Any Other Girl (17 page)

“You have company?” Mrs. Reese said, her voice louder as she approached the bedroom.

I had a fleeting urge to jump out the window, but she'd already seen Pop's car.

“Yeah,” Emmett said again as his mother appeared in the doorway, dressed in a pair of white capris and a pretty lavender blouse. She took in the no-longer-neat bed and our tousled hair and then raised her eyebrows. “Kat, do your parents know you're here?”

“Yes.” I knew my face was every bit as red as Emmett's was at the moment. It wasn't a lie, though. Pop did know I was there, but I hadn't told him about Emmett's parents' being gone because I didn't know anything about it until I got there.

“Well,” she said, her gaze back on Emmett, who was staring at the floor. “Next time, make sure there's a parent here before you come over, okay?”

I nodded rapidly, my embarrassment making it impossible for me to manage a verbal response. Mrs. Reese gave us another sharp once-over before backing away from the door, leaving us to die of shame in private. A few seconds later, I heard her and Emmett's father murmuring to each other in the kitchen.

“I should probably go,” I said, placing my dad's book back on the pile and standing up.

Emmett stood too, slowly, as if he wasn't quite sure his legs would hold him. “I'll, uh, walk you to the car.”

My skin flushed even hotter when I had to face his father, who acted like he'd never seen me before in his life, even though we'd already met. To my relief, he seemed more amused than angry about the situation, and Emmett and I made it outside basically unscathed.

The rain had all but stopped, leaving behind warm, muddy puddles that were almost impossible to navigate in the dark. By the time we reached the car, my feet were drenched.

“Sorry about that,” Emmett said when we stopped by the driver's side door.

I wasn't sure if he was sorry about the hooking up or that his parents had come home and caught us, so I just nodded again. I was a regular bobble head doll.

“I'll see you tomorrow?” he asked, his eyes searching mine.

He was worried, I realized, that I'd reject him. I might have, too, if I didn't like him so much. And if he wasn't such a damn good kisser.

“Sure,” I said, and his features relaxed. Apparently, I'd left my self-control—what little I still had—back in his bedroom somewhere.

“I think we should go out sometime this week. Just us.”

“What, like on an actual date?”

“Exactly. An actual date.”

I opened the car door and looked up at him through my lashes.
Say no
, I ordered myself. “Okay,” I said.

His smile was like a fist squeezing my heart. With one last quick kiss good night, he went back inside while I climbed into the Volvo and started it up. Once again, I hit the gas as I approached Harper's cottage. I'd planned to stop in there on my way back from Emmett's for a final good-bye, but there was no way I could do that after what had happened. Instead, I drove right past it, gripping the steering wheel until I was safe on the other side.

chapter 22

“H
olly called me last night,” Pop told me during breakfast on Tuesday morning.

“Oh?” I said through a mouthful of Multi-Grain Cheerios.

Pop took a long, fortifying sip of tea and I sensed what was coming next.

“She said she walked in on you and Emmett in his bedroom on Sunday night.”

My mushy mouthful of Cheerios seemed to turn into a gum-like substance, impossible to break down and swallow.

When I failed to respond, Pop continued. “She thought I should be . . .
made aware
of the situation.” He cleared his throat, and I noticed two red blotches forming on his cheeks. “I assured her that I'd discuss it with you.”

“It's not a big deal,” I said when I'd finally stopped chewing. “We weren't . . . you know. We were just kissing.” We'd done more than kiss, but adding further detail would probably send Pop into cardiac arrest.

“Even so,” he said, picking up his English muffin, “it's probably not a good idea for you to be over there—or over here, for that matter—without an adult present.” He brought the English muffin to his mouth and then, changing his mind, set it back down on the plate. “And when you do decide to
you know
, please make sure you're safe.”

I covered my face with my hands. It was too early for this. “I know, Pop. You and Dad have discussed this with me before. Many times.”

“You're never too old for a refresher.” The stern-parent business out of the way, he bit into his muffin. “I thought Harper was the one who liked Emmett.”

“She does.” I pushed my bowl away, no longer hungry. “We both do.”

Pop's eyes widened as the complexities of the situation sank in, but I didn't even care that he knew. It felt good to get it out. In fact, it felt so good, I kept going. “She doesn't know I like him. Or that he likes me. I'm afraid to tell her.”

He sighed. “Oh, Kat.”

My eyes began to sting. If Pop was disappointed in me, I could only imagine how Harper would react.

“You can't keep something like that from her, honey,” Pop said gently. “You know you have to tell her, right?”

I blinked a few times, forcing the tears back. “Yeah.”

“Who knows . . . maybe she'll be okay with it.” But his voice had a false ring to it. He knew as well as I did how delicate Harper's feelings could be. “How did all this . . . come about? You and Emmett?”

“I don't know. It just sort of happened. I didn't
mean
to start liking him.”

Pop grabbed his mug and stood up. For a moment I thought he was disgusted with me and had to get away, but he came over to me and kissed the top of my head. “Well, sometimes these things are out of our control.”

As he refilled his mug, I thought about everything he'd gone through to be with the person he loved. Dad had been “out” basically all his life, had never even dated a woman, but Pop had grown up in a different sort of environment, with people who would never accept him for who he was. For years, he'd denied his true self, even went through a slew of girlfriends during high school in an attempt to fit in. Then, when he met Dad in college and eventually came out, he said it was the first time he'd ever felt like
himself
. Happy. He'd been so sure of his feelings for Dad, he'd risked everything—even losing his own family—just to be with him.

My own issues paled in comparison to what he had endured, but I could understand the trepidation he must have felt, and how desperate he must have been for his family to accept his relationship with Dad and acknowledge how good they were together.

“You won't say anything, will you?” I asked Pop. “Even to Aunt Carrie?”

He sat down with his fresh cup of tea. “Of course not, Noodle. This is between you and your cousin.”

“Thanks.” I let out a breath. “So . . . am I grounded? For what happened on Sunday?”

His forehead wrinkled as he pondered my question. I could count on one hand the number of times I'd been grounded.

“No. I think the humiliation you undoubtedly suffered is punishment enough.”

I agreed. “Good, because I have plans tonight.”

He looked at me, a question in his eyes.

Now that some of the weight had slipped off my shoulders, my smile came easily. “I have a date. An actual one.”

 

Although Emmett and I had spent nearly every waking moment together since Sunday night, I was still excited to see him when he arrived at my cottage that evening. There was just something about getting dressed up and having a guy pick you up in his parents' car that felt
different
. All official-like.

For the past couple days, between swimming and canoeing and making out in various hidden spots in and around the lake, Emmett and I had been formulating a plan for our first date. After much debate, we'd settled on the old stand-by—dinner and a movie. The closest movie theater was in Everton, a forty-minute drive away, but neither of us minded getting out of Erwin for a few hours. Mrs. Reese, who'd apparently recovered from what she'd witnessed when she got home from her own movie date the other night, was nice enough to let Emmett use her car.

Once Pop had thoroughly interrogated Emmett about his driving record, the state of the car's gas tank, and my curfew, we were finally allowed to leave on our date.

“You look amazing,” Emmett said as we settled into his mom's Mazda.

“Thanks.” I adjusted the hem of my white sheath dress, which I'd chosen specifically because it showed off my tan.

“I feel a little underdressed,” he said, glancing down at his shorts and T-shirt.

He was a little
over
dressed, in my opinion, but I couldn't let my thoughts roam in that direction if we were going to make it through dinner and a two-hour movie.
Focus
.

Along with a movie theater, Everton also provided a decent selection of restaurants. No retro diners, unfortunately, but that was okay because we were both craving pizza. Luckily, we found a small Italian place right near the theater. Inside, a hostess led us to a cozy, private booth in the corner.

“So,” Emmett said once the waiter had disappeared with our order, “your dad was pretty intense back there.”

I rolled my eyes, remembering how Pop had quizzed him. “He's kind of overprotective when it comes to me. I'm surprised he didn't ask if you've ever run someone over.”

“That's more your department, isn't it?”

The sip of Coke I'd just taken almost ended up spewed all over the table. I covered my mouth with one hand and looked over at him, relieved to see that he was smirking. “I was wondering when you'd bring that up,” I said, removing my hand. “I didn't run you over, Emmett. I
almost
ran you over. There's a huge difference.”

“All I know is that one minute I was running through the woods and listening to the Foo Fighters, minding my own business, and the next thing I knew there was an ATV headed straight for me. It got my blood pumping, anyway.”

“You were a jerk, you know,” I said, giving him a light kick under the table. “I know I scared the hell out of you, but you didn't have to yell at me.”

His smile wilted and he fiddled with his napkin, folding the corners. “I felt bad about it afterwards. I was in a rotten mood that morning. My parents had been fighting since the moment we got to the lake and I just didn't want to be there. But that's no excuse for yelling at you. I try really hard not to be that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The guy who takes out his anger on other people. I've always been afraid of turning out like my father. The whole ‘learned behavior' thing. That's why I've never really had any serious girlfriends.”

I regretted even bringing it up, even though, technically, he had. “There's also the whole ‘break the cycle' thing,” I said. “It's your choice.”

“I know.”

He stared into the flame of the small candle that sat between us on the table. An awkward silence descended, and I searched my brain for something to say that might break it. Finally, I decided to go with the two things I did best—diversion, and appealing to a guy's ego. “If you've never had any serious girlfriends, how did you learn to be such a good kisser?”

That got him. He sat up straighter and smiled. “A girl doesn't have to be your girlfriend in order to kiss her,” he said, giving me a pointed look. “I've gone out with people before, but just casually. I guess I'm not the relationship type.”

“Really.” That made me wonder exactly how many non-serious non-girlfriends he'd been in a non-relationship with. Clearly I wasn't the first.

“Yes, really.” He slid his arms across the table, one on either side of the candle, and grasped my hands. “But I might make an exception for you.”

Fortunately, the pizza arrived then, saving me from a full-blown swoon. By the time the waiter had dropped everything off and left us to it, I had a handle on myself again.

“I'm a terrible girlfriend,” I said in a casual tone as we each reached for a slice.

Emmett paused to look at me. “How so?”

Words probably would've gotten my point across adequately enough, but just to be sure, I decided to demonstrate first. Under the table, I let my knee brush against his, then ran my foot along his calf. At the same time, above the table, I fixed him with my patented full-watt smile.

His pizza slice slid out of his hand and landed on the table.

“I have a problem with flirting,” I explained, taking my foot back. “Boyfriends hate that.”

He cleared his throat and rescued his pizza. “You flirt with other guys like
that
? When you have a boyfriend? Yeah, I can see why they'd hate it.”

“Well, no. That was an exaggeration. Usually I just smile a lot and get overly friendly.”

“I've never seen you flirt with anyone.”

I bit off some pizza and chewed, washing it down with a sip of Coke. “We're pretty isolated at Millard Lake. There's no one around to flirt
with
, other than you. And don't even think about mentioning Nate unless you want to see me regurgitate this pizza.”

“What about that guy you invited to your campfire a while back?”

I snorted. “Conner? Harper forced me to invite him. I don't even like him.”

Memories of that night came flooding back, the most prominent one being the kiss between Emmett and Harper by the lake. The one she'd never told me about. Suddenly, I felt like I had an ice cube lodged in my throat. I was out on a date with the guy she liked while she was hundreds of miles away with her asshole father, probably wishing she was back here with me. I wasn't sure which I felt guiltier about—that I was seeing Emmett behind her back, or that in the past two days, I'd barely even missed her. I was a selfish, horrible person.

“Anyway,” I continued, my appetite gone, “I've never been in a serious relationship either because guys always dump me for flirting with their friends. Hell, even my best friend quit speaking to me after I paid too much attention to her boyfriend one night. That's exactly why I was so afraid to—” I broke off and lowered my gaze to the table. My stomach churned. Maybe I
was
about to upchuck my pizza.

“Afraid to what?” Emmett said, gripping my hand again.

“Admit that I liked you when I knew Harper did, too.”

“Have you told her yet? About us?”

I shook my head. “I can't.”

He slid his hand away from mine. “Harper and I were never together. Nothing happened between us aside from that one awkward kiss. She knows I don't like her that way; I've never once led her on. Why would she care if we dated?”

“Because she likes you, Emmett. She rarely even notices guys, but she likes you.” I swallowed hard. “My best friend Shay? She was
furious
when she thought I was interested in her boyfriend. She still refuses to speak to me. With Harper, it would be ten times worse. For one, you and I have gone way beyond flirting. Two, she's my cousin. And dating the guy your cousin has a crush on is a shitty thing to do. What I'm doing right now would hurt her.”

Emmett leaned against the back of the booth, his pizza forgotten. “So, what? We're supposed to sneak around for the rest of the summer? Hide it from her? How's that any less hurtful?”

A burst of laughter from a nearby table filled the tense silence that followed, saving me from having to answer. Good thing, too, because I didn't have one.

“You have to tell her, Kat. Like, soon. Tonight.”

“She's visiting her dad,” I reminded him. “I can't tell her over the phone.”

Emmett continued to watch me, his gaze unwavering. He wasn't going to be satisfied with a just-friends status, or a secret relationship, or anything other than open, unflinching honesty. And I didn't blame him one bit.

“She gets home on Friday,” I said, feeling the pizza's acidic sauce at the back of my throat. “I'll tell her then. Okay? Just let me have until Friday.”

He nodded, accepting this, and then took hold of my hand again. We relaxed enough to demolish most of our dinner before heading to the movie, where we ate popcorn for dessert and pretended everything was perfect.