Chapter Thirteen Emily
Chapter Thirteen
Emily
The day has finally arrived to save my future—and my ass. It’s Wednesday, so we know that Marissa is at the school (Shirley and most of the other staff are thankfully out of town before summer school starts). Jack is prepared to play decoy so that I can sneak into Bart’s office, locate the laptop, and hopefully get into it without a password so I can delete the email. Yeah, not a long shot at all.
And in return, I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Darrell finally called me back, said he’d be happy to squeeze Jack’s project in, then came out to Jack’s place yesterday morning where the two met for over an hour. They walked at least eighteen circles around the house. I could hear Darrell belly laugh all the way from my front porch where I was reading (eavesdropping) when he saw what a horrible job Jack had already done to the inside. Apparently, it would all need to be demolished and redone. I can’t describe just how fun it is to have finally found something Jack isn’t good at.
Now it’s time to get this show on the road and I’m pacing the sidewalk outside the school where I’ve been waiting for Jack to show up for the last ten minutes.
I look up when I hear a familiar loud engine and immediately spot Jack riding in on his motorcycle. It didn’t bother me that he was riding it when he was just some stranger on a bike. But now that I know Jack is the one who owns it, I hate that thing. I hate it so much that I really should look away and properly shun the contraption.
Instead, I watch with unrelenting attention as the man approaches. I catalog each moment like I’m studying for a test on it later. Jack is wearing dark jeans today with his riding jacket and brown boots. It looks less protective than the outfit he was in the other day, which worries me.
The visor on his helmet is pulled down and it’s so dark I can’t see through it to know if he’s seen me yet as he cruises in. Unfortunately, I experience the Helmet Effect all over again because something hot and electric zips through my stomach. How dare you be so basic, body. But then I know he’s seen me because he does the most boy thing I’ve ever witnessed. In the empty parking lot, he opens it up and rips through it. Just before he passes me, his helmet tilts ever so slightly in my direction. I can’t see his eyes behind that visor, but I know our gazes have just met. I feel it.
He passes me, but then in a move that has me sucking in a nervous breath because I’m nearly positive he’s about to dump his bike and end up bloody on the pavement, Jack whips the back end around and effortlessly holds control of the bike as he slows down and cruises back my way, taking the empty spot right in front of me.
As he parks, the sun glints off the motor of his bike, which I know nothing about, but see it has R 1 written in matte black on the side. Next, his brown boot hits the pavement. He cuts the engine, and his head fully turns in my direction, hesitating on me long enough that I can see my own fish-bowled reflection mirrored back at me. My green eyes look wilder than I realized. I blink and adjust from my starstruck stance to my usual confident posture. Jack lowers the kickstand and throws his leg over the seat to stand.
“Do you feel better now that you’ve alerted everyone that there’s a penis on the premises?”
“Good morning to you too, Emily,” he says, his voice muffled through the visor of his helmet, and God help me even that is sexy somehow. I need him to take off this damn helmet.
“You’re late,” I say hastily. “Did you not get my text that said to meet me at school early?”
He breathes a laugh and shucks off his gloves. “Apologies. I didn’t realize early meant with the sunrise. But then I saw your truck leave and figured I better hustle. Hence the bike.”
I grumble, wishing he wouldn’t hustle on that thing.
“You know,” he begins while fiddling with the buckle under his chin before lifting off the helmet. Dammit. It’s not better without the helmet. “If you wanted to make sure we arrived at the same time, you could have come and gotten me to ride with you.” His nice golden-brownish-blondish hair is lightly matted with sweat and is flipping up at the nape. He gives his head a little shake and quickly shoves his hand through his locks to de-stick them from his scalp. It looks darker like this. He’s a brunette when he’s sweaty.
His comment curls up and settles like a purring cat in the back of my mind. We could have ridden together. Because we’re friends. I never even considered that option because this is all so new still.
“Or you could have ridden with me on the bike,” he says when I don’t answer.
“No way. This thing isn’t safe,” I say, tapping the toe of my shoe against the tire. “You shouldn’t even ride it.”
“Is anything in life actually safe?”
“Seatbelts have a pretty good track record.”
He grins while setting his helmet on the seat and then joins me on the sidewalk.
“Hey…” I glance sideways at his face as we walk toward the school. “You’re not wearing your glasses.” I sound like a child who was promised a sucker and didn’t get one.
“Because I wear contacts when I ride.”
“Another mark for the cons column,” I mumble.
“ Huh. Emily Walker likes my glasses. Interesting.” I shoot big eyes at him and he just grins, pointing lazily at his ear. “I have bad eyesight, but excellent hearing.”
Before I can think better of it, I playfully bump my shoulder into his, knocking him off balance for a step. He looks just as stunned by my easy interaction as I feel. I’m that scene in Willy Wonka where the people are floating up to the ceiling. I’m light as a breeze in his presence and it’s astounding. Over the last few days, our dynamic has completely changed. We are no longer the two people who only see the other as competition. There’s more to us now. Layers. Context.
And I’m terrified to like it—because history suggests our rivalry always prevails and we will loop right back where we started. I don’t think I want it to this time.
Especially as I catch a subtle whiff of his cologne and a sharp tug of attraction hits me. I wish I could say that the attraction is just biological and aimed at the fantastic body I know lives under his clothes, because that would imply that I can turn this feeling off when he opens his mouth. But it’s not like that anymore. The more I get to know Jack…the more I…God help me—like him.
“You should enter a power-walking competition,” Jack says, breaking through my inner monologue and alerting me to the fact that I’ve been storming down the sidewalk. “Normally I’m happy to keep up, but this leather isn’t as breathable as you might think and if we keep it up, there will be armpit chafing.”
I press my lips together. “You wouldn’t have to worry about chafing if you just drove a normal vehicle like us intelligent individuals.”
“You really think it’s a good time to piss off the man who’s currently helping you get your dirty novel back before anyone reads it? In fact, I think I’ve changed my mind. You can handle it on your own, Goldie.” He pivots and starts strolling back toward his bike.
I shouldn’t be so desperate. Shouldn’t lay my hand of cards flat on the table for him to blatantly see, but as I watch him retreat with the echo of that cute nickname floating on the wind, I don’t even have time to stop myself from reacting. I lurch forward and grab his bicep. “Jack. Don’t you dare leave me alone with Marissa today.”
He’s still walking and I’m holding on to his arm as he drags me with him. The rubber soles on the bottoms of my sneakers are melting from the friction. I’m basically land skiing. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like you want me here all that much.”
It’s sarcasm dripping off his voice. Mischief painted on his smile, thick as honey. He wants me to play. But I rarely play. Don’t even really know how. “Jack, stop. Tell me what to say. I’ll say it.”
He stops and turns his body sharply into mine, looking down into my face. I don’t let go of his arm, so I can only imagine what sort of image we’re portraying at the moment. And I can’t bring myself to care as his smiling eyes look at my mouth. “I want to hear you say you want me here.” My stomach drops. “If I’m going to help you, I don’t want to do it under false pretenses. We’re both too blunt for that anyway. If I’m going to help you—the most capable woman I know—I want to hear you say it’s because you want me here with you.”
“Why?”
He shrugs and I feel the muscles in his arm move. “Because I’m selfish. Because I’m a prick. Because I delight in throwing you off balance. Pick any reason you want, the why is not important. If you want me here, you’re gonna have to say it.”
I hate him. I hate him for putting me under a microscope like this when all I want is to hide. I hate him for seeing that I do want him here. That I need a friend right now and don’t want to have to do this alone, and that I don’t just want any friend, I want his friendship.
His smiling amber eyes are my target. “Jack…Don’t go. I want you here.”
I expect to see his smug smile, but something else wars in his expression instead. Maybe he didn’t anticipate me actually saying it. Or it being true.
I only get to internally revel in knocking him off kilter for all of four heartbeats before he’s recovering with a devastating smile. He steps forward and angles his mouth at my ear—instinctively, my hand tightens around his arm. He drops his voice and whispers, “Good, now say please. ”
He’s already laughing as I shove him away. “Jack, will you please go step out in front of a moving bus? That would be so nice of you.”
I barely get my own laugh out before we’re interrupted.
“Jack. What are you doing here?” Our laughter immediately dies off and we both turn and find Marissa standing in the parking lot, her purse slung over the shoulder of her leopard print T-shirt and a lunch box in hand.
“Marissa!” Jack says, turning on the charm. “Just the woman I’m here to see.”
“Me?” Her blue eyes are huge.
“Yep. I think I left my favorite jacket in Bart’s office. I was hoping you could unlock the door for me so I can look.”
She looks hopeful and far too eager to do Jack’s bidding until she swings her gaze to me. “Then why is she here?”
Marissa said she like I’m the devil spawn from hell right at her front door. I’d like to be. Some nights I dream of horrendous things I could say to this woman. From my first day of working here when I organized the supply closet on my lunch break, she’s made it her mission to remind me that I’m not as special as I think I am, and that I better not try to overstep her. Maybe if her attitude was only aimed at me, I’d shrug it off. But she’s like this with all of the teachers (except Jack). So naturally, I overstep her every chance I can get.
Bart keeps her around as his muscle because he doesn’t have a backbone. He delegates each of his confrontational tasks to Marissa—which means after he reads my spicy novel, she’ll be the one to fire me.
I’m just about to open my mouth and tell Marissa just how sick of her attitude I really am, but Jack cuts in first. “I found her walking along the side of the road with her thumb up and a sad sign about losing all her money gambling in Vegas so I decided to give her a lift.”
I glare at him and he winks. And to his credit, the hostile energy in the air dissipates. This is why Jack is so easily loved by everyone. He has this uncanny ability to say exactly the right thing when it needs to be said. I usually go for saying the wrong thing and watching the room explode.
Marissa begins walking toward the front door. “You sure she’s not here to corner me about some brilliant idea she has?”
Jack falls in step beside me as we follow Marissa. I narrow my eyes at her back, hoping lasers might shoot out. Jack taps the back of my hand with his and like a miracle elixir my anger fades. A new sensation grows in its place.
I force a smile. “I promise, no brilliant ideas here.”
Marissa grunts. Like a cavewoman. “?’Bout time you realize that.”
Oh, that’s it. I’m going to—
Jack’s hand fully slips into mine this time. The air jumps from my lungs. His hand feels so good I actually have to look down at it. I have to see for myself what all the fuss is about. He squeezes once and when I look at him, he mouths, She’s not worth it today.
And then he pulls his hand away and I want to throw a fit. Put it back!
Marissa unlocks the front door of the school and Jack leans in so he can hold it open for her (and me) to walk through. She beams up at him as she and her apex predator shirt glide through the open door. “Always such a gentleman, Jack.”
I flutter my lashes up at him as I walk through next. “ Yes, ” I say in a quiet tittering voice only he can hear as I walk through. “ Such a gentleman. ”
“Kiss my ass,” that gentlemanly mouth whispers back at me.
I toss him the bird behind my back. He pokes my finger. And I couldn’t accurately explain the sensations I’m experiencing right now if I tried. It’s…so new for me. It’s what I imagine the fizzy bubbles in a freshly poured soda feel like.
Once we’re inside the school, Jack takes the lead and I drop back to give him some space to work his magic. And work his magic he does. It takes him less than two minutes of engaging with Marissa about her recent trip to Florida to visit her friend and laughing at her unoriginal jokes about catching crabs before he gets her to unlock Bart’s door. In fact, she’s so pleased to get to do something that he asks that she’s practically tripping all over herself to get to the door. Amazing. I always knew he was good at charming people, but I knew it in a resentful kind of way. It’s nice to be on the receiving end of it.
“Thank you so much,” Jack says, stepping into Bart’s office. “I could have sworn I left it in here somewhere.” The official plan was to look around the office under the pretense of having left his favorite jacket, and then once we spot the laptop and confirm it’s in there, he’ll act as a decoy and distract her outside the office long enough for me to open it, pray to the password gods that he doesn’t have one set, and then find the email and delete it.
Only problem is…Bart’s laptop is not in here.
“Dammit,” Jack mumbles, realizing the same thing I have. But then he remembers Marissa is watching. “I really hoped I’d find that jacket.”
“What color is it?” she asks. “Maybe it’s in lost and found.”
Jack looks at me and for some reason I think he’s silently asking me to respond. That’s how we both end up speaking at the same time with different answers.
“Black.”
“Blue.”
Marissa frowns.
“It’s blackish, blueish. Emily and I can never agree on which one it actually is.”
“But it’s black,” I say even though the jacket doesn’t exist because in this fake upside-down world I still must win. Jack just grins at me.
Marissa is walking us back out. “Well, I’ll keep an eye out for your blue jacket, Jack.” She would.
“Thanks so much. We’ll get out of your hair now.” And then as if an afterthought hit him and it wasn’t our entire goal by being here, he turns back to Marissa. “Oh, by the way—do you happen to know if Bart is going to do any work on vacation? I sent him an email about a potential curriculum idea and I’m wondering if I should expect an answer soon or wait awhile.”
What a smooth little liar.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath,” says Marissa while unlocking her own office door. “Bart takes his vacation week very seriously. There’s no way he’s doing a lick of work while he’s in the mountains.”
“Ah—I guess I’ll just have to be patient, then.”
I wait until we’re back at my truck to show my worry. “It wasn’t in there! He must have taken it with him.”
“Or, since he isn’t planning to do any work, he left it at home,” he says, refusing to let me only look on the negative side. But still, anxiety twists in my stomach. When my eyes drop, he ducks his head to catch my gaze again. “Hey. Even if he reads it, it doesn’t mean you’re automatically fired. There’s still a very good chance that he won’t care at all. You might have to endure a little moralizing from him, but if anyone can, it’s you.”
Suddenly, my mom’s voice rings in my ears out of nowhere: Find someone who helps you look on the bright side.
But jeez, ghost of my mother, that someone cannot be Jack.
“So what’s the plan now?” I say, opening my truck and climbing inside. Jack leans one arm on top of it and bends down to see me.
“The good news is, we’ve got plenty of time now that we know Bart isn’t going to be opening his emails until next week. The other good news is I’ve got some ideas to consider. The very, very bad news is, a few of the backup plans end with me having the bromance Bart has always hoped for.”
Before I can chicken out, I blurt exactly what I’m thinking. “Thank you, Jack.”
He’s too stunned to speak.
“Thank you for what you did back there. You went above and beyond. You are terrifyingly good at maneuvering people. You’re like the James Bond of social situations. So charming no one would actually know what a monster you are in private.” I say it as a spicy little cocktail of a compliment and old-school barb. The kind we’ve become comfortable in shooting at each other lately.
I expect him to smirk at me and toss one right back, but instead, I watch the light in Jack’s eyes dim.
“Yeah. No problem.” He lets go of my door and takes a step back toward his bike. “I’ve gotta get going.” He quickly zips up his jacket, pulls on his helmet, and throws his leg over the bike.
Umm…I definitely said the wrong thing somehow. Jack has completely shut down and is ready to get away from me as quickly as possible.
“I’ll see you back in our neck of the woods,” he says, and then gives me a brief two-finger wave before he backs his bike out of the spot and cruises toward the parking lot exit.
I watch him go, wondering what in the hell I said wrong, before turning my key in the ignition and only earning a little whine from the engine before it quits altogether. I try again, but the second time I turn the key all I get are clicks.
“ Dammit, ” I say, hitting my steering wheel.
I really don’t want to have to go back inside and endure Marissa while I ask to use her landline because my phone never gets service at the school, but Jack is already gone and—
I hear the sound of his bike getting louder again. Out my window, I see he’s turned around and is heading back in my direction. Had he been waiting to make sure I got out of here okay?
Gentleman, indeed.
“Is it dead?” he yells over his engine after pulling his bike up beside me again.
“I think it’s just napping.” I try one more time but again nothing happens.
I look up when movement beside my window catches my eye. It’s Jack, holding out a motorcycle helmet to me. “I’ve got a spare just in case.”
“No, no, no. I’m not getting on that bike with you.”
He shrugs. “Your call. Either you get on here with me and let me drive you home to call a mechanic, or you go back in there and beg your favorite person to let you use the phone.”
He extends the helmet farther in my direction. I look toward the school, and then again at Jack perched on the bike, looking tempting as sin.
“Damn you, Jackson.” I get out of my truck and slam the door behind me.