Any Other Girl (12 page)

chapter 15

A
stream of humid air moved in on us overnight, and the next day turned out to be the hottest one yet. Harper and I spent most of the afternoon up to our necks in the lake, trying to keep cool. But after the almost-constant flow of warm weather we'd been having, the water temperature wasn't any more refreshing than the air.

“We should've tried to get summer jobs,” Harper said as we floated on our backs a few yards out from my dock.

“Jobs? Here?” I turned my head to look at her. She'd been acting weird all day. Subdued.

“Yeah. At the ice cream shop or something.”

I let my body sink until my feet touched rocks. “Harper, if a summer person took a job away from a local, there would be riots in the streets.”

“I guess you're right.” She twisted to the side and stood up straight. “I was just thinking about next year and college. All my friends back home are working right now, saving money. And here I am, relaxing at the lake like a lazy slob.”

“Like they wouldn't be lazy slobs at the lake if they had the opportunity?” I said, splashing her. “It's your last summer here, like, forever. You can work next year.”

“I know.” She brushed some water drops off her face. “It's just I think I've outgrown this place.”

I felt a twinge of hurt. Outgrown it? But Millard Lake was
ours
, the one place where time stood still, where we could reconnect and act like kids again. Spending the summer with her was something I looked forward to all year, this year more than ever. What happened to Operation Best Summer? Had it died along with the old Goody's and Nate's last shred of decency?

Harper saw the hurt in my features. “I didn't mean I've outgrown
you
, Kat. Just the lake.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don't know. Maybe I just feel that way because of what happened with Nate and Emmett. Being here doesn't feel as fun and carefree as I remember, that's all.”

“Wait, what happened with Emmett?” Just saying his name caused a rush of warmth to spread out from my stomach.

She snorted. “Nothing. That's the problem. He'll never see me as more than a friend.”

“You don't know that for sure, Harper.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, skimming her fingers along the water's surface. “I tried flirting with him after our run this morning and nothing. Zilch. Either I'm really bad at it or he's just not interested.”

“Your run?” Perhaps some lake water had seeped into my brain. Her words weren't making much sense.

“I've joined him on his morning runs a few times,” she said, shrugging her sunburned shoulders. “It's almost impossible to keep up with him, but what a workout.”

I wondered why I'd never heard about that. Obviously, Harper had a few secrets of her own. And Emmett hadn't mentioned it either. Then again, why would he? He was open with me, sure, but he didn't tell me everything.

“Anyway, I guess it makes sense that he's not into me. He's way out of my league.”

“Harper.” I hated it when she acted all self-deprecating and insecure, like she wasn't good enough for someone cute and decent like Emmett. Whenever she put herself down or doubted her awesomeness, I wanted to kick her dickhead father's ass. “That's not true.”

“Sure it is. He's smart and funny and gorgeous. He could have any girl he wants.”

Not any girl,
I thought, remembering our long, tense walk back to my cottage last night after I'd shot him down. Things had felt so weird between us, I wouldn't have been surprised if he avoided me for the rest of the summer. Maybe it would be better if he did.

“You're all those things, too.” Building her up was another responsibility I'd taken on over the years, though my success rate was spotty at best. Her parents' divorce had done too much damage.

“No, Kat,” she said, sunlight glinting off her Ray-Bans as she looked at me. “
You
are.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Did she suspect? Had Emmett told her? But no, her tone of voice was matter-of-fact, not angry. I was pretty sure she'd be angry if she knew how much I wished that I'd been the one to claim Emmett first.

 

That evening, Dad let me take his car to pick up some take-out at Goody's. He rarely let me drive the BMW so I made sure to take the long way, detouring down several streets in town before popping back out on the main road. The icy cold air conditioning felt nice.

Finally, I pulled into Goody's and parked in the deserted parking lot. Apparently, the renovations weren't doing much to pull in extra customers.

“Hey, Kat,” Sherry said when I walked in. She was sitting at the counter, playing with her phone and looking bored.

“Hi.” I leaned against the counter. “I'm here to pick up an order.”

She glanced behind her at the kitchen. “Right. It'll be ready in a minute.” Patting the stool beside her, she said, “Have a seat. Hot out there, isn't it?”

“Brutal.” I sat down and scanned the empty diner. Even the tablecloths looked dejected. “Sherry, why don't you bring the jukebox back at least?”

“Nah.” She waved her hand. “It wouldn't fit with the new décor. Besides, I sold it.”

“To who?”

To whom
, Pop corrected me in my head.

“Some guy from out of town who collects fifties memorabilia.”

I sighed. Perhaps Mr. Collector Guy could be persuaded to sell it back. The place was in desperate need of some livening up. Plus, it was the first summer I hadn't pressed B6 for “Yakety Yak” even once.

“It's probably the heat keeping people away,” Sherry said, nodding as if trying to convince herself as well as me. “Everyone's at home grilling hotdogs or eating ice cream for dinner.”

Feeling sorry for her, I smiled and lied. “Right.”

A bell dinged in the kitchen and Sherry jumped up. “Except for you and your dads, of course. Be right back with your food.”

The moment she left, the heavy wooden door swooshed open, letting in a blast of heat and Nate McCurdy.

Wonderful.
I swiveled in my stool and let out a loud sigh.

“Well, look who it is,” he said, feigning surprise. “Hurricane Katrina.”

I proceeded to ignore him, concentrating instead on the salt and pepper shakers in front of me on the counter. The stool next to me made a squeaking sound, and a moment later I caught a whiff of deodorant and boy sweat.

When he spoke, his voice was close in my ear. “I ran into Sawyer Bray yesterday. He said you punched him in the face the other night at the carnival.”

I turned to look at him. His expression seemed doubtful, like he didn't believe I had such violence in me. “I did.”

He smirked. “He also said that your father—the big, ripped one—showed up at the gas station while he was working and threatened him with bodily harm if he so much as looked at you again.”

“His name is Mark,” I said emphatically. “You know my fathers' names, Nate.”

“Whatever.” He tapped his fingers on the counter. “Zoe says Sawyer takes steroids and that's why he got so big so fast. But who knows . . . I always thought he was a douche.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Nate glowered at me and then leaned in closer, invading my personal space. “I know it was you who left that gay fork rainbow in my yard last night.”

I was still pissed at him, but I couldn't help but laugh at his words.
Gay fork rainbow
sounded like the name of an indie band or something. “I have no idea what you're talking about,” I said, blinking innocently at him.

“Bullshit,” he replied as Sherry came back with my bags of take-out.

“Nate!” she chirped, excited for another customer. “What can I get for you, honey?”

His scowl blossomed into a wide smile. “Just a milkshake. Vanilla.”

She handed over my food and I slid a few bills across the counter, telling her to keep the change.

“Sure thing,” she said, directing the comment to both of us.

When she scurried off to make the milkshake, Nate's smile became a scowl once again. “You made a bunch of holes in my grass, you know,” he said petulantly.

“Just think of it as free aeration.”

He didn't seem to appreciate my thoughtfulness. “My parents get home tonight and they'll want to know what happened. What am I supposed to tell them?”

I pretended to ponder that for a moment. “Hmm. How about, ‘Mom, Dad . . . I'm a dumb, insensitive homophobe who got what he deserved.'”

He glanced over at Sherry, who was pouring milk into a stainless steel cup. “I'm not a homophobe, Kat. I didn't mean what I said that night at the carnival, okay? I was just . . .”

“Just what? Showing off for Zoe?”

“I don't give a shit about Zoe.” He sighed and turned away, but not before I noticed the pink creeping up his cheeks.

“Why, then? Were you trying to get Harper's attention or something?” When he didn't respond, I let out a snort. “You think insulting her uncles and acting like an ass will make her hate you any less? Seems kind of counterproductive to me, Nate.”

“What can I say?” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. “I'm not all noble and sensitive like Emmett.”

I laughed. “So you're jealous because we like Emmett more than you? Oh my God.” I stood up and grabbed my bag of dinner, all set to walk away and leave him there. But I only got as far as the cash register before I paused, turned, and walked back over to him. “Look,” I said, my defenses lowering as I reminded myself of something I often overlooked. McTurdy had feelings too. “I'm sorry for ruining your lawn. I'll come over later and fill in the holes before your parents get home, okay?”

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “So it
was
you.”

I rolled my eyes impatiently. My food was getting cold.

“Don't worry about it,” he told me, smiling again as Sherry arrived with his milkshake in a to-go cup. “I'll just do what I always do when something gets messed up or broken.” He handed Sherry some change and slid off the stool, shooting me his smarmy grin over the lip of the cup. “Blame it on Keaton.”

chapter 16

“D
o me a favor, would you, Katrina?”

I glanced up from the toenail I was painting and looked over at Dad, who was wedged behind our ancient fridge with a screwdriver in hand. It had conked out the day before, spoiling about a hundred dollars' worth of groceries.

“Okay,” I said, expecting him to ask me to find the number of an experienced appliance technician. Dad was handy, but I still feared for his life when he messed around with electrical things. The fridge was unplugged, but still.

“Run over and ask Holly if she wants to come over for drinks tomorrow night. And her husband too, if he's around.”

My nail polish brush froze a few inches above my pinky toe. “Emmett's parents?” I said hesitantly.

“Yes.” His head popped out from behind the fridge. “Why? Do they not socialize together?”

No, they only scream at each other constantly and hey, guess what? He used to hit her, too.
“I don't know,” I said, going back to my nails.

“Well, can you go invite them? If I don't stay here and fix this, we'll be having peanut butter sandwiches again for dinner.”

“Can't you just call? My nails are wet.”

He pulled the fridge out another few inches, grunting with the effort. “I don't have their phone number. And it can wait until your nails dry.”

“Fine,” I muttered, capping the polish and clunking it on the kitchen table in front of me.

It wasn't that I didn't
want
to run the errand for my dad. I just didn't want to walk anywhere in the heat. Or see Emmett. Or invite his father over. Or possibly have Emmett
hear
me inviting his father over.
If only Harper was here,
I thought. She could go with me, maybe ease some of the tension. But she and her mom had gone to the walk-in clinic earlier to get Harper's ankle checked out by a doctor. She thought she might have twisted something during her last soccer game. Besides, she was still embarrassed by her post-run flirting fail with Emmett the other day and would probably refuse to join me anyway.

However, when I got to the Reeses' cottage a half hour or so later, I felt kind of grateful to be alone. World War Three was in full swing again, even louder than the first time I'd witnessed it. And on top of the yelling, it sounded like Mrs. Reese was crying. Now that I'd met her and seen how nice she was, how small and delicate, I wanted to run in there and shield her from potential harm, just like her son had done for me. Just like I tried to do in a different sort of way for my dads. But if Emmett—their own son—couldn't get them to stop, what made me think I could?

Just as I was about to head back to the road, I spotted a glimmer of movement near the shoreline beyond the cottage. I moved in that direction, my flip-flops crunching over the brown, parched lawn. When I reached the top of the steps leading to the dock, I could see Emmett crouched on the rocks near the water, pushing a piece of sandpaper over the surface of a worn-out canoe. For a moment I just stared at him, watching the muscles flex in his arm as he pressed hard against the boat, ridding the wood of its old, chipped paint.

“Emmett,” I called, but he didn't react. It was then I noticed his earbuds, secured into place and blocking out the world. I walked down the steps and approached him slowly, then touched his tanned shoulder with my fingertips. “Emmett.”

He jumped and whirled around, the square of sandpaper flying out of his hand. “Jesus, Kat,” he said, ripping out his earbuds. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Did you think I was a bear again?” I asked, smiling.

“No, I thought you were a spider. I freaking hate spiders.”

“Good to know.” I crouched down next to him and examined the weathered canoe. “What are you doing?”

He picked up the sandpaper, testing its roughness with his thumb. “The previous owners left this here. Thought I'd try to fix it up and see if it still floats.” He started sanding again. “I'm also hiding,” he added over the steady scraping noise.

“Yeah,” I said, glancing around for an extra piece of sandpaper and finding one on the rocks behind him. I started sanding a small splotch of paint near the bottom. “I can see why.”

Emmett paused and looked at me, sweat dripping down his temples. “Not to sound rude again, but what are you doing here?”

Keeping in mind the context of the situation, I tried not to take offense. Screaming parents had to be humiliating. “My dad wanted me to come over and invite your parents to our cottage tomorrow night. For drinks.”

“My father doesn't drink. That was one of my mom's conditions the last time she agreed to take his sorry ass back.” He turned back to the canoe, his mouth twisting derisively. “And as you may have noticed, he's not exactly the friendly-neighbor type.”

“Right,” I said, at a loss for anything more to say. Emmett seemed a bit off today. Snippy and short-tempered, like the first time we met. “Well, how about just your mom then? My dads think she's the greatest thing ever.”

“Glad someone does,” he mumbled, then went back to scouring the canoe. I joined him, and we worked in silence for a while until I got too overheated to continue. We were on day number three of an oppressive heat wave and it showed no signs of breaking anytime soon.

Feeling woozy, I moved over to the edge of the lake and splashed some water on my face. A minute later, I heard Emmett come up behind me.

“Let's cool off properly,” he said, and I turned to watch as he stepped up on the dock. Then, without further comment, he took a running leap into the lake.

Grinning, I climbed up on the dock, kicking off my flip-flops near the edge. Luckily I'd been swimming earlier and still had my bikini on underneath my sundress. I quickly pulled the thin fabric over my head and tossed it aside. Then, acutely aware of Emmett's eyes on me, I jumped feet-first into the water.

The lake was colder at this end, and deeper too. I flailed a little, panicking when I resurfaced and couldn't touch bottom. Ever since I was a toddler, bobbing around in the public pool with one of my dads during Parent-and-Tot swim class, I'd hated being in over my head.

“You okay?” Emmett asked, grabbing one of my hands to steady me. Since he was only doing it to save me from drowning, I didn't resist the contact.

“I'm fine,” I said, spitting out some lake water.

He let go of me and swam a few feet to the right. “It's not as deep over here.”

I followed him and was relieved when my feet touched rocks. “I
can
swim,” I told him, feeling embarrassed. “I just don't like deep water.”

He smiled for the first time since I'd arrived. “Damn. I thought you were faking so I'd have to save you.”

I glared at him. “No. And don't you dare make fun of me, Emmett. You're scared of spiders and they can't even kill you.”

“Some can.” He ran a hand through his hair, causing several wet strands to tumble across his forehead. I watched them fall, vaguely mesmerized.

“Um,” I said, forgetting what we'd just been discussing. “So I was talking to Harper the other day.”
Good job,
I told myself.
Redirect your focus to where it belongs.

“Don't you talk to her every day?”

“No. I mean, yes. I mean . . .” What the hell was wrong with me? I never got flustered around guys. “She mentioned what happened between you two a couple days ago. After your run,” I added when he gave me a blank look.

“Oh, you mean when she tried to kiss me?”

I started coughing, even though I was pretty sure I hadn't breathed in any water. “She tried to
kiss
you?
Harper
?”

“Yeah. When I dropped her off at her cottage after our run, she just stood there with this expectant look on her face, like she was waiting for me to do something. Then she sort of leaned into me like she was about to kiss me. I backed away and told her I had to go. It was really awkward.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “She didn't tell you?”

“Not about that part.” I suddenly felt irritated, but I wasn't sure if it was because Harper had kept this particular piece of information from me, or because she'd almost kissed him and I was jealous. In any case, that was
not
what I'd been expecting to hear. Harper didn't usually go around trying to kiss people.
Bold
and
impulsive
was more my territory than hers.

“She was probably too embarrassed to tell you,” Emmett said. “I still feel bad for shooting her down like that.”

No wonder she'd been so solemn the other day. Harper had a rough time coping with rejection.

“I'm sure she'll forgive you.”

“She also asked me if I was gay.” He grinned at me again. “Is that the general consensus around here?”

I shrugged. “Well, you did help me make a gay fork rainbow.”

He laughed and flung some water at me, but I ducked and splashed him back even harder, soaking his face and hair.

“Big mistake,” he said, lunging toward me.

I screamed and started swimming away, but he got hold of my ankle and pulled me back, forcing me to stand. Giggling, I pushed away from him and tried once again to escape. He caught up to me a second time, but instead of grabbing my ankle, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled until my back was flat against his chest. And then we were no longer laughing.

The water grew still all around us as we stood there, skin to skin. His chest rose and fell against my shoulder blades, and I could feel his quickened breath on the curve of my neck, warm and steady. In fact, I could feel
all
of him, and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to face forward, wrap my legs around his waist, and bury my fingers in his hair.

But I didn't, because I couldn't. Instead, I unlocked his hands from around my waist and swam away. When I got to the dock, I grabbed hold of the ladder and pulled myself up and out.

“Kat,” Emmett called from the water. He hadn't moved. “I'm sorry.”

Without looking at him, I nodded mutely, slipped my dress back on over my bikini, and shoved my feet into my flip-flops. “Ask your mom about tomorrow night,” I said before pounding up the steps and into the yard. I had to get out of there, fast, before I jumped back in that lake and kissed him senseless.

My walk back home was hot and confusing. I didn't know what would happen between us, or what, if anything, I would say to Harper. I didn't even know if I'd make it back to my cottage without dying from heatstroke. There was only one thing I knew for sure in that moment as I sprinted through the woods toward home. Emmett Reese was positively, without a doubt, one-hundred-percent
not
gay.

 

When I burst through the door of the cottage a few minutes later, Harper was sitting on the living room couch, her ankle wrapped in black tape.

“Why are you soaked?” she asked me at the exact same moment I said, “How's the ankle?”

She looked at her foot. “Fine. Not sprained. The doctor just told me to stay off it for a day or so and keep it wrapped in KT tape. Why are you all wet?”

“Oh.” I glanced down at myself like I hadn't even noticed. “I was swimming.”

Her forehead crinkled. “Uncle Mark said you went to invite Emmett's parents over for drinks.”

The glass door slid open and Dad came in carrying a roll of electrical tape. Behind him, I could see Pop and Aunt Carrie sitting on the deck, hiding from the sun under the giant patio umbrella.

“What happened to you?” Dad said, seeing me. “You've been gone for two hours. Did you invite them?”

“They weren't home,” I lied smoothly. “Emmett said he'd ask them and let me know later.”

Dad nodded and went back to the fridge, satisfied with my answer. My cousin, however, proceeded to study me so intently, I had to make up some lame excuse about needing a shower just so I could escape the weight of her gaze.

It didn't take two hours to extend a simple invitation, and we both knew it.