That fucking bitch. Okay, so one, you need to tell Riley it might be her, and two, if she is crazy, and that jealous from one tiny interaction, she might go digging. So you should prepare yourself for what she might find, and what she might do with it.”
I sigh. “Shit, I didn't even consider that.” I pull out my phone and text Riley.
ME: Ry, i think tassie and i figured it out. gotta be that red headed stalker chick. she’s a crazy mean girl who wants you guys but thinks i have you.
RILEY: That fucking bitch.
ME: Haha. that’s what tassie said. exact words. so what now?
RILEY: She’ll probably be at the next party, but that’s not for awhile. i’ll try and track her down, but we should be careful. she’s a wild card. she might try and do worse if we corner her without proof or anything.
ME: *sigh* i know. i just wanted to tell you what we’re thinking. keep your head on a swivel ry. i’d rather deal with this then something happen to you guys
RILEY: love you too East.
I smile at that and toss my phone down on the bed. I look up at Tassie. “Thank you for coming over even though I explicitly told you not to. I love you, Tass.”
She leans over and gives me a hug. “I love you too. Now, pizza? I think since I cracked the case, you should pay.” Tassie smiles at me before hopping up from the bed and heading down the stairs. She yells over her shoulder, “Get your ass down here, Yankee, I’m starving, and we’re having an ice cream appetizer”
I grab my phone, jump up from the bed and head down the stairs after her. “Keep your panties on. I’m coming.” I call in our order as she pulls the ice cream from the freezer and grabs two spoons.
She passes me a spoon. “Bowls are pointless. Now, tell me about Wilder. What’s going on there?”
I chuckle as I shovel ice cream into my mouth. “So much.” I smile at her as she dives into the ice cream for another giant spoonful. I wonder if Riley will come over and eat ice cream and talk about boys with me once Tassie leaves. Unlikely, but it’s not like anyone could replace her anyway.
Chapter 11
When Tassie leaves it’s after ten at night, and I'm definitely ready for bed after an emotionally exhausting day. Dad came home while Tassie was still over. At that point we were past the tears and onto the boy talk, so no suspicions were aroused. I’ll tell him eventually. If I have to. I get to avoid that conversation now since he headed to bed early tonight, not that I blame him. With practices, strategy sessions, watching film and being outdoors so often in this ridiculous Texas heat, I’d be drained too.
I take a longer than normal shower, and just as I’m molding my pillow to the perfect shape for my head, my phone buzzes with a new text.
WILDER: How do you feel about nature?
I smile. I thought he’d have our date tomorrow already mapped out. He planned it to be a full day of activities, whatever that means.
ME: Overrated.
WILDER: Wait, seriously?
ME: Definitely. hate nature, it’s dumb. nature is boring
ME: I thought you’d have our whole day date already mapped out there Sacagawea?
My phone rings, Wilder’s name flashing on my screen. I stay hunkered down in my
pillows, now with a stupid smile on my face.
“Yes?” I answer with as much attitude as I can muster into that one word.
“Couple of things. You hate nature? Sarcasm is hard to tell in texts, except I always assume you’re being sarcastic, so I wanted to see if you legitimately hate nature.”
I chuckle. “I’m being totally for real. The only good thing about nature is conquering it. Like, if I were to jump over trees or brooks or something and make nature my bitch and let it know it can’t stop me from going where I want, then nature is about a four on a one to ten scale. Otherwise, negative one hundred.”
Wilder lets out a disbelieving laugh. “How often are you jumping over trees and brooks? Was that like, gym class where you’re from?”
I groan, “We’re not hillbillies. It’s not like we didn’t have man made structures in Ohio. I didn’t live in a log cabin. My grandma didn’t live in the spare room and spend all her time canning fruit and making preserves. Woods exist there. Not like here where it’s mostly tumbleweeds or whatever, but actual nature that people like. Not me, of course, but when I had to be out, I only did the fun stuff.”
He laughs. “Okay, so a no to nature. Second thing, Sacagawea? Explain.”
“Like, you don’t know who Sacagawea is? Like that kind of explanation?” I let a long pause take place. “I don’t know if I can go out with you.”
He scoffs, “I know who Sacagawea is. Jesus. I might be devilishly handsome and the most charming man you’ve ever met, who clearly coasts by only on my looks, from the way you tell it, but I did go to elementary school at least. I frequented history class. I mean, why call me that?”
“Well, I would’ve said Lewis and Clark, but that was a bit long for a quick quip about having something mapped out, ya know, like an exploration, so I went with Sacagawea. She was better anyway. Be honored, you snob. And, yes, you are correct, I do think those things about you.”
He laughs again. It’s this husky, manly thing and it makes me blush even over the phone. There’s no point in denying this guy affects me. Every time he touches me or smiles at me or stares at me in that intense way, I get all warm and flustered. I hate it, sort of.
“You’re not giving me much to go on, East.”
“Hey, pal, I’m not here to help you plan our date. You won this because my friend is a traitor, not because I was ready to give in to dating you yet. If you don’t have any ideas then it could be an easy, normal, evening date where you pick me up and we sit in silence for a couple hours at a movie and then grab some food or something.”
“A, please find something better than pal. B, I won fair and square because even your friends know you’re too damn stubborn for your own good, and you were holding out just for the sake of holding out, not even because you wanted to anymore. You straight up just admitted you were going to go out with me anyway, you just wanted to see how long I’d chase. C, I'm not interested in normal dates and I don’t NEED your help, I was only being considerate.”
My breath hitches a little and I give into the more vulnerable questions. Why not, it’s not like he can see me turn cherry red when he answers. It’s safer this way. “How long?”
“How long what, East?”
“Ho
w long would you have chased, Wy?
Now I hear his breath hitch on the line. So I’m not the only one affected, and I wonder if it’s because I actually used a nickname for him, which I’ve only done once before. I like affecting him. It’s empowering to have someone like him get so wrapped up in someone like me.
He clears his throat. “Honestly?”
“Always. I don’t like lies or half-truths.” It’s probably good he knows this now. I don’t deal with liars. I have no interest in going down that path again.
He sighs. “Until you said yes. However long that took.” He’s quiet for a minute. “Like I said, there’s some connection here. Some reason I’m more me with you than most people. I…like that. I probably like you too much already, really, but that’s more your fault than mine.”
I’m quiet for awhile, knowing I could reveal a bit about how I feel about him too, but not knowing if I want to yet. But, if he asks, I will. I don’t want a liar and I don’t want to be a liar.
“East?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I just…nothing. I’m here.”
“How long?”
I smile. "How long what?”
“How long would you have made me chase? And you know full well I wouldn’t have stopped.”
I laugh. “I never would’ve agreed to that stupid game if I wasn't already caving. I nearly said yes the first time you asked me, but thought that’d help your ego too much. Nothing worth having comes easy.”
“You’re definitely not easy, but very worth having. If I get that lucky, I mean.”
I snort. “What kind of lucky are we talking about here, perv?”
He gives a light chuckle. “The kind where I know I have you. Where I get to have you.”
My heart starts beating rapidly in my chest. For a guy that seems so cocky and sure of himself and definitely makes it seem like he’s a huge player, he’s incredibly sweet and romantic. Already giving more of himself away that I ever have. I figure I should return the gesture.
I sigh. “Me too, ya know.”
“You too what?”
I pause. “I probably like you too much already, too.” I pause again. This next confession is weird, but whatever. I’m weird. “You know the only part of the woods I like?”
I can hear his smile through the phone. “What part’s that, East? You listed it as a negative one hundred.”
“The way it smells. But that’s more about you than actual nature.”
He laughs. “What do you mean it’s more about me?”
I groan, knowing I opened this door so I have to finish this ridiculous statement. “You smell like the woods. Like outdoors. Like, fresh air and pine trees and pure masculinity. That’s weird. It’s a weird thing to say. Sorry.”
I bury my face in my pillow. “Okay, I’m going now. I’m thoroughly embarrassed from afar. We need something to talk about tomorrow.”
“East, wait.”
I groan, “What is it, Wy?”
He sighs. In the most manly way possible, of course. “You smell like springtime and vanilla. It’s not a weird thing to say. I’m actually…I don’t know…actually weirdly happy you notice. That you notice things about me, even though you pretend to not care.”
I laugh. “Well, maybe I just noticed because I hate nature and outdoors, and I was surprised I didn’t hate it on you.”
He pauses. “I don’t think that’s it. And I don't think you think that either.”
I sigh and talk into my pillow. “No, I don’t.”
“I’ll see you at eleven tomorrow morning, kitten. Good night.”
I groan. “For the kitten comment, I’m making sure my dad is home so he can interrogate you. But, yeah, see you tomorrow. Good night.”
I hear him laugh heartily before I hang up from the call. I know I’m probably incredibly flushed, and a really happy warmth is radiating from me. I haven’t had a guy make me feel this special or noticed since before I left Ohio. And that was all a sham. Wilder talks to me and looks at me like he sees me and I’m beautiful and not broken and scared. And that is scary.
I know by opening up so much of myself to him that he could really hurt me. That he could hurt me in a way that Cade didn’t, that he couldn’t because I didn’t let him see the fractured parts of me. The cracks created by my lack of biological roots. Of wondering where I come from. I’ve already let Wilder see some of my fractures, some of my cracks. And I know it won’t take long before he gets a glimpse at all my broken pieces. Even though I’ve put myself back together with time and steel, he has the ability to unravel me. If I let him see all of me, all of my baggage and bullshit, he can crush me like Cade couldn’t. And the truly scary part, is I know I’m going to let him see all that. That I’m already giving him that power and control over my duct taped heart, and there’s nothing I can do to stop myself. I’ve already, without my knowledge or permission, let myself start to fall.
Chapter 12
Never one to miss a chance to knock Wilder’s ego down a few pegs, before I go to bed that night I stick a post-it note on Dad’s door so I’m sure he’ll see it in the morning.
Dad-
Need to prove a point. Have someone picking me up at 11 AM tomorrow and need you to be home to do your Dad thing. PLEEEEEEEEAAAAASE.
Remember, I love you voluntarily, and I’m counting on you to be an aggressive father and a little embarrassing.
I love you
E
********************
The next morning as I stand in front of my closet, the only thing I know we aren’t doing is hanging out in nature. I stick with my skinny jeans, gray and red boots and a red v-neck t-shirt. I’m bringing a bomber jacket with me just in case it’s needed to complete my casually cool attire. I leave my hair down, but since I never leave home without a ponytail holder, I’m covered on all fronts.
I make my way down the stairs and my dad is in the kitchen making coffee.
“Pops! Thanks for the assist. Can you pour me some of that? I’ll be useless. Or, not really useless just quite bitchy. Oohh, did you get donuts this morning?”
“Coffee coming up, and yes I even got you one of those glazed twisty ones that you like. Even though all glazed donuts taste alike, but you do what makes you happy, baby.”
“God, I knew I loved you for a reason. Singular. Just one.” I take a large bite of my donut watching my dad fill up my coffee cup. My rather large Ravenclaw house coffee cup.
“For the record, I recently ordered a new, more grateful daughter from a catalogue. I figure if I picked wrong the first time, maybe this time I’ll get it right.”
I laugh. “So was that a special appendix of the mail order bride catalogue, and since no one struck your fancy there you just figured a total overhaul redo? Worked out okay the first time.”
Dad gets a wistful look in his eyes and the humor fades. He walks around the counter and gives me a big hug and kiss on the cheek. “Couldn’t have asked for anyone better or more perfect.”
I hug him back and return the cheek kiss. “Same, same.”
He pulls away and looks me over. “Okay, what do I need to know about this boy? What are his weakness? How can I break down his defenses?”
I laugh at my dad and his use of football strategy for my date. “Well, his name is Wilder. He’s a lot like me. Incredibly good looking, smart, charming, highly sought after, but without the football team accompanying his every move therefore making dating quite difficult.”
Dad just looks at me and gives me a sideways smirk. “Um hum. What else?”
“Well also, you don’t need to break him down like you would an opponents defense, but I’d say that I love to crack into that ego. I think a lot of it is for show, but puncturing holes in that cockiness is a lot of fun. So I’d say just push that I’m amazing, and he’s so lucky to have the honor of dating me, you might kill him, you have a full team of incredibly big and strong men at your disposal, and he’s likely not good enough
for me or as good as he thinks he is. Ya know, probably everything you’re already thinking.”
“So, be myself. Done.”
I smile at my dad just as the doorbell rings. I let out a low chuckle preparing myself for the games about to begin. I shove the rest of my donut in my mouth, wipe my hands and open the door to see Wilder on the porch donning his trademark sexy-and-he-knows-it sideways smile.
“Wilder, won’t you please come in.”
He takes a tentative step inside as he sees my dad round the corner from the kitchen to stand in our little foyer. I move back into the kitchen to grab my coffee and lean against the staircase railing to watch the interaction.
“Hello, Mr. Collins. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Easton has told me a lot about you.”
Dad gets into his Coach stance, legs spread apart, scowl and arms crossed over his chest. He looks down at Wilder, even though they’re the same height. It’s all about presence.
“Well. Wilder…what’s your last name?”
“Sullivan, sir.”
“I think you should call me Coach. You know why that is Sullivan?’
Wilder shifts and looks uncomfortable. Trying to keep consistent eye contact with my dad and looking towards me for support. I just wink at him. “No, sir…Coach. Sorry. No Coach, why is that?”
“Because I’m ruthless and relentless with my players. I expect perfection, or damn near close, and that they treat the game, and the team, with great reverence. That they’re lucky to be a part of something so magical. That they’d never dream of doing anything to hurt the team and wreck its bright future. Or their own bright futures come to think of it.This, son, is also what I expect from you. Do you think you can handle that, or are you confused by simple metaphors?”
