Page 3 of Only for Love
CHAPTER TWO
Junior Year…
Emma
Irish twins. The thing about sharing classes with my older brother is that we confuse people. Ryan is eleven months older than me. Most assume we are fraternal twins, since we don’t lookat allthe same. His hair is dark blond. Mine’s more gold. His eyes are hazel; mine are brown. He’s a little preppy, a little trendy, which is a good combination on him. But I’m all over the place: maxi dress one day, a jeans-and-shirt combo that’s more tomboy than casual the next.
Tonight, it’s torn-at-the-knees jeans and a screen-print tee with a pixelated, monochrome design I’d made in photography class. All around me, music thumps. Some of the guys from our class are getting trashed. Some of the girls are, too. But mostly, it’s just a typical party.
Courtney and Melanie are in the corner, evil-eyeing me, but I catch them, and they glance away. There’s a good chance they’re in deep discussion about revoking my BFF card. Fine by me. I just want to leave, and that’s why I’m getting their dirty looks. I’m distracted by one Grayson Ford, hottest guy in the room, and my platonic best guy friend. Yay…
He’s got a cheerleader following him around, and he isn’t ignoring her. Yay, again.
“Hey.” Hands clap to my shoulders and spin me around. Courtney’s glaring at me. “Would you just go over there already?”
I can’t even play dumb. “Nah. What’s the point?”
Melanie sidles up. “Yeah, what’s the point? Except you two are like star-crossed lovers or something—crazy in love and doing nothing about it.”
Crazy love. I’ve grown up with the perfect example of that. Andthatis notanythingthat I have with Gray. Well, at least it’s not mutual because, whether I admit to it or not, I love him and have since I can remember.
Courtney throws her head back, laughing. “First comes love—” Melanie joins in with their rhyme, and in sync, they finish up, “Then comes babies in a baby carriage.”
They break into squeals about our future imaginary children. God. But I’m not even going to have this discussion. Pointing to my ear, I mouth, “What? Never…”
My parentsarecrazy in love and, apparently back in the day, humped like rabbits. Totally disgusting, except for kind of cute, which is why there were three of us kids in very short order. Cherry is about a year older than Ryan, and she’s the wild child.
Our folks stopped after me, probably because three kids three and under would be enough to send anyone to an asylum. Mom’s sanity was likely saved from the loony bin by tying her tubes—which incidentally was the only time our parents would ever, even in passing, touch on the birds and the bees talk. Win-win for all. I like being the baby of the family, our parents are sane, and no one had to sit around for an awkward conversation.
But why I’m thinking about families and babies while staring at Grayson out of the corner of my eye is… pathetic. He’s Ryan’s best bro and a semi-permanent fixture around our house. Grayson is just Grayson, and even if I’ve imagined him looking at me the way I do him, it’s just not a possibility.
So I’m glad he and Ryan are tight. I’m even happier that I can at least call him my close friend, too. I focus on our long standing friendship. It’s been the only way I can justify the homicidal tendencies that provoke my inner ninja warrior chick every single time I see some bippy-boppy, cliquey bitch succeed in capturing his attention.
“Seriously, Emma. You need to chill out or head home.” Courtney hip-bumps me.
“Can’t.” I turn to her, shaking my head. I’ve masochistically offered to make sure both Ryan and Grayson have a sober ride at the end of the night. And by sober ride, I mean me.
“Right. Well, don’t look now, but here comes a certain somebody.” Melanie giggles into her red plastic cup. “See ya.”
Courtney squeaks. “Eek, see ya!”
They both take off in the absolute most obvious way possible.Shit, shoot, shit. Deciding that my thoughts are too transparent, I head for the front door. Some fresh air will fix me up since I’m pretty much the only sober person here.
“Emma?” Grayson calls from behind me.
I pretend like I don’t hear and push through the crowd for the door. I’m almost outside when I hear Ryan calling after me, too. He’s laughing, and once I’m on the front yard, I turn around to see my brother heading out the door with his arm thrown around a girl I pretty much hate. “Let’s go to Whities before we drop them home.”
Them? Oh, no. I didn’t sign up to chauffeur around Ryan and that girl making out all over the back seat while trying to ignore Grayson, who’s looking ten kinds of amazing. And… no way am I heading for a burger run. Just not gonna happen.
The door to the house opens again, and out walks Grayson. My mind freezes then spirals to an immediate love-struck-heartbroken twist when I see Gray withanother herwhom I dislike. Immensely.
She’s clinging to his broad chest and giggling as they make their way down the front porch. I hate this, how I feel, how I react. There’s always that distant, maybe-one-day kind of hope that this weird vibe is actually not a made-up daydream. But if that’s the case, why would he torture me?
“Ems.” He shoves away from his clinger. “We leaving?”
At least that shove gives me some very small level of satisfaction, even though she just moves back in again.
“Hey.” I jingle my keys then turn to Ryan. “Yes. But we’re not going to Whities.”
