A picture came through of a small gray cat, more fur than actual cat, sleeping in a pile of socks, with #CurrentView typed below.
Me: Cute.
Wilder: If you’re a good boy, maybe I’ll introduce you to him on Saturday.
As much as I wanted that, the likelihood of that happening, on a scale of zero to ten, was negative two. Once Wilder found out that I was Jax, this thing we had going would be over. But at least he’d know why I’d done what I had nine years ago. And his hurt would be replaced by hate. Anger was easier to manage. After a while, the flame died out.
Me: That’s if I’m not a serial killer?
Wilder: Duh.
I shook my head and huffed out another laugh.
Me: See you at six tomorrow.
Wilder: Weird.
Me: I know.
Wilder: How will I know it’s you?
Me: I’ll say hi.
Wilder: Six…
Wilder: Drive safe.
Me: I will.
When I glanced up from my phone, I caught Ethan staring at me. His hand hovered over the bait box, like he was about to reach in, but something grabbed his attention. Apparently that something was me.
“Taking a break?” he asked, reaching in, and grabbing a worm.
I stood, wiping the grass off the back of my shorts and pointed up at the sky. “It’s too hot. And I’m not big on fishing if you want the truth.”
Ethan flicked his gaze to my brother for a brief second. “But Jason is?”
I nodded as I approached him, his scent catching me off guard. He smelled like sunscreen and men’s soap mixed with sweat. I inhaled deeper before I spoke. “Yeah. He used to fish all the time with my dad.”
“You never did?”
“My father and I weren’t as close,” I admitted, and it surprised me. I didn’t usually talk to people about my life. Well, besides Wild.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not. It’s not much of a secret. Jay was my dad’s basketball prodigy. I just played because I enjoyed it, not because I was that good at it.”
“I always thought you were great,” he said.
His comment caught me off guard.
“You did?”
“Yeah. I used to go to your games.”
“When?” I pressed, liking how he blushed all the way to the tips of his ears.
“Junior High.” His laugh was husky. “You were a senior. Me and my friends, we went to every home game. I remember Jason used to sit in the front row and scream at the refs with your dad.”
I could see the memory as if it was played out on a screen before me. “That feels like another lifetime.”
“You might’ve been my first crush,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the river like he hadn’t just come out to me in the flirtiest, most easygoing way possible. His smile was shy when his eyes met mine. “Thanks… for sticking up for me the other day. Those guys you work with…”
“Are assholes,” I said. “They shouldn’t say shit like that.”
“I’ve got thick skin.” He shrugged, and I admired his self-assurance. Nodding toward the river, he changed the subject. “Want to try again? It’s not as hot now that the breeze has kicked up some.”
I made sure I didn’t stare at his chest, or his mouth, or the trickle of sweat dripping down his throat. I did what I did best. I nodded, repressing any sign of desire, any hope that I could end up with someone like Ethan, or Wild, or the thought that I might actually have a chance one day at something good.
“You sure you don’t want to grab something to eat?” Jim asked as we pulled into the hotel parking lot.
“I need to catch some sleep.”
“Thanks for driving yesterday. And today.” He laughed as I switched off the ignition.
It was four-thirty and I still had to shower and drive thirty minutes into Ansley Park. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk. This day had been the longest fucking day of my life. My stomach, empty, twisted in knots. I couldn’t even think about eating anything.
“Not a problem,” I said and opened the truck door.
The hotel lobby was busy as we walked in. Jim smiled and waved at a girl behind the counter.
“She’s cute,” he whispered, hitting the elevator button. “You should ask her to have dinner with you.”
“Doubtful…” I hesitated. “But I might take the truck to get some food later, if that’s alright?”
“Sure thing, kid.”
We rode the elevator together to the third floor. When the doors opened, we stepped out. “If you do go out, don’t be too late, we have to meet with the owners by eight-thirty tomorrow.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“See you in the morning,” he said, and headed down the hall.
Once I was in my room, I exhaled the tension I’d been holding in all day. I stripped out of my jeans and sweaty t-shirt and took the longest shower I could with the time I had. I shaved my face, brushed my teeth, trying the entire time to keep my mind numb. I went through the motions like it was any other day. The only difference was I actually tried to do something with my blond mop of hair. I’d purchased some type of styling stuff last night from the small convenience store across the street. I ran a little through the wet strands, and let it air dry like the instructions had suggested. I pulled on the nicest pair of jeans I’d packed and a fitted, light blue t-shirt. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and began to second-guess myself. What the hell do you wear to meet the guy you’d been in love with for the past nine years, and had lied to for the past month? I didn’t get a chance to dwell on it because the alarm on my phone went off.
“Shit. I gotta get out of here.”
I slipped on my watch, pulled on my ratty Converse, and grabbed my wallet, keys, and phone from the night table. I ignored the rush of fear in my pulse. I didn’t think about how this all could blow up in my face. How I might destroy Wild all over again. I didn’t allow my mind to travel beyond each individual second that ticked by. Until I was in the truck. Until I was on the interstate. Until I was parked outside the Cup and Quill.
Until I saw him.
Wild walked down the crowded sidewalk toward my truck, preoccupied by the city buzzing around him. His dark hair longer on top, the soft curls fell lazy over his forehead. He was taller than I remembered, in black skinny jeans with holes in the knees. His white t-shirt, hung off wide shoulders, slightly tucked in the front under his belt. His skin pale like cream, against dark brown eyes framed by heavy black lashes and eyeliner. The soft jaw line I used to kiss was angled and sharp. His fingers delicate as he pulled a phone from his back pocket. These past nine years had transformed him into something beyond what I’d imagined, or what a picture could have prepared me for. He was exactly as I remembered and everything I’d never know, but God I fucking wanted to. All those seconds that I’d managed to get through to get to this point, the years, the regret, the shame, added up to this one time stamp.
Five fifty-eight.
Wilder: I’m here.
WILDER