Chapter 14 Presley
PRESLEY
I’m in Jace Hayes’s truck.
Holy shit…
The teen girl inside me squeals. A pure, unadulterated sound of absolute joy.
She’s also dancing. And not elegantly. No, ma’am.
She’s flailing about in a way that might leave some people to wonder if she’s having an episode.
A cross between Elaine in that old episode of Seinfeld and Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. Sheer chaos at best.
“Make sure you buckle up,” Jace says, his shit-eating grin growing by the second as he climbs behind the steering wheel.
“Why? We in for a wild ride?”
“Never know.” He winks, setting off the butterflies in my tummy.
Seriously, high school Presley is so fucking jealous of me right now. Grown-up Presley has to keep her wits about her though. She doesn’t get to act like a seventeen-year-old girl in the cute boy’s truck. Nope. Grown-up Presley needs to remember who she is—who he is—and what is waiting at home.
Responsibility.
Jace slips the truck into gear, easing up off the brake and letting it roll forward. He’d backed this bad boy into the space—not that there is anyone else left in this parking lot now to maneuver around—making our exit simple. And too quick.
I wasn’t kidding when I said it was an easy walk over here. Just a pop around the corner. Meaning this is going to be a very short ride.
“I’m sorry.”
Errr…what?!
My head whips toward Jace, his silhouette highlighted in the glow of the dashboard. I don’t think I heard him properly.
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, just as calm and sincere as the first time.
“For what?”
“Whatever I did to make you avoid me this week. I…I didn’t mean to upset you. Or overstep. Or…whatever it is I did.”
Oh, goodness. He thinks he did something.
My heart clenches, those butterflies flapping their wings again. There’s no fighting the smile that starts to take over.
“I threw up on you.”
“So?”
“So? So?!” He has to be kidding. “I threw up on you. Not just around you—on you. Talk about mortifying.”
Jace shrugs. “Not the first vomit shower I’ve experienced. Although it might have been the most polite. Dare I even say sexiest?”
I scoff laugh. “There was nothing sexy about it.”
“Significantly sexier than when Duckman did it after the Georgia/Alabama game junior year of college.”
Okay, I’ll give him that. No idea who Duckman is, but I can form a picture in my head and it’s not pretty.
“Is that the only reason?” he continues.
“Err…well…” I stumble. It is. Only, it’s not.
My mortification is directly connected to my still very mixed feelings about him. And what I thought was his confirmed dislike of me. Although his actions this last week-ish have made me start to question that.
“Because, I am sorry.”
“Jace, you don’t have—”
“I do.” He cuts me off, looking at me as he turns onto my street. “I just don’t know where to start.”
Taking his foot off the accelerator, Jace lets the truck crawl to a stop, then slips it into park.
He shifts, pulling a leg up onto the bench seat so he can face me.
The dashboard’s glow is now dancing across his face, highlighting his somber expression.
The dim light is all I need to see all the emotion in his brown eyes, chipping away at my walls.
“Because I am sorry, Presley. Deeply sorry. For everything.” His voice cracks, so he takes a moment, swallowing hard.
“Not being more welcoming when you moved to town. For being an all-around jackass in general. For the cheating rumor—not only letting it get started, but for not stopping it. The prom rumor. For refusing to dance with you at prom, leaving you all high and dry, and even more of a target for taunts. For not being welcoming a second time. And criticizing your parenting skills. It’s obvious that you’re a great mom. While I’m just a jackass.”
“You said that already.”
“It bears repeating. I could have stopped all those rumors. Told people to shut it, or even just set the record straight. But I didn’t. My stupid teenage self was too caught up in how things weren’t like they were ‘supposed to be,’ so I acted out. It was wrong. My mama raised me better. I promise.”
I chuckle softly, my insides melting. Blinking, I try to fight back the emotion that is starting to move up my throat.
Jace’s apology isn’t anything grand—his jumble of words falling out of him like dice out of the Yahtzee cup—but holy hell, is it sincere.
More so than any other apology I’ve ever been on the receiving end of.
“I’ve met Miss Belle, so I don’t doubt that.” I sigh, reaching over and placing my hand on his knee. He doesn’t flinch or tense up, but I can hear his breath stop for a second in the silence. “Apology accepted.”
Jace heaves out a hard breath that shakes the bench seat. Like he was worried I might not actually forgive him. How could I not after that?
“And while we’re on the subject,” I continue, “let me apologize for holding on to my grudge for so long. It wasn’t fair to you.”
“Ha!” Jace scoffs, placing his hand on top of mine. It’s warm, comforting, making me feel everything even more intensely. “I was giving you plenty of ammunition. And really, if that’s the worst thing you’ve ever done…”
I purse my lips to the side, pretending to think. “It might be second to lying to my mama about breaking her favorite cookie jar when I was seven.”
Jace throws his head back, a sharp bark of laughter erupting from him. One that activates the pinball machine inside my chest, the little metal balls ricocheting off each organ at light speed.
“Give me the chance to show you the real me? The one that is only half a jackass instead of a whole one?”
Well, now there’s a proposition if I ever heard one.
Still, there’s no resisting that.
“Okay.”
The smile that takes over Jace outshines the dash.
Hell, it probably has enough power to light up this whole street.
It certainly sends a zing down my spine.
Because I have good money that the real Jace is the one I saw this past weekend.
That guy was zero-part jackass. He was sweet, patient, understanding, and not afraid of vomit or kid shows.
All qualities that scare the shit out of me. It would be way too easy to fall for a man like that.
“Okay then.” He squeezes my hand, then lets go, turning back to face front and putting us in drive again.
The mood shifts right along with the truck, any kind of weird tension that had been lingering between us dissipating. Opening us up to something new. Something relaxed. Something that makes me want to open myself up the same way he did to me.
To let him into my world.
“Can…can I confess something?” I ask tentatively.
“Go for it.”
We slowly hug the bend in the road and now we’re almost home. My pulse thumps through my veins, nerves rising in me. It’s now or never to put this out there.
“I really wanted you to ask me to prom. Despite all the other stuff back then, I had a really massive crush on you, and would daydream about you changing your mind and making this whole public scene about asking me out.”
“And then that’s what I did with Ashley.”
I nod, pressing my lips together. The memory doesn’t sting now like it used to—time healing that wound a bit. But only a bit. There’s still some stinging; I am only human.
“Teenage Presley would be very jealous of me right now, getting to climb up in your truck.”
Jace lets out a single wry chuckle, turning into my drive. I hate that we’re here, disappointment filling me as we come to a stop. I don’t want this to end.
“Can I confess something?” he asks, turning to face me again.
“Of course.”
“I really wanted to ask you to prom.”
Wait…what?!
My heart leaps out of my chest, getting stuck in my throat, strangling any chance I have at responding.
Did he just…no. I misheard him. There’s no way—except, that look is back in his eyes.
Those brown irises that are somehow so clear through the darkness.
Telling me that he’s as sincere about that as he was about his apology.
I really wanted to ask you to prom…
Holy shit.
“I never told anyone. Not even Owen. None of my brothers or Willa. No one,” he continues when I don’t say anything.
“Owen had kinda figured out that I had a crush on you, and he gave me plenty of shit about it, but never in front of anyone. I was trying to figure out a way to somehow ask, or make it seem like we were being forced to go together or something when the rumor started. By that point I was so embarrassed because I felt…”
“Seen?” I offer.
“Yeah. Someone had figured out my secret, and after having lost Super STAR student to you, I needed to save face.”
I nod, not quite sure what to do with all this information. I’m overwhelmed by the idea that teenage Jace felt the same way. That the boy I used to daydream about was across town, daydreaming about me. If that doesn’t sound like a song by my favorite pop star, Genevieve, I don’t know what does.
In fact, what would Genevieve do? She sure as hell wouldn’t just sit here thinking about it. No. She’d act.
So I do.
Reaching forward, I grab hold of Jace’s shirt, tugging him closer to me, and plant one on him. There’s no time for thinking now, my lips pressed to his, tasting the remnants of his dinner mixed with beer. Mixed with him.
Holy shit, I’m kissing Jace Hayes.
And he’s not kissing me back.
Jace freezes, his whole body going tense, and the longer I keep my mouth on his, the more awkward this feels. Not at all the hot rom-com moment I was expecting. Shit.
I need to let go. Clearly this was a very, very bad idea. I read the moment wrong. He is my boss—at least indirectly. We absolutely have to work together. And here I am, basically sexually harassing him.
Shit.