by Jaci J
Zac would spend hours watching me play, watching me sing. He’s seen me stumble through new songs and fumble with difficult chords, but in this moment, I’ve never felt more self-conscience than I do right now in front of him.
He’s judging me, blaming me, hating me.
“She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love.”
The song ends, then the band behind me picks up, playing the tune to My Girl, one of my favorites. Holly’s dad scoops her up for their father-daughter dance, taking her hand from Luke’s. Her face lights up as her dad spins her away from her new husband.
It’s the happiest day of her life, and I hope it always stays that way.
Ducking away from the stage, I make a beeline for the bar.
“Honey, you were great,” my mom says, intercepting me halfway to my destination. Wrapping me up in a mom-style hug, she blocks my path to the glistening bottles of booze calling my name.
“Thanks, Mom,” I mutter, fiddling with my dress. Her support of me has never wavered, nor has my dad’s.
I step away from her when she lets me go, only to be stopped by my dad when he grabs my hand. “Not yet. You’re dancing with your old man.”
“Dad—”
“Dance with me, doll face,” he asks softly, and I cave, taking his offered hand.
“Okay,” I concede. Always a daddy’s girl, I could never tell him no.
We join the rest of the fathers and daughters on the floor surrounding Holly. My dad holds my hand in one of his large ones, and his other is around my waist. Leaning in he smiles, his blue eyes shining with love.
“Do you need to stand on my feet?”
The six-year-old me in a flower girl’s dress flashes through my mind. Spinning around with my dad on the dance floor, standing on his feet, giggling.
“No,” I laugh. “I’m a little better at dancin’ now.” But not by much. Dancing was never my thing. Tripping all over myself is more my style.
Swaying to the beat, I let my dad lead. He’s so happy; I can see it on his slightly aged face, the way his eyes smile.
“I’m happy you’re home.”
I consider telling him that I’m happy to be back too, but settle on, “I know. I can tell.”
I let him dance me around the floor, enjoying our father-daughter dance, because we don’t get many.
~~~~~~
Sitting at the “singles” table, I drink my wine and watch the party flow around me. My parents are chatting with other couples. The bride and groom are lost to each other. People dance, eat, and mingle with smiles on their faces, having the time of their lives.
Me? I feel alone in this sea of people; my place among everyone is lost.
There are three bridesmaids sitting at the other end of the table. They’re laughing, chatting closely. They’re girls I used to be friends with myself growing up. We fell out of touch over the years, and my absence has never been more evident than it is now. They’re not being mean, I’m just no longer a part of their world, and it feels strange to be on the outside looking in on something I was once a huge part of years ago.
Row is on the dance floor with her date, a handsome guy she met at work, which leaves me all alone.
“Lone wolfin’ it?” Justin asks, taking a seat in one of the many empty chairs that surround me. I watched Zac wander off with a few groomsmen, most likely to smoke. It’s something he always did when he was uncomfortable, but Justin’s lingered, dancing with Holly and his mom. Now he’s here to give me shit.
“Yep.”
“You’re such a loser,” Justin teases. There’s a crooked smile on his face when I look at him over the rim of my glass.
“You’re sittin’ with me, so what’s that say about you?” I ask, lifting a brow. “Losers attract other losers.”
“I’m just here to ask the prettiest girl in the room to dance, even if she is a loser.”
Smiling, he holds out a hand to me as he gets up from his seat. He doesn’t give me the chance to protest because he grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet. Finishing off my drink in a hurry, I set it on the table before Justin drags me to the dance floor.
The song changes and I about die when I hear it.
“Let’s cut a rug.”
“Really?” I laugh.
“Hell yeah.”
“Jesus, who put together this playlist?” I ask when What I Feel For You starts to play. I begin to die with laughter.
“Holly spent weeks selecting each song carefully. You don’t like it?”
Taking my hand, he starts dancing and it’s something akin to the Carlton. He’s so damn weird, but so damn funny.
“Oh, God. It’s so bad,” I groan around a winded laugh when he jerks me from side to side, dancing horribly. I can barely keep up.
“Feel the music, Em.” His smile is stretched across his handsome face. Justin pulls me in and wraps his arms around me, swaying to the ridiculous song. He’s taller than Zac, but a tad slimmer, more athletic in build, but just as handsome.
Looking down at me, he winks. “You ready to do this?”
“Do what…” The words die on my lips when he lets me go and spins me.
“This is my jam,” he teases, pulling me back in, only to spin me away again.
I needed this. I needed it so bad.
Relaxing, I let go, letting Justin dance me ragged in the sea of people.
“I forgot how much fun you are,” I huff, already out of breath. But Justin doesn’t let up.
“Way more fun than my brother.” He grins, spinning me away again.
Truth.
Walking back into the hall, I find the dance floor crowded with bodies, the music blaring. Everyone, including Emerson, are all dancing with the other hundred or so guests still going strong, in it for the long-haul. The grandparents, great aunts and uncles, kids, and tired attendees have all gone home. All that’s left now are the drunks, party animals, and all-night partiers.
Leaning against a back wall next to the bar, I watch the shit show play out on the dance floor, all the while smiling to myself like a fucking idiot.
Everyone is having a damn good time.
In the middle of the floor is Holly with her dress pulled up around her knees. Row, Emerson, all the bridesmaids, along with a few other friends are all dancing to Good Time. They’re drunk, line dancing around each other, falling and cracking up at the same time.
Emerson looks so happy.
I could tell she was struggling earlier, and part of me was happy about it. Misery loves company, right? But now she’s enjoying herself, in her element, and I’m still stewing in my misery.
I remember a time when that smile was my driving force. It was my reward and my downfall. That smile lit up my entire fucking world.
After she left, I wasn’t real damn sure what to do without her. I went through the motions of life, not really existing, only living.
I don’t want to hate her anymore. It’s killing me.
The song ends and Justin leaves the girls to their Tootsie Roll. Walking up to me, he grins. “Man, that girl wore me out.” When I don’t say anything, he asks, “Jealous?” He knows damn well I am. Sharing Emerson was never my thing.
“No.” I sip on my drink, ignoring his goading.
Shaking his head sadly, he motions for the bartender and says to me, “You ever gonna forgive her? She was eighteen.”
“You ever gonna mind your own goddamn business?” I don’t know why Justin cares so fucking much. He cared about Emerson, but I didn’t know he gave that big of a fuck about her and the shit we went through.
“You’re my brother. I just want to see you happy, man.”
“I am happy,” I mutter into my glass, feeling anything but happy with this conversation.
A disbelieving laugh escapes him. “Oh yeah? What the hell do you have to be happy about?” Taking his drink from bartender, he thanks her before leveling me with a look that says he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
I was happy, but t
hat was ten years ago, and I haven’t found that kind of happiness since.
“Nadia.” Nadia makes me happy. Well, I thought she did.
He laughs again. I’m fucking thrilled he’s finding me so goddamn funny tonight.
“And where is she?” he asks, looking around. “Not here makin’ you happy.”
“She’s busy.”
“Suuuure,” he taunts, walking off with his drink in one hand and a spare in the other.
~~~~~~
“Ugh, stupid cliché dance songs.” The blonde next to me moans to herself, looking directly at me from under her lashes. She’s been lingering close for the last hour, watching me, smiling. I vaguely remember her face from high school, but other than that, I’m not real clear as to who she is, why she’s here, or why she’s looking at me like she wants to devour me.
“Yeah,” I say while watching the dance floor. The girls have been at it for a while. They’re all sloppy drunk at this point, but they’re having the time of their lives.
“I’m Kayla,” she offers.
“Zac,” I say absently, not taking my eyes off Em.
I know this Kayla chick is looking for a hook up. The tight skirt and the fuck me look tells me this. I’d say if it weren’t for Nadia I’d be interested, but I’d be lying. It’s because of Emerson I’m still standing here, drinking alone.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asks as she moves in closer.
“Nah.” There is no point in bullshitting her. I don’t have a fucking clue who she is.
“We had Spanish together.” She says it like that should jog my memory. It’s been years, there is no way in hell I’d remember her. I don’t remember much of high school outside of Em, football, and my friends.
When I shrug, she proclaims, “I had the biggest crush on you.” She giggles, like it’s some great secret. “But you were always just so focused on Emerson and football to notice me.”
“Yeah.” Sounds like me. Not a whole fuck of a lot has changed since then either, because here I am, still focused on Emerson.
“You still look the same,” I hear her say, but I’m mesmerized by the beautiful blonde in the black dress. She snags the drink from my brother’s outstretched hand before disappearing through a door.
I can’t do this anymore.
Something snaps inside of me.
I have to go after her.
I’ve drunk the well damn near dry. I know better. There is no excuse for what I’m about to do.
Walking through the double glass doors, out onto the large deck that circles the entire building, I find Emerson, sitting on the deck railing.
I walk over and touch her. Nothing about it feels wrong. Everything about it feels right. That’s all I need to know.
Zac’s large hand lingers on the small of my back as he leans in behind me, his forearm resting on the railing next to my leg.
“You look gorgeous tonight.” His words are rough against my skin as he speaks close to my shoulder.
Inhaling sharply, I smell spicy cologne and fresh cut cedar.
“Thank you,” I whisper, barely able to get the words past my lips.
“Mmhmm,” he hums, distracted.
“You didn’t save me a dance. Next time?”
“Next time, Emerson. Now turn around,” he demands.
I don’t hesitate. I turn around on the railing, bringing us eye to eye with each other. Zac’s gaze roams down my body. Touching my dress, he rubs the material between his thumb and finger, smiling sadly.
“You wore a dress just like this the night you let me fuck you for the first time.” His voice is distant, lost in the memory.
I shiver, lost in the same memory. I was sixteen, and it was in the back of his truck. My black lace prom dress hiked up around my hips. His hands all over my unexplored body. It’s all so vivid.
“That was a good night,” I say quietly.
“Yeah. It was,” he agrees.
“How drunk are you?” I ask, laughing quietly to myself as he pushes his way between my thighs.
His eyes lock onto mine and there’s nothing funny reflected back in them. “Not drunk enough to be out here with you while havin’ thoughts of this dress on the floor.”
“Zac.” I sigh, knowing I shouldn’t let this happen, but I can’t stop it. I want it.
He groans, his hands pushing the material of my dress up. “Don’t. Don’t say my name like that,” he pleads. The soft chiffon trails up my legs as he leans in closer, bringing us chest to chest.
My dress is dangerously high, the skin of my thigh exposed to the cool air. Zac doesn’t leave them bare for long. His large, rough hands rest indecently high on my thighs.
Pulling him in closer, I smile when he reaches up to push a curl off my forehead. “I shouldn’t be touchin’ you.” His hand instantly reclaims its spot on my thigh.
“Yes, you should.”
“No, I shouldn’t. We both know this is wrong.”
Whore.
Cheater.
I couldn’t care less what people call me. Zac was mine, and in my mind, he always will be.
When I don’t say anything, he closes his eyes and swallows hard. “Don’t do this to me, Emerson.”
Do this to him? What about me?
“You came out here after me,” I point out. “You’re the one touching me.” I nod down out his hardness pressed into my belly.
“I can’t fuckin’ function when you’re around. I don’t know what I’m doin’.”
One hand leaves my thigh and wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me in.
“The feeling is mutual,” I murmur, my lips so close to his I can practically taste him. “Zac,” I whisper when I’m inches from his lips.
“Say the word.” he growls. Heat rolls off him in waves, his gaze focused and intense. The air between us is thick. My heart’s hammering in my chest. Suddenly, everything is too much. I want him so much I feel drunk with it. “Just say yes, Emerson.”
I want to tell him no, but I don’t. I can’t. I won’t.
“Emerson.”
“Jesus.” Justin’s voice floats through the back door. Zac’s head drops to my chest in defeat. He pulls me in, holding me like it’s the last time and suddenly, I feel really fucking sick at the idea.
“The fuck you doin’?” Justin asks in an accusing tone.
“Go back inside,” Zac growls against my chest.
“Don’t do somethin’ you’re gonna regret in the morning, Zac.” My heart seizes. That stings. “Come on, man. Let’s get another drink and head home. You need to leave Em alone tonight,” he says, his voice sad. I want to beg Zac to stay with me, plead with him not to leave me alone, but the words are dead in my mouth.
Justin walks all the way out onto the deck when Zac doesn’t move away from me.
“Don’t,” Zac growls
“I’ll drive you home.” Justin grabs Zac’s shoulder when he doesn’t move. Pulling him away, Justin frowns towards the ground. “Don’t go making this kinda decision when you’re both drunk off your asses. Neither one of you deserve that. Figure out what you want when you’re ready, and do it with clear heads. I don’t wanna see either of you regret it in the morning.”
Zac steps back from me, his head down. Shoving his hands into his pockets he turns away, his back to me.
“Yeah. Whatever.”
Walking away, he stops in the doorway and finally looks back at me. Dress a mess and tears in my eyes, I look exactly like I feel—shit. Regret shines brightly in his eyes. Regret for what happened or for leaving, I’m not sure.
He turns away and walks through the door. All I can do is I watch him go.
Blinking, I let a single tear fall, promising myself it’s the last one I’ll ever cry over Zac Moore.
~~~~~~
Leaving my dress in a pile on the bedroom floor, I walk out the door, heading for the bathroom.
Going through the motions, I throw my hair into a messy bun and wash my face, all while avoiding
the mirror. I’m not ready to face the look in my eyes. It’s the look of a sad, sad woman, I’m sure.
I’m not sure if I’m stupid or just hopeless. Probably both.
Scrubbing at my eyes, I change my mind and take a look at myself in the mirror and grimace at what’s reflected. Mascara runs down my cheeks and puffy red eyes stare back.
Cute.
My phone rings from the futon. I debate on letting it ring, but don’t, hope propelling my feet towards it.
I head for the small living room. Grabbing my phone, I see an unknown number scrawled across the screen.
“Hello?”
“Emerson?” Justin sounds out of breath.
“Justin?”
“Zac’s on his way there. He came home to…”
“EMERSON!” Zac’s voice booms through the door at the same moment the words leave Justin’s mouth.
I jump.
Spinning around, I stare at the door as the wood cracks from what I can only assume is the weight of his body hitting it.
“Open the motherfucking door!”
“Shit,” Justin swears into the phone. “I’ll be there to get him as soon as I can.” He hangs up and for a moment, everything is silent until the small front door smashes into the wall behind it.
I flinch at the sound, immediately backing away from the door.
Zac’s face is tormented and furious as he stares at me from the doorway, which hangs limply from the hinges.
“I fucking hate you!” he yells, slurring, pointing an angry finger at me.
I feel like I’ve been slapped. I knew, deep down, that he felt this way about me. I’ve been throwing it in his face, about hating me, but actually hearing it from his mouth, his heart, tears me to pieces.
“Zac,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me.
“Don’t!” he rages. “Don’t say my fucking name like that.”
My heart finally hits bottom and implodes on impact.
Stalking into the room, he comes for me. I step back again, away from him. Planting myself on a small kitchen chair I watch him pace.
“It’s your fault I’m this way. You fucked with my head. You broke my fucking heart and then left me here, alone, to try to put the goddamn thing back together. I’ve never been the same since.”
