“Cause if you don’t get here soon,” her sister said, not listening to a word from Emma, “I’m gonna rent this room out. Where are you?”
“In a little town called Lake Holly. It’s near—”
Her sister buzzed it off. “And you can afford a week’s stay? But you tell me your account’s in the red. I’m not running a charity here.”
“It’s a little complicated. Someone was kind enough to give me a place to sleep.”
“So you’re not too good to crash on a cot in bumfuck corn country, but you demand a bed from me.”
Emma gulped and glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Instead of the polished and professional young woman, a worthless girl covered in pockmarks and acne scars stared back. She hated when she had to take off her makeup, often turning all the lights off and leaping into bed to avoid the mirror.
“I’ll be there soon, I promise. Please don’t give the room away.”
“All right,” her sister sighed. “But you better have a job by the time you get here.”
“I will,” Emma promised despite having no idea how. She was two days’ drive away with no way to get there for an interview. Any good restaurant would expect her to at least cook for them. Not that she deserved a good restaurant. It’d just be the same all over again. Men’s faces turning red while screaming obscenities, her shrinking deeper into her chef’s whites as she struggled to get everything to plate.
She didn’t even want to work on the line anymore, but her heart ached from knowing she wasn’t good enough to do it. Muttering her goodbyes, Emma ended the call and placed her phone in her bag. Her luggage was clumped up against the dresser, and she kept placing her purse on his trunk.
Another loud thud broke the night. Emma slipped to the window and glanced down at the silhouette raising an ax above his head. He didn’t say a word, swinging the blade down with another grunt. When the ax head stuck into the stump, Nick wrung a hand under his chin and up his cheek.
They were softer than they looked. She’d feared it’d be like a bottle brush scrubbing her face, but his scruff only left an invigorating flush to her cheeks. Emma jerked, realizing she’d been tapping her lip with her finger.
It was a mistake. She knew it the second the kiss ended. Well, not right after. Her mind was too busy floating on cotton candy clouds to realize how badly she’d messed up. But his reaction after… Forgetting she’d put it away, Emma picked up her phone. Her latest batch of requests for a room all waited to be answered. It was in her best interest, in everyone’s, if she left tomorrow.
Sweeping through the room, she gathered up her clothes. There wasn’t much—the pink turtleneck, the reindeer sweater. Her fluffy socks she wore while sleeping. After folding each up, Emma put them in her bag and zipped it shut.
With one last look for her things, her gaze landed on the pillows. She’d never slept so deeply in her life as she had cuddled around them. Maybe it was the size, far bigger than any she’d had back in Portland. Or it could be the density, worn and packed from years of use.It’s probably the scent of his body weaved into them.
She shivered at the tiny voice jumping straight to the worst option. How was she going to get through tomorrow and the day after? Pretending the kiss didn’t happen sounded easy, but if he caught her staring at him like a lovelorn school girl, she’d die on the spot.
A sharp gasp followed by wailing broke through the air. Emma touched her cheeks, fearing she’d broken down without realizing, but they were dry. Another round, then angsty cursing came from down the hall. She poked her head out of the door and, sure enough, heard Skylar screaming that her life was over. It wasn’t her place to get involved. They’d be rid of her soon enough.
Emma looked at her bag, remembering she left her toothbrush in the communal bathroom. A hard sharp gulp, like a girl at rock bottom sucking in air, plunged into her heart. Hustling across the cold hall, Emma came upon Skylar’s door and gently knocked.
“Go away!” the girl shrieked.
“It’s me,” she tried, prepared to scatter. To her surprise, the lock pulled back and Skylar stuck her head out. The poor girl’s normally bright eyes and cheeks were a mottled red. She swiped at her nose, then grabbed Emma’s hand.
“Get in here,” she said, tugging her inside and slamming the door.
The posters, the music, and the printed-out quotes were different, but a dagger of nostalgia plunged into Emma. She felt like she’d been dragged back into the soup of hormones that boiled the brains of every young teenager. Skylar slumped into her clamshell chair and slammed her laptop shut. Only a vague purple and blue light radiated from her bed, the rest of the room dark shadows. A woman screamed a heavy metal rage out of the speakers, dampening nearly every sound outside of the room.
“Are you…okay?” Emma asked, uncertain where to begin.
“He’s going home for Christmas!” Skylar wailed.
“Antonio?” She asked, though who else but a girl’s high school crush could obliterate her to dust?
“Abby just found out. He’s returning to Italy, and he’s not coming back! The god damn Bensons are getting a Brazilian exchange student for the next semester. It’s not fair!”
Ah. It was even worse than Emma feared. Instead of the unobtainable boy failing to notice the girl in love with him, he was going to be snatched from her by a twist of fate. It was the kind of drama that’d seem almost laughable in five or ten years, but in the moment was worse than death.
“Wh-wh-what do I do? He just learned my name and now he’s leaving?” In her state, poor Skylar looked as fragile as a china doll. Emma reached out and stroked her head. The girl leaned into it, needing a mother even though none could be found. Telling her it would pass wouldn’t help. It’d be as useful as telling someone with a foot in a bear trap to walk it off.
“Have you talked to him?” Emma asked.
Skylar jerked away and Emma pulled her hand back. With pursed lips, Skylar shook her head hard. “Not yet. I was gonna. I thought he’d see me in my dress at the dance and…” She sucked in her tears and glared at the floor. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
