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“Alright, everyone, five minutes are going on the clock! Ready...steady...go!”
I grab Zooey’s arm as the crowd surge forward, peeling off in different directions of the forest. Zooey’s strides are confident as she tries to lead the way, and we enter the thick forested area. It’s kind of insane how big this place is, but I’m sure Zooey has been here before, I have to remember.
It’s dark as we enter the forest and I hear a few lame screams as the actors jump out on unsuspecting party guests. Zooey finally cracks a smile, shaking her head to herself. She looks over at me and the sparkle has returned to her eyes. She’s still not smiling, but she’s running hard, so I put all my effort into it, matching her pace.
“Can we talk?” I ask her, though my lungs feel like they’re being juggled each time my feet pound the floor.
“When we find somewhere to hide,” Zooey replies a little breathlessly. “I know a place we can go.”
I let her lead the way. Several times, actors in zombie or werewolf masks leap out and try to scare us, but it makes us both laugh more than scream. While the crowds thin out, Zooey confidently runs in a weaved path through the thicker parts of the forest. She’s got an advantage, that’s for sure, but that’s what I want. The further out we can get, the more time we’re going to have alone.
Our five minutes are almost up when Zooey slows down. Here, the woodland dips downward. At the top of the small slope is an impressive tree. Its roots spill downward into the pit like tendrils. Zooey stops and begins to clamber over some of the roots, so I follow her. I find her nestled among them in a small natural alcove made by the tree. She offers a small smile.
“I used to go off by myself and hide from the thoughts I had about my father all the time when I was younger,” she says quietly. A place like this reminds me of the places I’d run to to be by myself.”
I sigh and clamber in beside her. I don’t know what happened between her and her father to make them so distant, but I guess it’s none of my business. In fact, at this point, I don’t even care. My focus is on her, and not him. I won’t make the mistake of bringing him into the equation again. This is about what I feel, and what she feels. All of a sudden, I couldn’t care less about my best friend’s feelings.
“Zooey...I want to apologize,” I tell her quietly. The last thing I want now is for us to be caught out here. “I shouldn’t have asked about the business...that’s between you and him. I won’t get myself in the middle of the pair of you again. But...I guess that’s kind of tricky, considering how much I want you.”
Zooey’s eyes widen. She looks like she might have forgiven me pretty quickly, but her anger has quickly been replaced with nerves. She clearly doesn’t know what to say. She wants this as much as I do, but now, I’ve put her in a position where she has to make a decision - does she want to take a risk, or play on the safe side?
I make the decision for her and kiss her.
Zooey
His lips on mine are all I’ve ever wanted. It’s exactly how I pictured my first real kiss - not some staged one that I’ve had in theater class. This is the real deal. His strong hands cup my face, and his lips are firm, but soft. I can tell from his urgency how much he wants me. How much he wants this to happen.
We shouldn’t be doing this, but I’m not going to hold back now. I’ve come this far. For once, I’m not thinking of anyone else. I’m going to finally focus on myself and my needs. And right now, I need him.
He pulls away from me and his lips dive to kiss my neck. Each time his lips meet my skin, it’s like he’s drawing the breath from my lungs. I’m tingling all over, wetter than I thought possible between my legs. His teeth nip my neck and I gasp loudly. I never thought a man would be able to draw such a sexual noise from me, but I can’t help it. I’ve never been so turned on.
His lips move downward to my chest. My breasts are spilling out over the corset of my fake wedding dress and his lips worship them, his hand moving to cup one of my breasts. I buck into him, wanting more, desperate for his touch.
“For the first time, I’m glad my father throws these ridiculous parties,” I say breathlessly. Wes laughs throatily, his tone deep and sexy as he runs a hand up my leg under my skirts.
