Chapter 16 #2
I tilt my head. “At least you don’t have to go to a wedding with them.
This event has had so much build up, it’ll be a relief when it’s done and we can all stop stressing.
Gia’s going to need to find a hobby, or a few of them.
This wedding has totally taken over her life.
It basically defines her at this point and she’s going to be so lost when it’s over.
She’s been agonizing over every little detail. ”
“Sounds intense.” Zach glances at me. “I could come, if you like, to be your moral support.”
I hesitate. Not only will Jayden not be at the wedding, which will throw Gia for a loop, but now Zach wants to come? “I’ll check with my sister and keep you posted,” I respond, even though I have no plans to do that.
“Do you know what I do when things don’t go the way I want, and I have to accept that it’s just the way it’s going to be?”
I shake my head. “Lay it on me.”
“I get ice cream. A double scoop. Let’s go.”
I remember how adamant I was that my night was going to be a business interaction and that I would never see Zach again after this evening and this is totally not the way I expected anything to go, but here I am, back on the park bench near my dad’s house, with a double scoop of ice cream in hand, feeling perfectly blissful while chowing down on mint chocolate chip goodness, even though today’s the day I finally had to accept the fact that Mom and Dad won’t be together anymore.
“I want to show you something,” Zach says suddenly, his eyes lighting up. “Do you have a bit more time?”
“What is it?”
“You need to wait and see.”
“Have I ever mentioned that I don’t like surprises?” I can tell that a wide grin is forming on my face against my will, so I try to straighten my lips into an unamused line.
“You’ll like this one,” he says, getting off the picnic bench and heading back to the parking lot.
We get in his car, and he pulls out of the parking lot. The radio’s playing a Queen song, and he twists the volume up until Freddie Mercury’s voice fills the space.
We talk about the weather, our childhoods, our friends, and it’s refreshing not to be fixated on our parents for once now that we’ve come to terms with the fact that our hands are tied. Their relationship will continue with or without our support.
Every time the conversation seems to be going in the direction of bringing them up, one of us quickly changes the subject.
“Where are you taking me? A different state?” I say finally, because we’ve been driving for almost an hour.
I just hope he’s not taking us back to the beach resort to use their pool or do another talent show.
It would be hard not to connect that place to our parents and I am definitely not in the mood for any more guest participation.
“Almost there,” he says.
After a while, he slows down and pulls into a wooded area, parking at the mouth of a trail where the trees cast soft shadows across the path. He gets out and opens my door, a small act of chivalry I quietly appreciate. In my opinion, gestures like that never go out of style.
We walk down the path, twigs crunching beneath our feet. The scents of grass and wildflowers fill the air. I hear water flowing before I see it—a little creek, and then I realize where we are. The bus poster location.
“How?” I ask. “How did you manage to find this place?”
“I asked around at work and got the contact info for the guy who took the shot and he gave me the directions,” Zach says, his voice bright with excitement.
We step through the underbrush into a quiet clearing, where the same winding trail curls past a sunlit creek, its surface sparkling beneath the canopy of evergreens overhead.
It’s the place that always pulled me away from my office when I needed a quick escape, and somehow, with Zach beside me, it feels even more peaceful than I remember. I didn’t think that was possible.
I do what I always imagined when I was stuck in the office. I lay back on the grass, and it’s soft, despite the occasional pine needle here and there. Zach chuckles and lies down beside me and it’s just as beautiful here as I thought it would be.
As I lay there, staring up at the bits of sky peeking through the branches, I think about how meaningful it is that Zach found this place for us. That’s when an idea comes to me. A story.
It’s about a woman who can only remember being truly happy a handful of times in her life.
One day, as she’s flipping through old photos, she notices something strange: in every picture where she’s smiling—really smiling—the same man appears in the background.
Always there, just out of focus. So she decides to find him.
Maybe he’s the key. Maybe he’s the reason for all her happiest moments.
“I just thought of a story idea,” I say, sitting up.
“Oh yeah? Does that happen often?”
“It hasn’t happened in years.” I honestly mean it. Ideas used to come to me all the time, but over the last few years, if I ever want to write something, I need to Google prompts online and everything I end up writing comes out sounding unnatural and forced.
But now . . . first the poem and then the story, it’s like my mind’s opening up and my writer’s block is finally over.
I tell Zach my story idea.
“How did you come up with something like that so fast? We were lying here for what, five minutes?”
“I knew that there was something about this place,” I say. “It’s so peaceful here without the traffic and crowds, it just kind of came to me. That hasn’t happened for so long.”
“I guess we need to come here more often then,” Zach says. “Maybe I should bring my guitar next time. See if any song ideas come to me.”
“I wouldn’t mind coming back,” I say and pick a few dandelions, attempting to knot them into a crown to wear. “Who knows what I could come up with if I were here all of the time.”
“The day the photographer took the photos was the Fourth of July last year,” Zach says.
“I love that. He said the best part of it was that he felt independent on Independence Day. He said he was celebrating our country in his own way and it felt good. I kind of feel like skipping the parties and coming somewhere like this for the Fourth of July.”
“I spent that day at a parade with Maren,” I say. I remember that we drank vodka cranberry out of thermoses and danced as we watched the floats go by and it was fun, but maybe a bit too wild. “I would have preferred to be somewhere peaceful like this too.”
We’re quiet for a while, and as we sit there, not speaking, I notice the buzz of insects, the creaking of trees, the rush of breeze through the branches, the chirps of different birds. And Zach’s breath, slow and steady.
I turn on my side and press my face lightly into his cheek and then an urge comes over me. I want more. I trace my finger along his chest and stomach, then his thigh, just a cautious, tentative touch. I need to make sure I’m not misreading the situation.
That’s all the invitation Zach needs. In one smooth motion, he rolls me on top of him.
I press my palms to his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammer against my skin.
Our lips are so close, I can taste his breath.
The tension thrums between us, electric, unbearable.
I lean in, and our mouths meet, hungry and urgent.
Clothes go flying, and I’m straddling him, breathless, still in my bra and panties.
He makes a low noise that sounds like a growl, then flips me onto my back.
He kisses along my neck and abdomen, then takes my panties in his mouth, sliding them over my thighs and ankles.
He nuzzles his face between my legs, and I let out a loud moan, which energizes him.
His tongue explores me, taking his time.
I squeal in pleasure, wanting him. I guide his face up and kiss him, tasting the sweat on his skin, a flicker of anticipation running through me as he fumbles in his discarded pants pocket for a condom. When he’s back, his breath brushes my cheek, and a shiver courses through me.
When he pushes into me, I exhale hard. For a few seconds, I just hold on to his back, feeling him linger for a moment, like he’s letting the tension that’s built up between us ease before moving again.
Then he finds a rhythm, and I move with him, matching it, immersed in sensation.
The air is cool against my skin, his warmth pressed into every part of me.
The sounds we make seem louder out here between the rustle of the grass, and I hear a low moan that I barely recognize as my own.
My body responds without thought, tightening, pressing, shivering with each pull and push.
I let my hands explore him, feeling the tension in his muscles and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Every nerve is alive, every movement intense, and I can’t help wishing it would last a little longer.
The pleasure builds until it’s too much to hold in, and I let go, my body tightening around him as I come. A few seconds later, he follows, his breath shuddering against my neck. We stay that way for a long moment, still tangled together in the open air.