Wicked Restless

We watch about ten more minutes of TV. The entire time, all I see are Emma’s eyes—her goddamned heartbreaking eyes.

I don’t know what I expected, how I thought any of this would go. I know I wasn’t expecting to see her though, and maybe that was stupid. It’s clear that Lindsey is her best friend. And unless I planned on ditching Lindsey and never calling her again, changing my number and avoiding her at all costs, there wasn’t much of a chance that I would never see Emma.

I knew it was her the second I stepped into the restaurant. Her hair color is unmistakable. I’m sure to anyone else, there’s nothing about it that’s unique or rare. But I can see it. It’s familiar. It’s part of me.

I know how it feels in my hands.

My first reaction was anger. That’s what urged me forward. Something inside got excited at the idea of messing with her, making her feel uncomfortable and out of place. Fuck—if I’m being honest with myself, I wanted to see her cry.

And then she looked at me.

I didn’t want to make her cry any more. But it was there. She looked sick, and shocked. And the next ten minutes were this pendulum of hate and pity, and I wanted to punish her and save her at the same time. I’m still swaying now.

“Dude, what are these?” Trent gets my attention from the kitchen. I stand up to see him lifting the lid off the cookies.

“Oh, yeah. The chick whose license it was made me cookies. I had one; they’re good. Go ahead,” I say, walking toward him.

Of course she made cookies. And then I made the cookies into something sinister. I taunted her, twisted the guilt knife I imagined in her gut, and it felt good and terrible all at once. I couldn’t stop, though. I just couldn’t stop.

“Oh shit, these are good,” Trent says, inhaling the rest of the cookie he started and picking up another one. “Oh…hey. I think there’s a note in here for you,” he adds, crumbs falling from his mouth as he chews and slips a paper from the edge of the tin and begins to open it.

My chest seizes a little, and I reach for it quickly, taking the folded paper from his hand. He looks at me like I’m crazy for a second, but rolls his eyes eventually and just gives over to his second cookie. I unfold it and hold it in my hand in such a way that he can’t read it. Trent knows the name Emma. He doesn’t know she’s the girl, but he knows she’s one I don’t care to see again. Apparently, I got really lit one night at a team party and made up an entire rap about her. It wasn’t flattering. Trent isn’t stupid, and I know he’d put this moment and that one together quickly. I don’t want to have to lie and say it’s just a coincidence—so I graze over the words without really reading then shove the note into my pocket.

“What’d it say?”

Nosey fucker.

“Just thanks, you saved me, you’re my hero, I want you, take me…” I make a joke out of it, and Trent flips me off then grabs another cookie.

“You going to study hall tomorrow?” he asks, and I’m unusually grateful for the change in subject—even if the new subject is also a pain in my ass. Part of being in the university’s athletics department is making mandatory grade checks. It’s never a problem for me, but everyone has to log so many hours a week at the study room near the athletic department whether they really need to go or not. I’m always making up my hours at the last minute, and I’m five behind for the month.

I sigh in response, looking up at the ceiling before leveling my gaze back at my friend.

“Dude, don’t take it out on me. It’s not my fault you’re smart and don’t need to sit in a library with the rest of us dumbshits,” he says. “You better go tomorrow though. You know they’re checking hours before the game Friday.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll go,” I say over my shoulder. I leave Trent with the rest of the cookies and shut my bedroom door behind me. I pull Emma’s note from my pocket the second I’m alone, sitting on my bed and flattening out the paper against my leg. She wrote a lot. Maybe it’s a lot. I wouldn’t know—this would be the first letter I’ve ever gotten from her.

Dear Drew,

Thank you for being the kind of guy who pays attention to lost things. You have no idea the trouble you saved me. I made you these cookies because they’re my favorite. It was the least I could do. I’m glad you met Lindsey. She’s a great girl, and I think you’ll like her a lot (do not tell her I said that ;-) )

Anyhow. Really, thank you again. I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me—and here I was a complete stranger.