“Are you sure?”
He smiles that boyish smile that makes me feel things I shouldn’t. “Absolutely, let’s do this, Emma Lynn.”
“Alright then.”
We drive with the radio on, letting the music drown out our uncertainties. I can tell he’s nervous by the way he runs his hands through his hair ever so often. I am too and I’m sure he knows it. He’s already realized I play with my glasses when I’m nervous, and I can’t count how many times I’ve readjusted them already.
I should’ve said no to coming.
He shouldn’t have asked me.
Maybe he was just being polite and my job was to turn the invitation down.
Zack breaks the awkward silence that’s taken over the car. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that you’re regretting inviting me over to your house and I should’ve said no.”
“Can I be honest?”
Oh, no. Here it comes. We’re forty-five minutes into this car ride and it’ll be awkward driving the whole way back with him. Maybe he’ll get out and save me the embarrassment so I can drive home alone.
“Sure.”
“I shouldn’t have invited you.”
And there it is.
“Oh.” I knew it! I look around, figuring out where I can pull a U-turn.
“I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to.”
“I should’ve made it easier on you by saying no.” But I wanted to spend more time with you. I don’t say those words out loud.
It’s too much.
Too much, too soon and I have no idea why I’m feeling this way.
“Why didn’t you?” he asks. His tone isn’t accusatory—just curious.
I bite my lip and keep my eyes on the road. “I thought it might be nice,” I answer honestly.
I flick my eyes toward him to find him watching me with a smile on his face. “Okay. So we were both a little nervous about this,” he says with a nervous chuckle.
“Which makes sense because in like an hour, I’ll be meeting your parents.”
“Yeah…” He takes a deep breath. “About that…”
“What about it?” I ask. “Please tell me you’re not taking me somewhere to kill me.”
“You’re the one driving,” he says, laughing out loud. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I just want to tell you a little about my parents before we get to my house.”
The thought of meeting them scares the life out of me. I’m awkward when it comes to meeting new people. It’s why most of my relationships are with fictional characters. Now I know how Zoe was feeling earlier.
“Okay,” I say, dragging out the word.
“I don’t have a car,” he says.
I glance at him quickly. “A lot of people don’t have cars.” I wonder what that has to do with me meeting his parents.
“I can’t afford to buy a car.”
Right. Well neither could I. “Most people can’t. I’m sure the students driving at Bragan got their parents to buy their cars—myself included.”
“My parents can’t afford to buy me one.”
What is this whole obsession with cars?
“It’s not like you need one. You live and play football on campus, and whenever you have an away game, the school transports you,” I reason. A car isn’t really a necessity.
“Why is this so hard?” I hear him mutter under his breath.
“Not having a car? I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“My family isn’t rich.”
“Okay.”
His brows rise. “Okay?” he echoes.
“Yes, okay.” I really don’t understand what’s happening.
“You’re not going to ask me anything?”
Am I supposed to? “What do you want me to ask?”
“My family is poor.” His words come out in a rush and I realize this is what he’s been trying to tell me.
It’s a little unexpected considering most of the students at Bragan come from wealthy families, but it’s not mind-blowing. “That’s what you were so afraid to tell me?”
“Who said I was afraid?”
“The look on your face right now, and the fact that you almost pulled your hair out earlier.”
He sighs. “I don’t tell people much about my life, but since you’re going to meet my parents, I thought you should know.”
“That they can’t afford to buy you a car? Will it come up during dinner?” I joke.
He smiles at my attempt to lighten the mood. “My dad lost his job,” he says and I can sense the worry in his voice.
I don’t know what I did to gain his trust, but I wish I could make it all better. I focus on the road ahead. “How long ago?”
“A few weeks now.”
“How are things holding up?” The fact that his family is going through a rough time is another reason I shouldn’t be going to his house. I don’t want to impose.
“I’m picking up more shifts at work to try and help however I can.”
My eyes widen. “You work?” I’ve never met a student at Bragan with a real job.
“I have a job nearby. That’s the reason why my schedule changes weekly.”
Now it makes sense.
“How many hours are you working?”
“Roughly thirty a week. I’ve been picking up more here and there whenever possible. Could you do me a favor?”
“What’s up?”
“Don’t mention it to my parents. They don’t know.”
“They don’t know you have a job as well as play football, train and study?”
“Yeah. They’d feel guilty if they thought I wasn’t focusing on school. Not telling them is the better option.”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to go to your house?” I know it’s too late to turn around now, but at the same time, it isn’t. I could always drop him off and drive away.
“I am… Unless you don’t want to anymore?”
“I want to go. I just don’t want to impose.”
“You’re not imposing. They’ll love meeting you.”
I smile nervously. “Let’s hope so.”
“They might think you’re my…”
“I’m your what? Your tutor?”
“No. They’ll think you’re my girlfriend. They don’t know I have a tutor.”
ZACK
“You didn’t tell them you have a tutor?” she asks, surprised. Shoot, she’s not the only surprised one today. I can’t believe how much I’ve shared. What’s more shocking is she didn’t even bat an eyelid at my revelation.
I don’t know why I overshared. I guess I just feel comfortable around her.
“They don’t know I’m failing biology.”
“You failed biology,” she corrects, sassy as ever.
“Technically, it’s not final so, I can un-fail it.”
“How come you didn’t tell them?” she asks. “You didn’t want them to worry about something else.” She answers her own question.
I nod. “Worrying about my dad’s lack of employment is enough for them.”
“I get that. So, what do you want me to tell them when they ask who I am?”
“Just tell them you’re Emma.”
“Emma—not-your-tutor-and-also-not-your-girlfriend?” she says, her eyes firmly on the road.
I take advantage of that, taking her in. Girlfriend. That word used to scare me, but hearing it on Emma’s lips as she describes our relationship, or lack thereof, makes me think about it in a whole different way—a hopeful way. “Just Emma,” I tell her.
“Got it. Just Emma.”
I look at the trees that pass us but don’t say much else. I don’t know how it happened, but Emma somehow knows more about me in one hour than most of the guys I’ve lived and played football with for the last three years.
“Hey,” she says, lowering the volume on the radio.
“What’s up?”
“What are you th
inking about?”
“How can you tell I’m thinking?”
She flashes her gorgeous eyes my way briefly. “You haven’t said anything for the last twenty minutes. Usually, I have trouble getting you to shut up.”
“You try and get me to shut up?” I ask, pretending to be insulted.
She laughs and her laughter releases some of the tension I feel building. “Yes. Especially that first day at the library.”
“And now you want me to speak… hmm.” I turn to face her, knowing she won’t be able to look back at me. “It sounds like you miss the sound of my voice.”
“Stop avoiding the question. What are you thinking about?”
“I’m thinking that you—somehow—know more about me than most of my housemates.”
“Are you saying your football friends don’t know you talk a lot?”
I like that she teases me. “Oh, they know I talk a lot.”
“Then what do I know that they don’t?”
The question sucks the humor from the air. “They don’t know about my family situation.”
“None of them?” she asks, her hand leaving the steering wheel as she tucks a strand of hair
behind her ear.
“A few.”
“Colton and Jesse?”
“How’d you guess?”
“Seems like you tell them everything.”
“You ain’t wrong.”
“How come you tell them?”
“They’re good guys—like brothers to me.”
“Hmm,” she says and I can sense her hesitation.
“Why is the thought of good football players surprising?” I ask, immediately feeling like a jerk. “Ah…your dad.”
She nods.
“Don’t judge us all based on him. He sounds like a real dick. If I knew the guy, I’d have some choice words for him.”
Emma’s cheeks redden. Then, like clockwork, she fixes her glasses once again. Maybe she’s surprised I’d stand up for her.
“So, why me?” she questions.
“Why you, what?”
“You mentioned I know more about you than most of the guys you share a field and house with. Even though we’ve seen each other here and there, we’ve just recently started talking—because I’m tutoring you. So, why did you share something that seems so private with me?”
She asks the same question I’ve been asking myself since the moment I started telling her about my home situation—the question I’m still mulling over. “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “Talking to you is just…easy.”
She nods. “Huh.”
“What?”
“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that talking to me is easy.”
“Do you think you’re not an easy person to talk to?”
“I’m more of a bookworm, so I spend more time lost in the pages than talking to people. They find that off putting.”
“You have no issue talking to me.”
“You’re hard not to talk to.”
Interesting. Emma likes talking to me then. “Why do you think that is?” I press because when it comes to Emma, I always want to know more.
“I don’t know.”
Feeling like it’s time to change the topic before we delve too deep into things neither one of us understands, I come up with the perfect thing to ask her. “So, about books…”
“What about them?”
“Fifty Shades?” I say, laughing the moment the words leave my mouth.
She narrows her eyes at me. “What about it?”
“I didn’t peg you as the type to read those sort of books.”
“What sort of books?” she challenges. She’s baiting me, I realize, trying to make me go into details I’d rather avoid.
I run my fingers through my hair. “Ones with sex and bondage stuff.” I cringe at the way the word ‘sex’ stumbles out of my mouth.
“We’re here,” she announces, avoiding my question and bringing the car to a stop in front of my house. I didn’t even realize we were that close.
“Saved by the bell,” I tell her.
She shrugs as she shuts off the car. “I don’t know about that. I still have to survive your parents.”
“True that.” I know she’s nervous, but she shouldn’t be. She’s a sweet girl and I’m sure my parents will love her. Shoot. I find myself liking her more than I should and I’m a harder person to please than they are.
“I’m so scared.”
“Don’t be.”
“I haven’t known you for long, and now I’ll be having Christmas dinner at your family’s house,” she says, ignoring my words.
She’s not wrong though—this is crazy—but for some reason, I’m happy she came. Yes, I’m concerned she’ll see that my house isn’t fancy and my parents aren’t as educated as she may be used to, but at the same time, I’m not. Emma makes me feel like I can just be myself and that’s good enough.
I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I can see the wheels turning. “I know it happened unexpectedly, but it feels right.”
She turns to me and nods resolutely. “Let’s do this then,” she says, slamming her hands on the steering wheel and accidentally hitting the horn. “Shit! Sorry!”
I laugh at how flustered she is. I didn’t even think she swore. Let’s add that to the list of things I never expected of my tutor.
I look toward my house to find the front door open, parents walking in our direction.
I turn to Emma. “Well, now we have less time to freak out because my parents are staring at us.” I point in their direction.
“I’m not ready!” she exclaims, taking deep breaths.
“Come on,” I tell her, opening the passenger side door and stepping out.
“Here we go,” I hear her say before she opens her door too.
24
ZACK
“Hey, Mom and Dad,” I say, closing the distance between us.
My mother opens her arms and I walk into her embrace. “Hey, Zack. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Could you let go of the boy already so I can hug him too?” my dad says and Mom chuckles. She hugs me for a few more seconds before finally letting go.
My dad hugs me next. “You should visit us more often.”
I would if I didn’t have practice, classes and work. “I’ll try, Dad,” I tell him.
“And who’s this?” my mother asks, and I look behind me to find Emma standing awkwardly a few feet away.
“Oh, her?” I ask, pointing. “She’s my Uber driver. I told her she could use our bathroom.” I try my best to not laugh, but the moment Emma looks at me with wide eyes, I can’t help it.
“Zack Hayes!” Mom admonishes.
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. That’s Emma. I invited her over to have dinner with us.”
My mom leaves my side and heads to Emma, whose arms are now crossed in front of her. She’s nervous. My joke obviously didn’t really help loosen her up.
Mom shakes her head. “Please don’t mind my boy,” she says. “We’ve taught him better than this, but he thinks he’s funny.” When Emma smiles, I feel the knot in my stomach disappear.
“Tell me about it,” Emma says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hayes.” She extends her hand, but my mom goes straight in for the hug.
I watch as Emma hugs my mother back—tentatively at first—then lovingly.
“You can call me Margaret.”
“Got it,” Emma says, stepping back.
“I’m Stephen,” my dad says, and this time it’s him who extends his hand to Emma.
“Hey, I know you’re both really excited I brought a girl home with me, but can we take it inside? It’s cold as fu…heck outside,” I say. There’s a ‘no swearing’ rule at my house that I’ve never gone against and never will. I don’t know what the consequences are, but I’m not about to test the limits, especially with a visitor here.
“Of course, let’s go inside!” My mom takes Emma’s hand and leads her up the
porch stairs and through the front door. My dad and I walk in behind them.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing home a guest?” my mother asks as we settle into the living room. I don’t miss the questioning glance Emma throws my way.
“It was sort of a last-minute thing, and I didn’t want to give you a heads up because you’d ask her a million questions.”
When Mia, Colton and I came over the last time, I told them ahead of time and instead of letting us ask the questions, my mom turned it into an interrogation.
“We’re so glad you decided to come,” my dad says.
“You’re the first girl Zack’s brought home with him in a while,” Mom adds.
I look at Emma and wink.
“A while… Really?” she says, surprised.
“How long has it been, son? A few years at least, right?” my dad says, calling me out.
“It hasn’t been that long.”
“I think the last girl he brought home was his high school girlfriend, the one he was in love with,” Mom says.
“I was not in love with her,” I argue, annoyed the conversation has taken this turn.
“You were a love-sick puppy,” Mom says. Turning to Emma, she adds, “After her, we never thought he’d bring anyone else home again.”
I groan. I love my parents, I do, but sometimes they miss the cues I send them—like the way my eyes widen in mortification as I desperately try to get them to stop.
“Well, I guess you guys were wrong,” I say half-jokingly.
“Sorry to come into your home unannounced,” Emma says from her place beside me on the couch.
“Nonsense. Having two Hayes men in the same house makes me feel outnumbered. I’m glad to have a girl on my side.”
Emma smiles at my mom’s words and, judging by the deep breath she takes, I know she’s relieved.
“How long are you guys staying?” Dad asks.
“We’re leaving tonight,” I tell them.
“Tonight?” My mom sounds so disappointed.
I look between them, trying to ignore the guilt. “Yeah.”
“Why aren’t you staying overnight?”
Well, that had been my intention, but I wasn’t about to ask my tutor to spend the night at my parents’ house.
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