Igniting the Wild Sparks

by Alexander, Ren

  He agitatedly brushes his lips with his fingers. “See, that’s what I mean. You don’t take what happened to you very seriously. You could’ve been killed, Becks.”

  I sarcastically bite, “That’s the New River Gorge talking.”

  He nods, as if he realizes something. “Maybe you should have to pick this time.”

  I’m confused. “Pick what?”

  His brown eyes flash before he acidly states, “Shortstop or me.”

  My mouth falls open in disbelief. “You’re actually giving me a fucking ultimatum about softball?”

  He presses his lips into a line before decisively answering, “Yeah. I am. Sound familiar? So, what’s it going to be, Becks?” He can’t be serious, but with the infuriated expression on his face, I don’t want to call his bluff.

  With a hard glare, wordlessly choosing him, I stomped off and since I didn’t have Finn’s car key, I sat in the back of Ricky’s truck, which led me to getting in trouble for climbing up into the bed. I can’t win.

  One thing is certain since my accident: My Sparks Wilder is acting differently, similar to how I thought he was acting unusual at his dirt bike race a month ago. There are several instances besides him being grouchier. After he dragged me out of Ricky’s truck bed, he sat me on the bench, while he coached. I caught him staring at me on several occasions. He says he always did, but to catch him in the act unnerved me. Finn wasn’t undressing me with his eyes. He was assessing my every twitch, scratch, blink, and breath, along with reviewing whom I even talked to. When Rod came over and sat next to me, quietly telling me about his new evidence of his boss being gay, Finn moved closer to us. The look on his face even from behind his sunglasses and baseball cap was a weird mix of annoyance and suspicion, like maybe I was cooking up a scheme or something.

  Soon after, I overheard Sparks telling Milo and Reed to keep me out of any close-up shots. What the hell? I mean, thank you for giving me a reprieve from being on camera, Finn, but what’s the motivation behind it? I asked him and he irritably mumbled it was for my privacy. Privacy? I thought he gave up on that when he made out with me on his show. The only reasoning I can come up with is it’s for Finn’s privacy, not so much as mine. I don’t understand how kissing me on camera is less intrusive than me warming a bench.

  He’s not only watched me like a hawk at the field, but even at home. After our argument at practice, we didn’t say much to each other. That night, I worked on Morgan’s shower and Facebook messaging Val at my laptop on the couch, and from the kitchen table, where he was supposed to be working on his own laptop typing up something for his segment, he was watching me instead. I asked what he was thinking about and he just shrugged and went back to typing.

  Then, there’s the birth control issue. I am incomprehensibly baffled. At Easter, we had arguments about it, accompanied by his demand that I go on the Pill. That was one of the reasons I took a break from him. So, why is he suddenly shunning using anything at all? I know he likes to feel me during sex, but there are consequences to his actions, a trade-off, I guess you could call it. Suddenly from out of nowhere, he doesn’t seem to care for the time being. Why? I’ve offered him the chances to protect himself, but he ignored me each time. It’s almost like he’s on a risk-all quest to have better sex. Is that it? Is the gamble worth it? He claims he’s not in a stupor and knows what he’s doing, but does he really? I truly think Sparks believes he’s invincible since he did indeed dodge a bullet last time. I just hope he does know he’s playing with fire and we both could get badly burned.

  Even though I was ticked off at him for issuing me a shitty ultimatum regarding a damn softball position that I was near positive he wouldn’t really uphold, Finn stayed with me that night and into the week. Since practice wasn’t on our minds Monday morning, our argument quickly fell to the wayside, which led us to make love three more times since our tryst on the couch Sunday morning, though, he’s not the only one to blame. He asserts he can’t get enough of me, but this week, it’s been the other way around. I’ve been surpassing him in the sense that I can’t get enough, despite the pain I have. Sometimes it’s worse than other times, yet I can’t stay away from him. And he can’t seem to stop long enough to put on a condom. It’s like we’re making up for lost time, even if it was only three weeks, not three years.

  Case in point: Monday night, I jumped him as he came in the door from work, still looking every bit the part of flirty sportscaster. I roughed his hair up and pushed him to the couch, surprising him, but he was all-too happy to oblige my fantasy of being a random Finnatic having my naughty way with him. Now when he wears that green and blue striped-tie on Air, I’ll think about wrapping it around my wrist and using it to yank his lips to mine, having another hot fuck on the couch with him while still in his suit. I even had a condom ready because I was planning my attack, but he left it on the cushion next to us.

  He’s been holding his own, though. On Tuesday, I was making spaghetti and he stealthily came up behind me, putting his hands on my hips, kissing up my neck and panting in my ear. When he whispered, “I give up. I surrender. You win,” that was it. I turned the stove off and he swept me into his arms like how he carried me from the ball field. As we passed the bathroom, I reached out and grabbed onto the doorframe, wanting him to stop so I could get my birth control, but he pried my fingers off it and kept going. I don’t understand him. Our dinner was mushy, but it was definitely worth it.

  His relentless concern and hovering includes checking out my bruise every day. He still was undecided by Wednesday if he was going to allow me to practice again Saturday, donning his figurative coach’s hat and his apparent newfound authoritarianism, making him now a tad bit domineering and restrictive when it comes to the slightest risk of me getting hurt again. Why? It was an isolated incident that I’m sure won’t repeat itself. Well, it definitely won’t since I won’t be playing shortstop anymore and Heaven forbid I ever bring up that topic again.

  Finn did warn me after his mom announced the divorce that he might become needy, but it seems to have increased after I was hit, not being about him this time, though. I don’t get it. Even in sleep, Finn now has to be up against me. Through the night, he’s awoken me because of his body heat or from his arm being too heavy on me. My bed is smaller than his so there’s not as much room as there is in his king bed. Wednesday night, this new closeness led to our third time having sex. It was my fault. He wasn’t making a move, but with his arm around me, and his muscles tensing as he caressed my hip or when he reached for my hand fueled the intoxicating feel of his scruff brushing along my skin as he kissed my cheek. When I unthinkingly pushed my body into his, it was as if I had lit his fuse in return. He tried to fight it like he did Saturday, saying we have hindered my healing enough, but when his dick started to persistently dig into my back, I took his hand and put it down the front of my underwear. He was easily mine after that.

  The sweetest change is that since Finn has had to work late most of the week, he’s been calling me right before he goes on the Air just to check in on how I’m doing, and to tell me he loves me. Thursday night on the phone, he asked me before going live if I was going to watch him. I said I would as always. He told me to watch him more closely because he was going to give me a signal and it would mean I love you, Becks. I laughed and thought for sure he’d forget since he has a teleprompter and is on live TV, but as I watched him deliver the scores of the day, he offhandedly, so it seemed, brushed his finger across his bottom lip. I squealed at my own private shout out from Finn Wilder. I waited for him to come home so I could gush about it, but exhausted from shower planning, I fell asleep before he came home and he didn’t wake me up.

  Friday morning, Rod breezily sails into my office. “Hey, benchwarmer. How you feeling?”

  I glance up from the report I started working on for Val. He’s been asking the same morning question every day since the accident. “I’m okay,” I use my patent answer, but add, “Still stiff in places.”

&nbs
p; “Now you have something in common with Wilder.”

  “Ha ha.” Though, this week he’s not far off from the truth.

  After work, I go straight to the church with Val to decorate for Morgan’s shower. Tonya will arrive in the morning and is in charge of bringing snacks, much to Rod’s annoying merriment. He made some jokes about her that had me smacking him upside the head in Morgan’s absence. For the shower, he volunteered his Twister game, but I told him we weren’t playing that game at a bridal shower, especially when the bride-to-be is pregnant. He argued Twister is “a universal game that speaks to fucking everyone, fucking everywhere.” I’ve never seen that testimonial printed on any game box.

  Having heard Morgan, Val, and I discussing the decorating plans, Rod volunteered to come to the church and help us set up tables and chairs. Before I could thank him for his generosity, he asked if I thought Christian girls were easier than Jewish girls because he was having no luck at the synagogues. Another head smack he earned.

  When I mentioned to Finn about Rod helping us, he said he’d also be there to help since he was off for the night. I never expected him to offer help for anything related to a wedding, but I didn’t question him.

  “Okay, Val. Where do you want me to put this mammoth box of tampons?” Rod asks, holding up a large, blue box. Did he really have to go home first to change into an N*SYNC T-shirt? Oh, Rod…

  Val spins around, clearly shocked by his question. “What?” When she sees what’s in his hand, she sighs and rolls her eyes. “Rod, dear heart, sweet pea, that’s a box of mints.”

  He turns the box around and smirks at it. “Oh, yeah. I see that now. Why would tampons be here when Morticia’s Aunt Flow went AWOL months ago?” He laughs and asks, “Don’t you need them, Hadders?”

  I indignantly steal the box from him with a scowl, and I get started assembling the mint favors while Val goes to the kitchen for scissors. “Not at the moment, but thanks so much for asking.”

  “Do you ever make Wilder buy those things?”

  “No.”

  He snaps his fingers as he giggles, and then smacking my arm, he squeals, “His next dare! That would be a riot! Would he do it?”

  “Probably. He doesn’t let any dare beat him.” Almost. He said he triumphed over two of my dares. He did prove his devotion to me by getting a tattoo with my name on it, and then he ran the Rocky Steps as I had dared him, but he didn’t even mention my Easter dare to get me pregnant. I suppose he didn’t fail it since he technically didn’t take it on. On the other hand, he did admit that he lost the dare on the sofa.

  “That would be so funny to watch Wilder go into a store and down the rag aisle to shop for plugs!”

  Val returns, and catching the last of Rod’s comment, sourly grimaces as she grabs a handful of mints to start her own set. I grab the scissors and cut the ribbon before tying it around the tulle, completing my first favor.

  Rod says, “By the way, you never gave me a proper thank you for driving your car home from the field. My office does have a lock on the door, if you know what I mean.”

  Sighing, Val dubiously shakes her head at his remark and I ask him, “What are you talking about? Ricky took my car home.”

  “Um, no. Officer Hunkalicious did not have the fabulous pleasure of driving that gem.”

  My face crumples in confusion. “Finn never told me that. I assumed it was Ricky who did.”

  “What’s the big deal? We were there anyway. He probably couldn’t get Ricky to do it, so he texted Mortuary and asked us to help him out instead.”

  His revelation floors me and I look up from my favor in progress.

  “You were at the hospital? Why don’t I know about that until now? It’s been a week!”

  He shrugs. “What’s the big deal? But, yeah. Mortuary told your man we were there. He came out to the waiting room and told us you were okay so far. Mortuary and I both said we’d go get your car, so he gave us his key. Oh, I still have it. Here.”

  As he fishes into his pocket, I grumble, “I wish I would’ve known you guys were at the hospital.”

  He hands me the key and then leans his arm on the wall next to the window, crossing an ankle over the other. “Hadders, I about killed you. I felt horrible. The whole team was there.”

  Floored again.

  I bite back tears of gratitude as I tie another little bag of mints. “You did not ‘about’ kill me. Everyone was there?”

  Val nods. “Yes, babe. Finn told us that the doctor thought you were okay and he would call if there was anything different to tell. He was on top of it.”

  Rod loudly whispers, “And then probably on top of you later.”

  Val sighs. “Gregory.”

  Laughing, he shakes his head and peers out the window again. “Wow. I absolutely cannot contain my mouth.”

  “In a church!” I add like a broken record.

  “I know, but unlike your gilded stud, I’m going to Hell. I shouldn’t even be allowed in here. Hold on. I’m Jewish, is that even allowed? Will I get kicked out?”

  I groan. “Not for being Jewish, Rod. Just for being you.” Val elbows me and giggles.

  Rod lightly shoves my shoulder. “Whatever, Hadders.” He walks over to the pile of decorations yet to be hung, shuffling through them. “What’s this crap?”

  Val says, “Decorations, Rod.”

  “Yeah, but they look normal. I was thinking for sure she’d have some sort of steampunk, nightmare thing going on or is she saving that for the Main Event?”

  Val laughs. “Rod, I think you’re thinking of your own wedding someday.”

  He says, “Yeah, right, like I’d let my woman do any of that.”

  I look up and giggle, and knowing what I’m laughing about, he says, “Yes, woman, Hadders, so shut it!”

  I say to Rod, “I can’t believe you didn’t force Morgan to drive my car since you always make fun of it. You said, and I quote, ‘A mime on fire wouldn’t even pretend to drive it in exchange for a bucket of water.’ So, that was rather daring of you.”

  He scowls. “Hadders, if you’re going to quote me, get it right. I said, ‘…in exchange for a hose job.’”

  I cock my head and frown at him. “I apologize for the misquote.”

  He indifferently shrugs, watching Val tie a ribbon. “I forgive you…this time.”

  Bored with Val’s task, Rod goes to the window and checks out the parking lot. No cemetery to entertain him, unfortunately. “Oh, and I will tell you, Mortuary and I took it for a joyride.”

  “What?”

  “Well, it was more like a killjoyride. She forced me at mace point to drive her to Target. The hag wouldn’t even let me stay in the car by myself, and of course, she made me push the buggy as she dumped the entire store into it. I told three old people that she and I were absolutely not together because I didn’t even want anyone imagining us having—”

  “Rod.” I stop him with a look and then ask, “So, Finn texted Morgan to help? I didn’t know he had her phone number.”

  “Yep. While you were getting your CunT scan.”

  “Gregory!” Flustered, Val knocks over the box of mints, spilling them onto the table.

  Rod says over his shoulder to Val with regret evident in his voice, “I’m sorry, Val. I forgot there was an actual lady here. Speaking of non-ladies, where is Morgasm?”

  I gape at him before I hiss, “We’re in a church!” Reaching over, I smack his arm and he dramatically winces while holding his bicep. “She’s working late to get herself caught up before her honeymoon.”

  Val says, “I’ll be back. Nature calls.” Leaving the table, she pats Rod’s cheek and teasingly rolls her eyes. In return, he gives her an ungainly smile, which makes me grin at his awkwardness.

  When she’s out of the room, he pushes off the wall and goes to the other side of the table. “Where’s Morticia’s sister, Ophelia?”

  Sighing, I narrow my eyes at him, knowing he can’t say Tonya’s name without making fun of it. “She�
�ll be here tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh. Thanks for the warning. I hope she uses a foghorn.” I scrunch up my face at that remark as he picks up a favor and frowns. “Are these mints the grand prize you get for coming to this shindig?”

  “Well,” I say, searching for a bag in our chaos. I find the one I’m looking for and open it to show him. “We also have these flip flop bottle openers, since it’s a beach wedding.”

  He peers into the bag. “Sweet! Score me one.”

  I close the bag and return to the mints. “Rod, we only have so many.”

  “I don’t deserve one for helping?”

  I scoff, “You deserve something alright.”

  “And are you going to give it to me?” He noisily licks his lips in a gross display, making me laugh and hating myself that I did.

  Still laughing, I try to be serious when I remind him, “We’re in a church!”

  “Believe me. God knows I’m screwy.”

  “As does the rest of Richmond.”

  He grabs the edge of the table and suddenly rattles it. “Come on, Hadders. We could totally get this table rocking.”

  Playing along, I say, “Absolutely.”

  “You know you want my body.”

  I glance up at him. “Yes, I’m so hot for you,” I say in a monotone.

  “I knew it!” He grins and picks up the pinking shears, and begins cutting scraps of paper with them. I watch him in odd interest and stupefaction. Rod definitely marches to his own tone-deaf orchestra.

  From behind, arms gently wrap around me, scaring me and I jump. “Hey, baby,” Sparks’ voice is low in my ear. My heart begins to race from being startled and from the smell of his scent mixed with his cologne. I hug his arms tighter to me and my stomach throbs in protest, but his touch is worth the momentary discomfort.

  “Hey, sweetie,” I giggle, calling him the name I did at the field last week when teasing him, loving the sound of it. With his mouth against my ear, I feel his smile and hear his purr. His goatee brushes me as he moves to kiss the side of my head.

  Rod briefly looks at us as he continues his peculiar cutting mission. “Ugh. People in love suck. We’re in a holy place, Wilder. Keep it clean.” Finn would never say anything worse in a church than Rod did 15 minutes ago.