Wild Card

by Elsie Silver

Ah, more granola, woo-woo, make-lemonade, salt-of-the-earth shit. Exactly what I’m in the mood for.

There’s a kind way to let a girl down, and it isn’t by letting her constantly check her phone like a desperate teenager hoping that the cute boy she’s obsessed with might text her. For months. I stayed positive and “glass half-full” and all those things I pride myself on being while I waited for him to reach out. And he didn’t.

To the outside observer, it would appear that I’m staring at the guy I showed up here with. But they would be wrong. I’m staring at his dad.

ahhhhh

Hell, I can feel it in my own. This is a cruel, cruel joke. Because I may not know him well, but I ache for him all the same. I would have chosen him.

that I’m too much⁠—” “Who the fuck told you that?”

“You don’t bother me, Gwen.” I give him my best disbelieving look. I don’t want to argue, but I also don’t buy it. He just sighs,

Gwen: In all those zombie movies and shows, I will never understand those people’s obsession with staying alive. For what? Living in a zombie world where everything sucks and all is lost? No, sir. Not for me. Peace out, bitches. It’s been a slice. On to the next.

“The thing is, Gwen, next time you want to watch me, you should just ask.”

My brain function stutters as my eyes snap to his. “Pardon me?”

“You hear...

“Fuck it,” I mutter.

Then I kiss her.

Lavender. Lilacs. The color of the sun when it rises over heavy wildfire smoke.

But it’s so much more than that. It’s the realization that she’s everything I want.

She’s fucking breathtaking. And the fact that she didn’t roll out of my bed is downright criminal.

I wanted it to be an every-night thing.

He scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into his voice. “What? You’re dating someone else?” “Not exactly.” Her eyes shift to me, then back to him. “Not yet.”

“What did you like the best? So I know for next time.” My heart does this girlish pitter-patter in my chest. Next time. God, I hope so.

“If anyone is on this channel, can you wish Gwen a happy birthday?” He sneaks a mischievous look at me before adding, “It’s her first time.”

“Wow,” I sigh. Because no other word seems to do this view justice. “This is beautiful.” “Yeah. It is,” Bash agrees. But when I turn back to face him, he’s not looking out the window. He’s looking at me.

“What I should have done months ago” is all I say. Then I grip the back of her neck, drag her mouth to mine, and kiss her.

My head tips back as I groan, “Fuuuck.” She’s all soft, pale skin and full, feminine curves. I could look at her for days, spend hours getting lost in this body.

All I can see is her. All I can feel is her. All I can taste is her. I’m fucking drowning in her and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Suddenly, I don’t have anywhere else to be. I’m right where I belong.

The world knows him as Emmett Bush, suave, cocky, championship bull rider. But I know him as Emmett Brandt, sarcastic, complicated, longtime friend.

Flawless??!?

He reaches a hand toward me. “Hi. I’m Beau. Here to help you out. What do you say we get the hell off this mountain?”

beau babyyyyy

“I love you so fucking much,” Bash rasps against my hair, hands gliding over the back of my head, my spine, as though having to feel me to know that I’m real. “I didn’t know where you were. You could have died. I could have lost you. And all I could think was the last thing I’d have said to you was that you never stay anywhere for long. I told you to wait for me and then I told you to leave. And I… Gwen, I need you. Like my next breath. It’s… I can’t breathe without you. If you leave for Costa Rica, I’m coming with you. Where you go, I’ll follow. I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together.”

“You’re my limes, Bash. I’m the tequila. You and me? We’re gonna spend the rest of our lives making margaritas, okay?”

Bash pulls me in again now, a tearful chuckle getting lost in the strands of my hair. “Like I said, a fucking wild card.”