Three Months and You're Mine (In Too Deep) (8 page)

Chapter 8

Zack

Meredith was so freaking sexy I could barely stand it. I was planning on keeping the kiss pretty
tame since it was only lesson one, but she went and let out a moan. I had to stop for a second while I gathered my wits; otherwise I was liable to push her into the car so we could finish what we started.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Am I doing it wrong?" She was acting like it was an honest question, but she was smart enough to know
exactly
what I was battling at that moment. She knew good and well she wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Yeah, you're really a terrible kisser, Meredith. I'm just trying to decide if there's any hope for you. Not sure if I should even bother."

"It's so funny you say that," she said. "I was actually thinking the same exact thing. About you, I mean. That was
definitely
not one of the more enjoyable kisses I've experienced. In fact, I had a much better time kissing that guy on the dance floor earlier tonight."

"
Shiiit," I said sarcastically, implying she was joking. But she kept the straight face.

"No offense, but I think I was wrong for asking you to teach me some things since obviously I know more than you already."

I laughed in disbelief. I was just joking about her being a terrible kisser, and I thought she was joking too, but she just kept looking stone-faced about it. She looked up at me and then reached her hand behind my head, using her fingernails to gently scratch the nape of my neck as she pulled me down to her. "You shouldn't give up, though, Zack. I think you have potential." She whispered the words before putting her lips to mine again.

The only way I could describe the way kissing Meredith Blake felt was
right.
Her lips felt and tasted better than any others I'd ever kissed. I couldn't have dreamed up a better kiss if I tried. I took her face in my hands.

"Let's just be clear that you were joking." I hated myself for saying it, because I k
new it sounded insecure, but I couldn't resist. I was way too proud to end a conversation with a girl saying
I had potential.
Screw that.

She smiled. "
Is
that
your way of saying you
care
what I think?" She batted her eyes. "I'm flattered."

"I'm just saying… you were joking about the guy on the dance floor, right?"

She dropped her hands to her side. "Of course, you idiot. You already know how I feel about you. I've told you multiple t
imes how hot I think you are." She balled her little hand up into a fist and used it to gently tap on the side of my head, as if to ask if anyone was home. "Of course I was joking. That guy smelled like garlic. Plus, he wasn't even in the bigs. He was close, looks-wise, but the garlic was just too much."

"Garlic, huh? What do I smell like?"

"You smell like laundry detergent and a super-light cologne smell, probably more likely from deodorant or shower gel than a spray." She paused for a second then added, "Oh, and I can smell whatever you were drinking. It smells like whiskey, but in a good way, like maybe you chewed a mint or something. You smell good, Zack. Freaking good. Like a guy should smell when he kisses you."

"I like how you smell too," I said. I grabbed the sides of her face and turned it, bending to put my face near her neck. It probably looked as if I was going in for a kiss, but instead I
faked to the side and breathed in the clean smell of her neck. "Yep. It's good," I said. I smiled at her. It was the middle of the night, and I stared into her stormy blue eyes. I remembered how she tasted, and I wanted to taste her again. "I'm going to kiss you now," I warned. I leaned into her gently putting my lips on hers. It was hard to use such restraint when I wanted desperately to deepen the kiss.

As if she were reading my mind, Meredith
lifted her chin and opened her mouth to mine. We shared a wet, hot, open-mouthed kiss, all the while managing to keep the touch really light. I was trying to remain gentle, gentle, gentle, when all I wanted was to be urgent, urgent, urgent.

Reluctantly, I broke the kiss and cleared my throat. "Um, I
uh, I should probably be going," I said. I didn't really know
where
I was going, but if I stayed there any longer with her, I'd be making all sorts of mistakes.

"Yeah," she said. The disappointment was written all over her face. "I guess I figured you'd want to call it quits, but it still feels bad when it's actually happening."

"Just know that I'm tempted, Meredith. I don't want to take it slow, but the situation being what it is, I don't see where I have a choice."

For a second, she looked as if she would protest, but then looked like she resolved to change her mind.
"I understand," she said. I didn’t know if she meant it or not, but she seemed sincere enough, so I chose to believe her.

She got into the driver's seat of her car and started to dig in her purse. She pulled out her phone, and began texting. I probably should have gotten on my motorcycle and gone home, but I stood there watching, expecting her to start the car and drive off.

She never did.

Finally, she opened the car door. "I'm not leaving just yet." She held up her phone for me to inspect. "I'm
gonna take care of a few texts real quick." 

"All right." I
said, holding my hands up, "but I felt much better when I thought you were going home."

"If it makes you feel better, I'll tell you I'm going home."

"Is it true?"

"It's true if you don't count my stop at—" Meredith looked down at her phone, to get the name of the place.
"Public House No. 5 on Sharondale Ave."

I
threw a hand into the air in a helpless gesture. "You're a fucking handful, Meredith."

"It's a good thing nobody's asking you to babysit me
, then." She flashed me a mischievous grin. "I'll probably see you sooner, but I'll see you in three months for sure."  She blew me a kiss as she turned to start her engine. The signal for me to be on my way was loud and clear. I couldn't think of another time when I'd been dismissed from a girl's presence like that, and it sort of made me want to do things to make her beg me to stay.

I didn't do any of those things.
Instead I walked over to my motorcycle, straddled it, put my helmet on, and turned the key. The engine revved to life and Meredith's head snapped up to look at me. It wasn't obnoxiously loud, but it did command respect, and I enjoyed watching her watch me take off.

I was more than half way home when I changed my mind and decided to head to the all night pub where Meredith
said she was going. I wasn't quite sure why I hadn't just gone there with her in the first place. I wanted to see her again, and who cared what Collin thought about it. I was smiling as I pulled a U turn and doubled back in the direction of Sharondale Avenue. I was feeling just reckless enough to make some mistakes with Meredith and deal with them later.

The accident I was blindsided with, however, was
not
a result of my own recklessness. I was within a mile of the pub when it happened. It was so quick that there was absolutely no way I could have done anything to stop it.

I was riding through a green light, when a truck ran a red light and ended up in the middle of the intersection at exactly the wrong second.

Time stood still, and I found myself in that vortex that happens when the probability of tragedy hits you like a bomb. Adrenaline instantly began coursing through me, like a hot wave of instant energy.

I had a split second to make my choice. Continue on the straight path, and collide head long with the side of the truck, or lay the bike down, and pray I can skid to a stop. Even though it was only a matter of a few seconds from recognition to impact, I knew in my heart that the results of this collision would be devastating.

I chose to lay the bike down. I jerked the handlebar toward the left and I thought I managed to get the bike to the ground—tires out in front of me, before I collided with the rear wheel of the truck.

I regained consciousness in the back of an ambulance. I instinctually reached for my pocket in
search of my phone. I don't know who I thought I was going to call. It was just pure instinct, and I was completely out of it.

"He's conscious. Mr. Larson, please try not to move. You've been in
an accident, and we're taking care of you." Suddenly and without warning, I felt an unbearable stab of pain radiating down my leg, and my ears started ringing as I lost consciousness again. I woke up a few times in the ambulance, and a few more times in what seemed to be an emergency room situation, but everything was really fuzzy, and it was hard to stay up for longer than a few seconds at a time.

The first conversation I remember being coherent for was a day later. I remembered bits and pieces of the aftermath of the accident,
but I was in a dizzy haze that went from numb to extremely painful without warning. The first conversation that I felt halfway present for was with my mother.

"You're going to be alright," she said. I could tell she'd been crying, but she was holding it together. "Your knee was pretty bad, but they know who you are, baby, and they've had the best of the best here for your surgery."

I looked at her, confused. "Surgery?"

"
You were in surgery for a long time sweetheart, and the doctors say you'll probably need at least a couple more procedures before it's all said and done." I stared blankly at her, trying to put together the pieces. I thought I'd been in an accident on my motorcycle, and knew I'd been in a hospital for a while. I recalled being awake and talking a few other times before that conversation with my mom, but everything before it seemed like a dream.

I reached up and touched my face, realizing for the first time that there was a huge bandage on
the entire side of my head.

"Don't mess with it, baby. It's where a piece of the rearview mirror slipped underneath your helmet. You were lucky it didn't hit your eye."

"How'd the mirror hit me there?" I picked up my hand and slid it in the air beside my ear to mimic the sliding motion the mirror must have done to go underneath my helmet like that.

"Don't touch it Zack." My mom took my hand and gently put it back at my side. "You need to calm down.
"

I had to smile at her even though doing so pulled at the bandages and made me uncomfortable.

"Zachary Paul, I'm serious. You need to take it easy." She glared at me, daring me to defy her.

"What, Mom? I'm just smiling."

"I know sweetheart, but my heart hurts for you. They said they had to reattach your earlobe."

"What the hell? Are you serious?" My hand flew up to touch the bandage.

"Zack don't, you could hurt it. Now just calm down."

I held my hand up gently in surrender. My voice came out as almost a whisper. "I'm not freaking out, Mom. Just tell me what else is wrong with me so I can start wrapping my head around what I'm dealing with here."

"I'm trying to tell you that stuff, if you would just let me. In fact, maybe I should get a doctor or nurse
in here to explain it to you now that your up and talking so good. They'd probably know how to tell you exactly what injuries you have. I might get something wrong."

"Just tell me mom." I pi
cked my head up off the pillow, and looked down the length of my body. My left leg was elevated and there were metal rods sticking out of my knee. It looked like a fucking pincushion. I let my head fall back onto the pillow in frustration.

"Be careful, Zack." She pushed the nurses call button nervously as if she couldn't handle another second of being in charge.
The nurse's voice came over the speaker asking if everything was okay. My mom told her that I was up and talking, and they said they'd have someone come right away.

"I'm fine, mom, I'm just pissed off." I tried to speak as calmly as possible so she could focus
and tell me what I wanted to know. "Just tell me what the damage is."

"It's your face and your knee. That's al
l. They don't think there was anything internal, thank God."

"What's wrong with my face?"

"I already told you—you got cut by the mirror. One of the best plastic surgeons in the world stitched you back up, but he said you'll probably still have a bit of a scar." She held up her fingers indicating roughly a three inch piece of face, stretching from her upper cheek just below her eye, down to the back of her earlobe. "That's what the bandage is about. The rest of your head is fine… they think." She let out a frustrated groan. "I'm not really sure what they said, Zack, I'm overwhelmed. I know they still have tests to run, but so far things look good, baby."

"She's right.
Things are looking good for you, Mr. Larson," said a female voice.

I looked up to find a woman in a white lab coat holding a chart and smiling
broadly at me. "I'm Doctor Groves. I'm glad I happened to be up here when you woke up."