Page 47 of Hammered and Nailed
"Only because it would mean we might miss out on the rest of the date."
He shook his head fondly and hurried around to get into the truck. I climbed into the driver’s seat and checked the time before putting the truck in gear. We had just enough time, if we hurried. I’d arranged a final surprise with a friend who owed me a favor, and I didn’t want to be late or miss it altogether, no matter how much my dick protested. As we drove, we listened to the music from our high school years and reminisced about those days, the way we’d become friends in high school, the dreams we’d had back then.
“Remember when I thought I’d be a professional football player?” I asked, a self-deprecating smirk on my face.
Emery nodded and chuckled softly. “You were good, though. I loved coming to games and cheering you on, even back then.”
“That’s not possible. You hate football,” I countered.
“I didn’t want you to know how much I liked it. I thought that might seem…” He gestured vaguely and shrugged.
“Too gay?”
A laugh burst out of him. “I was going to say ‘too attached.’ I didn’t want you to know how much I preferred your company to others’, not then. We’d only just started hanging out in late high school, and I didn’t want it to feel one-sided.”
I nodded slowly. “Understood. Well, I loved having you at my games. It was always exciting to look up in the stands and see someone I cared about genuinely excited for me. Besides my family, I mean.”
When the conversation lulled, Emery sighed softly. “And remember how I wanted to be a famous actor? How things change.”
“You’re doing it though. I mean, maybe you’re not a famous actor on Broadway or in Hollywood, but you’re getting the next generation excited about theatre. That’s gotta count for something.”
“Yeah,” he murmured. “It does count. I’m glad I’m doing it.” A quiet beat passed. “Did I tell you I applied for that job we talked about?”
I frowned, brow furrowing. “What job?”
“Don’t you remember? Just before the end of the school year, we talked about that teaching job in Birchwood Bay, up near the cabins. Birchwood Institute of the Arts.”
“Vaguely.” I racked my brain to remember what he was talking about. It sounded a familiar but I couldn’t recall the specifics. “I'm sorry. Remind me?”
“The BIA is hiring another theatre teacher. I could’ve sworn I told you about it. I applied back in May, but I haven’t heard anything back, so I’m probably not even being considered. It doesn’t matter. It just occurred to me while we were talking about our high school aspirations. That’s all.”
I nodded again. I had lots of thoughts about Emery applying to teach at a school four hours away, but I didn’t want to ruin the night by bringing up reservations or concerns. I tried to shove them aside mentally and refocus myself for the evening.
We were almost home, and I was antsy and excited about the surprise, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel and glancing at Emery to see if he had any inkling of what I had planned. Once we arrived at the house, I rushed to open his door.
"Come on now, it’s almost time."
He frowned, brow furrowing, and let me lead him to the back patio, where I’d set up twinkle lights everywhere, stringing them above the hot tub and the deck, and where I’d placed a Bluetooth speaker to connect to my phone. When we stepped onto the porch, I cued up the next playlist I’d prepared, and soft music spilled from the speakers.
Emery narrowed his eyes at me. "This is what we were going to be late for?"
I shook my head, smiling. "Not quite." I pulled him into my arms and we began to slow dance, and less than a minute into the song, an explosion sounded above our heads, followed by crackling. Emery stopped dancing and looked around. "Was that—"
"Fireworks," I said, unable to contain myself any longer. I turned him toward where the fireworks were bursting into brilliant color above our heads. "For you. I called a friend. Pulled some strings."
He cleared his throat. "You did this for me?"
“Yeah," I murmured, taking his hand. "Of course I did. I promised you a real, romantic date, didn’t I?"
He nodded and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the dim light. "You did. You really did.”
We stood and watched until the fireworks display ended in a riot of color and sound before I took him in my arms and we dancedagain. After a few songs passed, I murmured in Emery’s ear, low and sultry. “How would you like to take this inside?”
He shivered and pulled back to grin at me. “I think that sounds like an excellent plan.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emery
