Any Other Girl (16 page)

I let out a long, shaky breath and buried my forehead in the space between his shoulder and neck. He smelled like lake water and sunscreen and
him
, and I never wanted to leave this spot. I still didn't know what we were doing, or what would happen, or where we'd go from there, but those worries seemed trivial now.

Right then, in that moment, I wasn't sorry either.

chapter 21

H
arper may have been sensitive and more than a little hot-headed, but she was also quick to apologize. When my dads and I showed up at her cottage for dinner that evening, she immediately pulled me into her bedroom and shut the door.

“I'm sorry,” she said, hugging me.

I hugged her back, trying not to think about the fact that a mere five hours before, I'd been wrapped in the arms of the boy she still liked but pretended not to. My stomach rocked with guilt as I stepped out of her embrace. “I'm sorry, too.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Kat.”

I bit my lip, which still felt slightly swollen from all the kissing. Emmett and I had stood in that garage for at least twenty minutes, completely absorbed in each other until the sound of a door closing echoed across the yard, breaking the spell. I'd almost forgotten that Pop was home. Luckily he hadn't seen us when he emerged into the sunshine to write on the deck.

Silently, I watched as Harper flopped back on her bed and twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger. “I was just upset about my dad bailing on me again. I shouldn't have taken it out on you.”

“It's okay,” I said, slumping down next to her on the ratty quilted comforter.

Harper's room looked much like mine—jars of rocks on the worn dresser, clothes flung everywhere, walls hung with posters that had been there since we were preteens. But while my wall art consisted of old actresses and the occasional modern-age celebrity, hers was all about soccer. The only poster that even came close to my tastes was the one above the bed: a shirtless David Beckham resting a soccer ball against his thigh.

“He wants to fly me home next week,” Harper said.

Still preoccupied with Beckham's abs, I was momentarily confused. “Who?”

She laughed and nudged my foot with hers. “Dad. Supposedly he felt bad for canceling on the rock-climbing plan, so he wants me to stay with him for a few days and meet his new girlfriend. He met her at work. She's a nurse, apparently.”

I nodded. Lawrence was a clinical pharmacist and it wasn't the first time he'd dated one of his hospital coworkers. At least he was no longer doing it while married.

“You're not going, are you.” I said, phrasing the question like a statement. I hated how she accepted every measly little crumb of her father's attention, even when it was obviously a ploy to make himself seem like a doting father for whatever woman he happened to be seeing. “Harper,” I said when she failed to respond. “This is our last summer together. Remember?”

She stopped playing with her hair and crossed her arms. “I know, but it's not like I'd be gone for weeks. It's just five days. I'd leave Monday morning and be back on Friday. What's the worst that could happen . . . I'd miss the two-for-one sundae special at Goody's?”

I felt that now-familiar twinge of hurt in my chest again, reminding me that things were still different this summer, even before our fight. However, this hurt was supplemented by a large dose of panic. How was I supposed to avoid being alone with Emmett if my trusty sidekick deserted me for five days?

The words
I kissed Emmett
had been on an almost constant loop in my brain since the moment I laid eyes on my cousin. Saying it out loud would be scary, yet freeing. If he'd been any other boy, I wouldn't have thought twice about describing our steamy make out session in detail. But he wasn't any other boy, and I knew Harper. Even though she was a year older than me, she'd always looked up to me. Depended on me. Trusted me to be one of the few people in her life who would never let her down.

So I knew, only moments after the kiss had ended, that it could never happen again. Once was a mistake, impulsive, a heat-of-the-moment decision. Harper might even forgive me for it if I ever felt brave enough to confess. But letting it happen again would be a deliberate betrayal in her eyes, and I already had one close friend in my life who hated me for overstepping boundaries. With Harper, the fallout would be even worse. She was my family.

“Will you be mad if I go?” she asked me.

I looked over at her hopeful, pleading face and felt myself soften. “No,” I said, smiling. “It's just five days, right? We still have the rest of summer.”

She scooted over and rested her head on my shoulder. “You're awesome, you know that? Even when you don't agree with my decisions, you still support me no matter what.”

“Of course,” I said, hoping I could say the same for her.

The next day, I called Emmett to let him know I planned to drop over later, after dinner, to discuss something important with him. Confused, he agreed.

At seven, I climbed into Pop's Volvo. It had been raining heavily all day, making the roads and woods paths slippery with mud. I knew if I attempted the ten-minute walk, I'd be soaked and filthy by the time I got there. As I drove, I thought about what I wanted to say to Emmett. I knew I couldn't just dodge him for the rest of the summer without some kind of explanation. He deserved to know why we couldn't be together in the way we obviously both wanted to be. He deserved to know where we stood.

I sped up as I approached Harper's cottage, even though I knew she was occupied, packing for her trip home tomorrow, and wouldn't see me pass by. The thought of her leaving still filled me with anxiety. I worried that without her around, distracting me and acting as a chaperone of sorts, I'd lose the focus of my willpower. Self-discipline wasn't exactly one of my strong points.

“Hey,” Emmett said when he opened the door to my knock. “Come on in.”

I stepped into the entryway and glanced around. I hadn't been in the cottage since the Cantings owned it. It looked different. All the doilies and knick-knacks had been cleared out, the ugly rugs disposed of to reveal the shiny hardwood underneath, and the gaudy flower-patterned couch and chair had been replaced with plush, neutral-colored ones. Mrs. Reese had good taste.

“Where's your mom?” I asked, not meeting his eyes. I could sense his gaze on me, drinking in every stretch of my exposed skin. Suddenly, I wished I'd worn sweatpants and a hoodie instead of a short skirt and cleavage-baring top.

“She and my dad went to Everton to see a movie.”

“Really?” I said, as if the idea of his argumentative parents doing something normal and couple-y like going to a movie was just so astonishing. I had a flash of them screaming at each other over popcorn.

“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair and I tried not to think about how soft it had felt between my fingers. “They've been getting along pretty well lately.”

“That's good.” I took another look around the empty cottage and said, “Hey, why don't we go for a walk?”

Emmett peered behind me at the driveway, which was currently about two inches underwater. “Um, it's pouring.”

“Oh,” I said, like I hadn't noticed. “Right.”

Dammit
. I'd been counting on at least his mother being home. Mrs. Reese was almost always around, working on something. She had a home-based business making gorgeous, homemade candles, which she sold through her online Etsy store.

“Is this a problem?” Emmett asked when I didn't budge from my spot by the door. “My parents being gone, I mean. Will your dads freak out or something?”

It
was
a problem, but not because of my dads. They trusted my judgment in these kinds of situations. Unfortunately, I wasn't sure
I
did. “It's fine,” I said. “I'm just here to talk anyway.”

Emmett seemed baffled again, and I couldn't really blame him. I was acting weird.

“Well, at least let me be polite and give you a tour first,” he said, confusion dissolving into a smile.

“Is that just an excuse to get me into your bedroom?” I asked, smiling back. God, what was it with me and boys? When it came to flirting, I couldn't seem to help myself. It was like a sickness.

Emmett's response didn't exactly help matters either. He rubbed the back of his neck and gave me this shy, oops-you-caught-me grin.
Harper was right,
I thought.
He
is
adorable.

The layout of this cottage almost exactly matched ours—living room and kitchen overlooking the lake, bedrooms and bathroom along the opposite side. The square footage seemed a bit larger, but that could have been an illusion due to the light paint and warm lighting.

“I stole one of your light bulbs before you moved in, you know,” I told him when the tour reached the kitchen.

He looked at me, eyebrows lifted, and I explained about the cranky blond lady who had swiped the range hood bulb for me.

“Sneaky,” he said, going over to the stove and flicking the light switch on the hood. Nothing happened. “Maybe I'll steal it back the next time I come over.”

If there is a next time
, I thought as he moved away from the stove, toward me. As he passed, he held out his hand like he expected me to take it. Only I didn't. In fact, I immediately stepped back as if his touch might harm me. He paused to give me a long, searching look before continuing on to the hallway. Wordlessly, I followed him to his room.

The first thing I noticed was that he had obviously cleaned up in anticipation of my visit. Bed neatly made, surfaces dust-free, floor cleared of the usual bedroom clutter. It was possible that he was regularly this tidy, but I'd seen the jumbled disorder of his tent a few weeks ago, and his mother didn't come across as the type to clean up after him. If I had to guess, I'd say he lived like a typical teenage boy and had possibly shoved any mess into his closet before I arrived.

The second thing I noticed was that his room didn't seem like
his
. Harper and I and even my dads liked to bring things from home to make our summer space more personal and familiar. But the only thing in the room that appeared to belong solely to Emmett was the pile of books on the nightstand, one of which—oddly enough—was Pop's. Book Five of the Core Earth series. Other than that, his room had more of a guest room feel. I wondered what his room at home looked like.

Still feeling Emmett's probing gaze on me, I crossed the room and stood in front of the window, which faced the woods. I focused on the wet, swaying branches, trying to regulate my breathing and relax. But it was hard to relax when I was standing in his room with the scent of him everywhere and Emmett himself stationed just a few feet away, watching me. For a moment, I had to remind myself of the reason I was there in the first place.

“Emmett,” I said, my back to him as I stared out the window. “We have to talk about what happened yesterday in the garage. I don't think—”

The floor squeaked and the next thing I knew he was behind me, his hands on my waist and his forehead resting against the back of my head. When he spoke, his warm breath fluttered against my hair. “Don't ask me to be just friends with you, Kat. It's not happening.”

I shut my eyes and swallowed. “Why not?”

“Because”—his hands slid from my waist down to my hips and then back up again—“every time I see you, all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you.”

The movement felt almost reverent, like he was memorizing my curves, worshipping them. My heart raced in my chest just like it had that day in the lake when he'd pressed me up against his body in much the same way. That time, I'd managed to summon up enough self-control to swim away and leave him behind. This time, however, I'd already experienced what it felt like to kiss him, and I knew exactly what I'd be missing if I walked away. So, when his hands found my hips again and squeezed, gently urging me around, I chose to stay.

I wasn't thinking about Harper, or my resolve to never do this again, or anything else outside of the moment. Every cell in my body was tuned in to Emmett as we kissed in front of his rain-smudged window, arms locked around each other. Soon we moved to his bed, where he sank down on top of me, making me suddenly grateful that I'd chosen to wear the short skirt after all. So much for just talking.

The kissing continued until the distinct sound of the front door opening filtered into the bedroom, causing Emmett to jolt away from me like I'd kicked him. “Crap,” he said as we both scrambled into sitting positions. “They're home already.”

I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand and stifled a gasp. Nine-thirty. Had we really made out for two hours?

“Emmett?” his mom called from the other room.

“Yeah?” he replied while yanking his shirt back over his head. He tossed me mine and I did the same, making sure it wasn't inside out or backwards. Then I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and impulsively grabbed one of his books, which of course turned out to be my dad's. I pretended to skim through it, not really paying attention to the words inside. The last thing I wanted after making out with a guy was to be reminded of my father.