M. Leighton: Some Like It Wild

Surely to God she doesn’t have the audacity to come sit with me!

And yet, she does. My mother shifts her legs to the side to allow Tori to pass. I do not. I keep my back straight, my feet planted, and my eyes trained straight ahead.

When she sits down beside me, I scoot a fraction of an inch toward my mother. I hear Tori’s sigh, and I grit my teeth.

“Really? This is how you’re going to act? In church ?” Tori whispers.

As much as I’d like to say to her, as much as I’d like to blister her ears, I keep my mouth shut and ignore her.

“Nice. Real Christian of you, Laney.”

I turn my blazing eyes on her. “ You are telling me what’s Christian?” My laugh, though soft, is discernibly bitter. “Oh, okay.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You won’t even give me a chance to explain. You’re judging me without knowing all the facts.”

I whip my head back around to look at her. “I don’t need an explanation, Tori. I found you in bed with my fiancé. Unless you have a twin that I don’t know about, I’m not interested in your explanation.”

“It’s not what you think, Laney,” Tori says, her eyes pleading with me.

“I might be the preacher’s daughter and I might be tame by some people’s standards, but I’m not an idiot. I know what I walked in on.”

“You think you know what you walked in on,” Tori replies.

Suddenly, I’m tired. Tired of feeling hurt. Tired of feeling betrayed. Tired of trying to figure out the why of it all. Tired of feeling . . . less. Shane wanted a wild girl. He found one. End of story.

It just sucks that it was my very best friend in the whole world.

“It’s done, Tori. I’m over it. Over Shane. Over you.” I turn my attention back to the choir. I school my features to look politely interested, something I learned to do years ago so my father wouldn’t fuss at me for misbehaving in church. But inside, there’s a hole in my heart. I don’t know if she can hear me, and I don’t really care when I add, “It’s time to fill my life with different people. People who don’t lie.”

Despite the fact that I’m still aching over what my best friend and my fiancé did to me, the first person to pop into my head is Jake Theopolis. He doesn’t lie about who or what he is. What you see is what you get. Plain and simple. He’s a bad boy, yes. But he’s also a breath of fresh air. And my stagnant life feels very much in need of just that.

I’m glad I drove to church. This way, I can escape just after Daddy closes the service. I can get away before anyone else asks me about Shane, and before Tori can catch me.

I drive through town, not really thinking of where I’m going. I only know two things: I don’t want to be at church and I don’t want to go home. But what does that leave? As I drive aimlessly up and down the streets, through a town full of people I’ve known most of my life, I feel completely and utterly alone.

After half an hour of wasting gas, I hear the ding of the low-gas alarm, signaling that I have five miles left before I’m empty. I pull into the parking lot of Big A Grocery and turn around, heading back down route sixty, the way I’d come.

As I pass the fire station, a familiar Jeep catches my eye.

Jake.

My heart speeds up. How did I miss that before?

Several guys are standing just inside the huge, open bay door, gathered beside a bright red fire truck. I crane my neck to see if one of them is Jake, but I pass too fast to get a good look.

I glance in my rearview mirror, hoping to get a glimpse of him, but I don’t, and within a few seconds, they’re too far away for me to discern much, anyway.

Pressing on the accelerator, I try to put my curious desire to see Jake again out of my mind. But it’s no use. Within a mile or so, I’m hanging a U-turn in front of the Stop-N-Shop convenience store and heading back toward the fire station to make one more pass.

This time when I go by, the guys are dispersing. I slow down a bit and watch two men back toward some cars parked in the right side of the front lot. My stomach does a little flip when I see Jake step around the corner at the mouth of the bay and yell something to one of the guys leaving. They all laugh, and the man nearest Jake jabs him in the ribs with his elbow.

I don’t realize that I’ve slowed almost to a stop to stare at Jake’s gorgeous, laughing face until he turns and his eyes meet mine through the open passenger window of my car. My cheeks go up in flames.

Busted!

Quickly, I turn to stare straight ahead as I punch the gas pedal. The car takes off, but then with a chug-chug-chug, it comes to a stop just a little way past the fire station.

Mortified, bedazzled, and totally confused, I pump the gas and turn the key in the ignition. I glance around helplessly, unable to think of anything else to do. My brain isn’t working right and it only worsens matters when I hear the velvety voice rumble through the quiet interior of my car.

“Car problems?”

Leaning down at the passenger side window, looking inordinately pleased and ridiculously handsome, is Jake.

Of course it’s Jake! He’s ever-present when there’s humiliation to be witnessed.

“Uhhh, car problems?” I repeat, still feeling scatterbrained after seeing Jake laughing with his friends like that. I’ve never been more physically attracted to someone. Ever. “I guess. I mean, I don’t . . .”

Then it hits me. And my embarrassment triples.

I freakin’ drove back to stare at freakin’ Jake Theopolis and let my freakin’ car run out of freakin’ gas!

Dear God, just let me die!

I close my eyes and lean forward to rest my forehead on the steering wheel. For one fleeting moment in time, I think, Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be back in church when I open my eyes , and that none of this is real. That I didn’t just run my car out of gas to gawk at a guy. And then get discovered doing it.

But, alas, I’m not so fortunate. When I crack my lids and look straight ahead at my dash, I see the needle of accusation pointing to the E of humiliation on my gas gauge.

In the absence of any kind of intelligible speech on my part, Jake leans into the car and takes a look at the dials, too. He smells like soap and cinnamon, and I notice that he’s chewing a toothpick again.

He turns his head toward me, catching me looking at him. His amber eyes flash and his lips spread into a grin as he wiggles the toothpick between them.

“I’ve never had a girl run out of gas just to get my attention before.”

My face burns and my mouth works itself open and closed like that of a fish out of water as I try to deny it. But the words won’t come, mainly because they’re only half-truths. It wasn’t purposeful, but still, I let myself run out of gas because of Jake Theopolis. There’s just no getting around it. “That’s ridiculous!” I finally manage.

“Is it now?” Up close, I can count every long, black lash that surrounds his warm eyes, and all coherent thought goes right out the window. “Either way, you’re mine now, so let’s get this car out of the road.” Before I can argue, Jake backs away and puts his shoulder against the frame of the window. “Put it in neutral,” he shouts. I do as he says, not really having much choice.

With a grunt, Jake pushes until the car starts to roll. “Steer it to the curb,” he instructs, which I do. In no time, he has used his admittedly impressive strength to get the car out of the road. He walks around the front of the car and opens my door. “Set your emergency brake and roll up the windows.” When I’ve done both, he reaches into the car and takes my hand. “Now, come with me.”