Any Other Girl (10 page)

“On?”

“Who'll be there.”

I rolled my eyes. “I'm not going anywhere near Sawyer. Tonight or ever again.”

“Good.” He took the blanket from me and tossed it in the tent. “That means I won't have to either.”

chapter 13

O
ur second visit to the carnival went by without a single Sawyer sighting. We did, however, bump into Nate McCurdy and his twin brothers at the target shooting booth. I think I'd rather have seen Sawyer.

“Well, well,” Nate said when he turned away from his fake rifle and saw the three of us waiting in line behind him. “Where have you guys been hiding all week?”

“Wherever you're not,” I said. I still hadn't forgiven him for how he'd treated my cousin.

“Cold.” He watched Harper as she stepped up to the spot he'd just vacated and wrapped her fingers around the rifle. Then she wiggled it back and forth like she was checking to see if it spun far enough on its base to point at Nate. Emptying a round of BB pellets into his forehead
did
sound satisfying.

Zoe and Gabriella appeared then, each of them carrying bright blue Sno-Cones. Zoe smirked first at Harper and then at my dress—a short, sleeveless, floral-print A-line. She then proceeded to drape herself over Nate, while Gabriella's eyes zeroed in on Emmett.

Fueled by her distaste for the audience behind her, Harper pretty much annihilated the little star target, winning herself a stuffed banana (wearing sunglasses, of course). She did even better than the twins, which was impressive because Nate and his brothers were all experienced deer hunters. Emmett seemed especially surprised by Harper's excellent aim, seeing as how he'd tried and failed to win her a prize at that very game two nights ago.

“Let's go on the Orbiter,” Zoe said when the twins finally got tired of shooting things.

“Do you want to come with us, Emmett?” Gabriella asked, tilting her head at him as she nibbled on her Sno-Cone. Classic flirt maneuver. I knew one when I saw it.

Emmett didn't move an inch from his position between Harper and me. “No, thanks.”

A tense silence followed, punctured only by screams and laughter and the barkers' amplified voices around us. Then Nate looked at me, his smarmy grin slithering into place. “One of your gay dads invited us to your barbecue tomorrow,” he said, wrapping his arm around Zoe's waist. “But I don't think I'm gonna go. Watching two dudes touch each other makes me want to hurl.”

God, he was such an ignorant jackass. Still, over the years I'd learned to ignore comments like that. Growing up, there was always at least one kid in my class whose parents wouldn't allow them at my house because they didn't want their impressionable child exposed to my dads' “lifestyle.” As if they were going to start randomly making out in the living room or something.

“Are you for real?” Emmett said, looking directly at Nate. “Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

Nate's smile slipped and he stared back at Emmett, his face reddening. “What's it to you, dude? So you're here like two weeks and suddenly you have me all figured out, huh?”

“You're not exactly complex.”

I glanced at Harper and saw that she was biting her lip in an attempt not to laugh. I did the same, but a snort slipped out by accident. Nate's strange need to boast about his straightness at the expense of my dads had obviously rubbed Emmett the wrong way. Calling him out in public was usually an effective way to shut him up, and I was surprised Emmett had caught on so quickly. Then again, those quiet observer types seemed to pick up on a lot of things others didn't.

“What, did I hit too close to home or something?” Nate said, trying to laugh off Emmett's insult. “Is this your way of telling me you have a crush on me? Sorry, man, I'm not into dicks.”

“Like I'd ever have a crush on you,” Emmett said, totally straight-faced. “My standards are much higher than that.”

Harper's eyes met mine and we broke up laughing. Fresh out of comebacks, Nate glared at each of us in turn, then grabbed Zoe's hand and started pulling her away. Gabriella and the twins followed, all looking slightly confused. Harper and I started laughing even harder, and we didn't stop until several minutes after they were gone.

“You,” Harper said, still giggling as she elbowed Emmett's ribs, “are badass.”

He shrugged, modestly pleased with himself. “I guess he definitely won't be at your barbecue now,” he told me.

“Good,” I said as we left the games area. “You'll come though, won't you? It's at four o'clock tomorrow. Bring your mom.”

“What about his dad?” Harper asked.

Emmett and I exchanged a quick look, the memory of the morning's secrets passing between us. Harper didn't know much about Emmett aside from he was cute and ran cross-country, and it wasn't my place to reveal anything more.

“He went back home for a few days,” Emmett explained. “For work.”

“Oh. Too bad. Kat's dads' barbecues are epic.”

“What's the occasion?”

I stepped over a crushed corn dog. “No occasion, really. More like a kick-off party. My dad—the one you haven't met yet—is on vacation from work this week and doesn't have to commute back to the city tomorrow.”

“What does he do?” Emmett asked. “For work, I mean.”

“He's vice president of an IT company, which means he works nonstop. So his vacations are sort of like celebratory events.”

The Tilt-a-Whirl came into view, its lights twinkling beckoningly. I gave Harper my puppy-dog eyes.

“Not a chance,” she said. When I added a pout, she said, “Remember the year I puked in the trash can in front of those local boys? They took
pictures
, Kat. I'm still traumatized.” She nodded toward Emmett. “Maybe Emmett will go on with you. He doesn't have an aversion to spinny rides.”

I transferred my puppy-dog eyes to Emmett.

He smiled and said, “Come on, then.”

While we waited in line, Harper took off in search of a vacant Porta-Potty. As usual, being around Emmett without her made me feel slightly guilty, like I shouldn't enjoy spending time alone with him as much as I did.

“Thanks for what you did back there,” I said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “With Nate.”

“Oh.” Emmett rocked back on his heels. “I couldn't resist. What he said was out of line.”

“He's like that. I can usually ignore him, but I'm way more used to his douchiness than you are.” I silently appraised him for a moment. “You know, I'm glad my hunch about you turned out to be right.”

“And what hunch is that?”

I smiled with all my teeth. “You've never struck me as someone who has a problem with gay marriage.”

“No,” he said, grinning back at me. “I only have a problem with my parents' marriage.”

When we reached the head of the line, we handed our tickets to the ride operator and I made a beeline for the nearest car. I had my seat belt all buckled before Emmett even climbed in. “It was nice seeing Nate so flustered,” I said, continuing our conversation. “I wish there was some way we could get back at him for all the crap he's pulled so far this summer.”

“Well,” Emmett said as he fastened his safety belt, “when my brother and I were little, there was this neighborhood kid who liked to torture us. So one day we . . . nah, never mind. Too risky.”

“What?” I hopped around in my seat like an overexcited toddler. I may have been a little hyper from the giant blob of cotton candy I'd consumed earlier. “Tell me, tell me.”

He laughed and placed his hand on my leg to keep me still. It worked, but only because his fingers felt distractingly warm against my bare skin. As if he could read my thoughts, he quickly removed his hand. “A prank,” he said, clearing his throat. “We played a prank on him. Something we saw on TV.”

The ride jerked into motion and I had to brace myself from sliding against him. “What kind of prank?”

When he told me, I laughed so hard I had to hold onto the safety bar to keep from falling out. Emmett joined in, and his laugh was the last thing I heard before we started spinning.

Like Harper had said, my dads' barbecue parties were epic. They held at least three of them during the summer, inviting all the neighbors to join us. Sometimes everyone showed up, and other times, only a few made it over.

This time, however,
no one
bothered to come.

By four o'clock, it was still just me, Harper, our three parents, and way too much food. My dads tried to pretend they didn't care, that we'd have just as much fun on our own, but I think we all felt disappointed about the nonexistent turnout.

At four-fifteen, the festive mood picked up when our first and only guests appeared. Emmett brought his mom, just as I'd suggested. Mrs. Reese looked young and adorable in a filmy white sundress with her blond hair hanging in a braid down her back, and both my dads were immediately besotted.

“It's so nice to meet you all,” she said, handing Pop the bottle of wine she'd brought over. “I was beginning to wonder if anyone around here was actually friendly.”

“Well, the locals aren't, usually,” Dad said, shaking her hand. “But we are.”

“I can see that,” she said, her cheeks coloring as she peered up at Dad. His effect on women was something Aunt Carrie razzed him about regularly. My dad was the very essence of
debonair
. “I can also see where Kat gets her beautiful green eyes.”

Dad draped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. “You've met my girl?”

Mrs. Reese nodded and smiled at me. Again, I wondered how someone so nice could be embroiled in such a volatile marriage.

Harper, who'd been hanging back with Emmett, tugged him forward into our group. “Uncle Mark, this is Emmett.” She beamed at him like she'd invented him herself.

“Nice to meet you, Emmett,” Dad said as they shook hands. “What do you think of Millard Lake so far?”

“I really like it,” Emmett said, glancing at me.

I could feel Harper's gaze on me as well, quietly assessing.

“When did you meet Emmett's mom?” she whispered to me after all the introductions had been made and our parents were sitting outside on the deck, drinking margaritas and getting along famously.

“Yesterday morning, when I went over to ask him if he wanted to go to the carnival with us again.” It was the truth, but I still felt weird about skipping the part where I'd sought out Emmett in the woods afterwards. Harper and I had always shared everything, so keeping secrets from her—even someone else's secrets—made me very uncomfortable. Apparently, even something as solid and dependable as our relationship wasn't immune to change this summer.

When it was time to eat, my dads sent Harper and me inside to gather plates and check on the status of the ice trays Dad had filled and thrown in the freezer earlier. Emmett followed us, his gaze moving over the interior of our cottage as if he was comparing it to his own. I knew for a fact that the Cantings' cottage did not have gross fuchsia carpeting and ugly wall paneling. The Cantings, even as old as they were, had updated the place to a respectable level.

“Wow,” Emmett said as he took in Pop's vast collection of kitchen appliances, all crammed together on the small counters. “Is your other dad a chef?”

“No, he's a writer,” I said, exchanging an amused glance with Harper. That was something I
had
told her about Emmett, that he was a fan of my dad's books but had no idea he'd already met the author. That particular secret was too much fun not to drag out for a while.

“What does he write?”

I opened the freezer and poked a finger into the ice trays. Solid. “Oh . . . fiction,” I said vaguely. I saw Harper's smile out of the corner of my eye.

“Like short stories or novels or what?”

“Novels . . .” Harper said with equal ambiguity. “He's really good. Maybe he'll let you read some of his stuff sometime.”

Thankfully my head was still stuck in the freezer, because I didn't have a good poker face like my cousin.

“Harper, sweetie,” Aunt Carrie called from the deck. “Run over to our cottage and see if we have any sour cream. Your uncles forgot to buy some.”

“Because you're the only one who likes it,” I heard Pop say.

Harper dropped the napkins she was holding and sighed. “Be right back,” she said on her way out the back door.

Stack of ice trays in hand, I shut the fridge door with my hip and then jumped when I discovered Emmett standing right beside me. “So that thing we talked about last night,” he said quietly. “The prank?”

“Yeah?” I was completely distracted by the ice cold trays in my arms and the clean sweat-and-sunscreen scent of him.

“I picked up the supplies this morning.” When he grinned, I was pretty sure one of my ice cubes actually melted. “When do you want to do it?”