“You aren’t going to believe me.”
I was not in the mood. “Try me.”
She took a deep breath and held it. “I think I have a crush on Ryan.” Her words were giddy. “Who’d have ever thought? I’ve known him for like…what it’s been…my whole life. But, Emma. You should have seen him Friday. He was so totally awesome. He wouldn’t take me home even though I said it was OK.” She slugged me in the shoulder. “Oh my God, I still can’t believe we drank that beer.” She shook her hands in front of her trying to get back on subject. “Anyway, I was goofy…I mean really goofy. He took me to Starbucks and we ordered a drink and we just sat and listened to music and talked. He knew I had to be home by midnight and around 11:30, we took off in his truck. I think he got a text from you.”
My expression soured as I recalled the text.
“But Em…” she looked at me dead in the eyes. “Do you think??” Her words stopped, finally, and I didn’t know what to think. Ali was beautiful but she was fifteen like me. Ryan had never…. My thoughts stopped. I couldn’t go there, not right now.
“I don’t know. I’ll see if he says anything.” I wanted the conversation to end and fortunately we’d entered the school.
Third hour was here before I was ready and I hustled up the stairs hoping to beat Zach to class. I sat in my regular seat and opened my Algebra book. I started copying today’s word problem from the smart board. As people made their way in, I forced myself not to look up. The problem was easy but I took my time writing it out slowly and neatly re-tracing numbers I’d already written. Unaware of who had come in, I lifted my head when the bell sounded. Mr. Bowman was not in class yet.
“Hey, Runt.” Grant was behind me. When I turned to say hi, I realized Zach was sitting in his normal seat to my left with his head down. “Want a beer?” Grant chuckled under his breath.
I stared angrily at him. “You’re funny.”
“I heard you were funny. I’d like to see you drunk.”
I swear a low growl came from Zach. I casually glanced in his direction and his jaw was set tight as he fingered his pencil.
“Poor Ryan, straddled with two drunk chicks. What I wouldn’t give?” Grant seemed amused with himself.
“Ryan is a gentleman, Grant. He took great care of us.”
“I know. I’m only kidding. You were lucky. I’m sure one of the frat boys would have loved to nail ya.”
“Grant, you’re such a douche. Austin would never hurt me and you know that more than I do.”
“Emma, the other four guys there didn’t give two shits about you.” Grant’s tone became serious and I noted that he called me by name. “Guys don’t get girls drunk just so they can laugh a little.” He took a deep breath and shook his head from side to side. Zach’s pencil hit the floor and as he picked it up—his unsympathetic eyes met mine for half a second.
“We weren’t even that drunk.” I whispered.
Zach cleared his throat purposefully, in a lame attempt to negate my words.
“It doesn’t matter, Em.” Grant seemed angry. “What if they put something in your drink? What if you wake up and don’t know where you are and… Besides, we both know I’m going to be your first anyway and…”
“Meiers!” Zach barked, and Grant giggled.
My head snapped toward Zach. Blood simmered through my own veins, and I wanted to scream. What are you upset about? You didn’t want me! What difference did it make? I slammed my book shut, squeezed past the front of Zach’s desk and ran out of class.
Before I could breathe, I was down the stairs and sitting behind the stairs of the bottom stairwell letting my irritation subside. With my legs drawn to my chest, I rested my forehead on my knees. I heard a noise. Zach was there.
“You OK?” he asked flatly.
“Fine.” Did I friggin look fine?
“No you’re not.”
“Fine.” I shrugged.
He exhaled. “Are you angry with me or Meiers?”
“Both,” I pouted.
He chuckled. “That poor boy.”
I narrowed my eyes as anger crept into me again. “Poor boy? What’s that supposed to mean?”
He relaxed with his back against the wall and stuck out his lower lip. “It’s clear he’s in love with you and you don’t even see it.”
My mouth hung open at his ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
He smiled. “Clean your ears, Em. He went nuts when he thought about those men…” he took a breath. “…touching you.” His words were broken. “He couldn’t take it. He loves you.”
Rage brought me to my feet. “He loves me…like a sis-ter! But even if it was more…” I contemplated my words. “I have to believe if I asked him to touch me—he wouldn’t hesitate.”
My heart thudded hard against my chest. Zach’s adam’s apple jetted out as he swallowed hard and tried to compose himself. Suddenly, he lunged at me grabbing my wrist and pulling me down the hall.
“What are you doing?” I hissed under my breath.
“You can make a scene if you want or you can come peacefully. But you’re coming regardless.”
His pace was too fast for me to plant my feet and I knew he’d pick me up if I fought. Within a minute, we were at the Jeep and he heaved me through his door. He didn’t speak and there was a small piece of me that was afraid. The Jeep screeched to a stop in front of a house. The house was a three-story home built into the side of a mountain. His house?
“Where are we?”
He was suddenly at my door, opening it and taking my hand again, with not as much force. We walked past a trail of wildflowers as he fumbled with the key. It was his house.
“What are we doing?”
The warning alarm beeped as he opened the door then punched in numbers shutting off the sound. He tossed the keys on a table, and with me still in tow, stomped up the stairs. I struggled to keep up with him. We passed two doors before he opened one and went in. Obviously his bedroom. This was the first time I’d been in his house—let alone his room. Trophy’s. Posters. Pictures. A blown-up picture of the lit-up Golden Gate covered half of a wall. I smiled. On his desk sat a picture of me on the beach this summer. Books. Magazines. CDs. The room was tidy for the most part. It felt right here. I turned to him.
His shirt was off and in a pile at his feet. His bare chest was tanned and perfect. I gave him an awkward smile. Then he began working on the first button on his jeans, his belt already unfastened. My heart fluttered—he was scaring me again. He took a measured step toward me, and I instinctively back stepped.
“What are you doing?” My voice quivered.
“I’m gonna have sex with you.” His expression was indifferent.
My eyes bulged. “What?”
He pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”
EIGHTEEN
ZACH
“No!” she shrieked and I hated the panic in her eyes.
“Go ahead. Lie down.” There was no meanness in my words—they were simply emotionless.
“Stop!” She folded her arms across her chest. Guess she was going with the pouting.
Typically, her pouting would work, but if sex is what she wanted, sex is what she was going to get. She attempted to walk around me.
When I grabbed her arm, I was careful not to use force. “Isn’t this what you want?” I asked mockingly. I reached for the top button on her shirt. She swatted my hand away. “What’s wrong? You want me right?” I mimicked.
“You’re being a jerk.”
Inside, I flinched at her words. She was right. Surely, she knew I wouldn’t force this.
“You want to be touched. You said so yourself. Even Grant would have touched you—but I didn’t. Wasn’t that your point?” At that moment, I lifted her easily in the air and placed her on my bed like a doll, positioning myself beside her. Before giving her the opportunity to speak, I smashed my mouth to hers. The powerful kiss gave way to a whimper resonating from her throat. Instinctively, I reigned in the aggressio
n and opted for tenderness by sliding my hand under her shirt making contact with her stomach. Her skin quivered. I was back to believing she hadn’t done this before.
“Stop!” She ordered with the fierceness of a rolly polly insect.
If that small touch unsettled her what I was about to do was going to rock her world even more if she was indeed what I thought her to be. Her blue eyes held questions, concerns and I held on to that look as my palm wrapped her knee and slowly inched up her thigh. Immediately, the blues I was falling for filled with fear.
“Zach, please stop.” Her voice shook.
I gently removed my hand and buried myself next to her. Besides disappointing myself, I confirmed what I suspected. She had to be a virgin. Several long minutes passed in silence. She sniffed and I feared her tears.
We lay there in silence for a few more moments. I would have given anything to know what was going through her mind.
“Why do you want this so bad?” I finally asked.
“What exactly do you mean by ‘this’?”
I propped myself up on my elbow and faced her. “Sex.”
Her face flushed. “I don’t want sex.” She spoke firmly. “I just want you.”
“You have me.” I lifted her chin so I could see the truth in her eyes. “Why don’t you get that?”
Her eyes flickered away.
“Emma, have you ever—been with anyone?”
“I’ve dated.”
I kissed her forehead. “You know what I’m asking.”
Baam! Question answered the moment she looked down. When her tiny little hand rested against my chest, it nearly robbed me of breath.
Finally, she shook her head no. I clutched her into my chest and her cheek rested against my skin. When the softness of her lips brushed over my chest muscle, I vowed at that moment to never hurt this girl, I knew I had to be honest about some things.
“Zach…” her breath skimmed over my skin and an unspoken invitation lingered.
A low groan came from my throat as I rotated her away from me. “I would be honored to be with you, Emma. But not like this or like Friday. Why do you want to rush it?”
“You rushed it with Estelle.”
“Is that why you want to do it?”
“You touched her—everywhere—and you won’t even touch me.” Her voice cracked.
I tucked her head into my chest again and pressed my lips into her hair. “Don’t you see, that meant nothing. That was just a quick…” I stopped myself watching my word choice. “It was sex or a quick ‘scrog’ as you would say.” I paused. “I didn’t love her.” The words came out before I could think. Her eyes darted up to mine.
“Zachary?”
We heard the soprano voice and within two drawn out seconds, we both flipped up and off the bed.
NINETEEN
Emma
A tall, stunning redhead in a pale green dress suit stood in the doorway. I was certain my face matched her hair.
“Mom. Can you please give us a sec?” He immediately buttoned his jeans.
“Certainly.” Our eyes locked for a moment and she smiled then pulled the door shut behind her.
“Oh my God! Your MOM!” I quietly mouthed the words.
He chuckled, which infuriated me more. “Would you stop?” He snickered.
I paced the floor adjusting my skirt then examined my face in the mirror by his door. My hair was tangled. Smoothing it, I eyed the window for an easy escape.
“Don’t do it,” he laughed donning his now wrinkled shirt and running his fingers through his shiny hair. He looked as good as new as he sat on the bed and pulled me next to him.
“We have nothing to be ashamed of.” He brushed a kiss over my lips.
“She doesn’t know that. All she knows is we were on the bed, shirt off, pants unbuttoned, my skirt hiked,” I groaned.
His aggravating smile was still there. “We’re going to hold our heads high, walk down the stairs together and go back to school.” He stood and offered his hand to me. I squeezed it tightly and he opened the door.
He took the stairs slowly hauling me behind. My heart pounded like never before. What was I going to say? ‘Hello Mrs. Owens, I am Emma, the girl who was on the bed with your son, half-naked, nice to meet you.’
His mom sat in a chair in the living room with a book in her lap. I doubted if she was reading. She raised her head.
“Zach…and Emma, I presume.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There was a frog in my throat, but I smiled when she said my name.
“I am very sorry for interrupting. I thought Zachary was sick or something. You are very little and I didn’t see you behind him.” Her words were kind and truthful.
“Mom.” He rubbed my hand. “You didn’t interrupt anything. I promised Em I would explain that in front of you. I know it didn’t look appropriate up there but nothing happened, at all.”
She sighed. Zach resembled her in many ways. Her eyes were soft and met mine.
“It’s nice to meet you, Emma. We’ve heard very good things about you and your family. Your brother is a wonderful football player.”
Zach winked at me.
“Thank you. It is a pleasure meeting you too.”
“Zach says you’re a sophomore. Have you grown up in Ashland?”
Sophomore? I was sure I flinched at the word but not enough for her to notice. “I was born in Portland. Lived there for a few years before my dad became partner in a firm here. Been here every since.”
“Mom. We need to get back to school.”
“Yes. You do. And we will address that this evening.” She forewarned.
He kissed her cheek.
“It was nice meeting you,” I said.
“Please come over again. Maybe after school some day.” She smiled. “Zachary, don’t forget your meeting tonight.”
I beat Zach to the Jeep, shut the door behind me and turned cockeyed in my seat shooting daggers at him.
“What?” he had the nerve to ask.
“What? Are you kidding me? You told your mother I was a sophomore.”
He frowned. “Buckle up.”
I buckled but stayed cockeyed. “Why…why…”
He drove in the opposite direction of the school.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“One question at a time, please.” He seemed amused.
“You’re embarrassed of me, aren’t you? You’re embarrassed that I’m a freshman.” My feelings were hurt.
He hit the brakes and my body jerked forward. His finger jetted in front of my face and he scowled. “Don’t ever say that again. I am not embarrassed of you. You being a freshman doesn’t bother me a bit.” A horn honked behind us and he glanced in his rear view mirror, waved and started moving again.
“Then why?” I asked more calmly. He was driving out of Ashland, but I knew he wouldn’t miss football practice and I had a state qualifier meet in two days so I couldn’t miss cross country. He seemed to be thinking, maybe contemplating his words, as I stared at his profile, which was perfect.
He swerved around almost doing a complete U-turn and darted down a dirt road that led to a small creek. He cut the engine. The water ran low but I could hear the trickle of the creek moving and I closed my eyes and listened. He took my hand in his.
“I need you to listen.”
I nodded.
“My mom,” he paused. “She was a hot-shot defense attorney back in San Francisco—under a lot of stress. She started having some health issues the doctor believed were stress-related.” He paused again. “Then came the talk of moving.” He lay back against the headrest. “I was pissed. I was going to be a senior in the only school I’d ever known. I didn’t want to leave.” He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I didn’t understand why she couldn’t just switch jobs. But my dad applied for his job here. Mom decided to do part-time stress-free work as a paralegal and boom…we’re here.” He intertwined his fingers and wrapped his hands behind his head.
&
nbsp; “I’m sorry.” That was all I had to offer and it didn’t feel like enough. I couldn’t imagine leaving everyone behind.
He untwined his fingers and they fell to his lap. His posture made me nervous. “I started doing stupid shit. Drinking. Smoking weed. Getting in fight after fight. ” He looked at me out the corner of his eye.
I tried desperately not to react.
“I dabbled in other stuff too.”
“Like?”
He hesitated. “Some illegal. Some prescription.”
I suddenly felt sheltered and innocent and naïve. I had no idea what he meant. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” I admitted.
He snickered. “Why would you?” he asked under his breath facing me. “Drugs. I bought stuff from kids who were selling their own meds.” He rubbed his eyes. “I was out of control. I hurt my parents. I hurt myself.” He dwelled on his thoughts for a minute or two. “I was arrested, Em.”
I felt like I’d been kicked hard in the stomach. I remembered one time in fourth grade, falling off the jungle gym when I was a kid and landing smack on my back—unable to breathe. This felt exactly like that without the dust and kids staring at me. His words literally stole the air from my lungs. “Why?” The word barely came out but he heard it.
His brown eyes were bigger than I’d ever seen them and held a fear that scared me. “I was driving under the influence.”
“Influence of what?”
He paused. “Alcohol. And drugs.”
My brow creased. “Did you hurt someone?” My voice broke before the words came out. Don’t cry, I thought trying to fight the emotion. I unbuckled and I don’t know why. I felt scared—not of him—but of losing him. My parents…if they found out—oh God. I felt sick and raked my fingers through my hair. He grabbed my wrists.
“Em?”
“Did you go to jail? Do you still use drugs? Why…are you?” My words were rushed and not coming out right.
He squeezed my arms. “Please. Just listen to me. That’s not who I am. I wanted to tell you before but I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) Page 10
