The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels

by Christina Benjamin

  Emma

  Emma was halfway through the dance floor when she slipped. She went down hard, feeling a sharp pain in her knees as they made impact with the sticky floor. Could this night get any worse?

  Before she could answer that question, two hands reached down from the darkness to pull her to her feet. She steadied herself to thank the kind stranger, but of course it wasn’t a stranger at all. Will stood before her, looking as white knight as ever. He wore a white dress shirt, untucked and a thin gray tie. His dark hair was rumpled and his smile was heart-stopping.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m great,” she said as the room swayed. Emma felt herself sway with it until Will caught her again.

  “You don’t look great. I think you should sit down,” he said leading her from the dance floor to the nearest chairs.

  Will nabbed two bottles of water on their way as Emma limped behind him. He caught the hitch in her step and a look of concern passed over his face. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so,” she mumbled and Will helped her into a ridiculously modern chair that looked more like the letter S than a piece of furniture.

  “Why are you limping?” Will asked.

  “Hmm?” She’d already forgotten the question. It was hard to focus with the flashing lights and swaying room. She squinted at Will. Were there two of him? He pulled an identical S chair close and sat down in front of her. “Em, are you okay?”

  Emma giggled, watching Will try to settle all six-foot-three of him into the odd chair.

  “What’s so funny?” Will asked.

  “You look silly.”

  “Me? What about you? What happened to your dress?”

  Emma shrugged. “Martinis.”

  Will raised his eyebrows. “How many have you had?”

  “A few.”

  “As in a few too many?” Will asked.

  “Maybe,” Emma slurred.

  “How ‘bout you let me take you home?”

  “I don’t think Liz would like that.”

  “I don’t care what Liz likes,” Will replied. “I care about you, Em.”

  Emma’s heart jumped, but she pulled away from Will when he reached for her hand. Emma realized that they were sitting rather close together and she straightened up, crossing her legs as a barrier. The action sent a stab of pain through her knee and she winced.

  “Shit, Emma! You’re bleeding!”

  “What?”

  “Your leg,” Will said jumping into action. He left the chair behind and knelt next to her, gently touching her left leg just below her knee. “I think there’s a piece of glass in it.”

  “What!” Emma looked down and sure enough something other than blood shimmered from the slice in her skin. “Omigod, get it out! Get it out!”

  “Hold on.”

  Liz! Emma was going to kill her. None of this would be happening if she hadn’t pushed that cocktail waitress into Emma on the dance floor. No one had cleaned up the glass and now Emma was paying for it. She let a tiny sob escape. Why had she ever thought martinis were the answer?

  Will slipped her shoe off and poured some of his water bottle over the wound. Emma watched a stream of blood wash down her leg and a heat wave of nausea crashed over her. She started shaking. Emma hated blood. Ever since she was a little kid even the smallest drop of it would make her queasy.

  “Em, take a deep breath, you’re gonna be fine. It’s only a tiny cut.”

  Emma squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to pass out.

  She felt Will clasp her hand. “Em, you with me?”

  Emma swayed as her vision began to tunnel. “I hate blood,” she squeaked.

  “I remember.”

  “Make it stop,” she whispered. “Please make it stop, Will.”

  Will

  The pleading tone of Emma’s voice broke Will’s heart. This was much worse than a crying girl. This was Emma crying. His Emma. And listening to her begging him to make the pain stop was enough to make him want to lasso the moon. He knew she hated blood. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t already passed out at the sight of it.

  Once, she’d gotten a bloody nose on the playground while on the swings. She passed out, fell off and broke her arm. Will had never been more scared than he was when he watched the ambulance take Emma away. He was devastated he couldn’t go to the hospital with her, so he’d made Sharon take him there after school to see her.

  Will didn’t want a repeat of that adventure. He needed to distract her. “Em, do you remember the name of that squirrel we rescued in Central Park?” he asked.

  Emma hiccupped and nodded her head. “Scratchy.”

  “That’s right. How could I forget? Remember how mad your mother was when we brought him home?” Will grinned at Emma. “She was convinced I had rabies.”

  Emma smiled. “That’s cause the crazy thing bit you and scratched your face to pieces.”

  Will laughed. “Yeah, maybe putting him in a backpack while riding bikes to your place wasn’t the smartest idea.” He glanced up at Emma as he gently began working the glass from her leg. She was white as a sheet. Not good. He needed to keep her talking. “Do you remember what you told me after the great squirrel debacle?” Will asked.

  Emma only exhaled a tiny sob.

  Will kept talking. “You said you’d still be my friend, even if I had rabies and wasn’t pretty anymore.”

  Emma nodded, a tight smile on her face. “I remember.”

  “Ta da!” Will grinned up at her and held the tiny piece of glass he’d pulled from her leg triumphantly. “All done.”

  “Really?” Emma threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. “Thank you,” she whispered over and over again as hot tears streaked down her cheeks.

  Will held her tight, letting himself inhale the sweet scent of her pretty blonde hair and instantly all their problems melted away. God, he could hold her forever. Why were some things so easy between them, and others impossible?

  Will pulled Emma close, rubbing her back while she collected herself. He was glad he could help. He knew she’d always been embarrassed by her squeamishness, but it was just one more thing he adored about her. It made her seem more real. Most people didn’t get to the see the Emma that Will had fallen for.

  To the rest of the world, Emma was a cool, collected, Manhattan fashionista. She always looked flawless and rocked the confidence to match. Every girl wanted to be her and every boy wanted to be with her. But underneath her perfectly poised exterior, Will knew Emma was a sweet girl, with a kind heart, who loved animals, held his hand during scary movies and only felt weak at the sight of blood. And there was a part of him that loved that she needed him when she was scared. Because that was the true fear that had always made Will keep his feelings for Emma at bay. He knew that she didn’t need him. And he was terrified that one day she’d figure that out and he’d lose her forever. Although waiting too long to tell her how he felt had the same effect it seemed.

  Emma’s sobs trailed off to a quiet hiccup and she pulled away to glance down at her bloodstained leg. Her bottom lip began to wobble and Will took her face in both his hands. “Don’t look, okay? I’m gonna clean it up and then we’re going home.”

  “I can’t go home,” Emma protested. “Not like this. My father . . . and Tara . . .” Emma groaned. “I got in a fight with her. I said some really awful things.”

  “Okay, we’ll go to my house and let things calm down. You can smooth things over tomorrow, okay?”

  Emma nodded.

  “Now close your eyes.”

  She did and Will worked quickly. He poured the rest of his water bottle over the thin cut on Emma’s leg. It wasn’t deep but it continued to bleed. He slipped his tie off and used it as a makeshift bandage, tying it gently around her leg. “There,” he said proudly inspecting his work. “All done. Let’s go.” He stood up and offered Emma his hand. She took it, but teetered like a fawn with one high heel still on.

  Will tried not to smile at her ad
orableness. Instead, he grabbed her abandoned shoe and scooped her into his arms. “I’ve got ya, Cinderella.”

  “Don’t call me that. I hate fairytales.”

  Will smirked. “I know. But I always like the way they end,” he said planting a kiss on her forehead.

  Emma groaned and buried her face into his neck, which only made Will smile wider. Maybe today hadn’t turned out so bad after all. He had his princess in his arms and was carrying her home, where she belonged.

  18

  Emma

  Will carried Emma to his waiting limo. The driver frowned at the sight of her but silently handed Will a blanket and bucket, presumable for her to puke in. And he hadn’t been wrong. Emma felt queasy the whole ride home, but she refused to be ‘that girl’. Girls that puke in limos never get the guy.

  Once Will helped Emma in the car, he slid into the seat next to her and patted his lap for her to lay her head. It might have seemed like an intimate gesture if they hadn’t grown up doing it. Emma used to fall asleep with her head in Will’s lap gazing up at the sky, dreaming up fashion designs while he edited footage for his next film. Sometimes they’d talk for hours and others they’d sit in silence, just enjoying each other’s company. Emma was an only child and Will might as well have been. His brothers were so much older. They were in college before he even started high school.

  For a while, Will and Emma had been each other’s worlds. Secret keepers, dream chasers and shoulders to cry on. That’s what he was offering now. And the torn part of Emma’s heart was too tired to resist. But as she lay with her head in Will’s lap and he slowly stroked her hair, she couldn’t help resenting that he was here for her now, but not when she’d truly needed him. Where was he last year when her parents’ divorce had turned ugly? Where was he when they asked her to choose? New York or Boston? Mother over Father? Sleeping with Liz Vanderveer, that’s where.

  Emma let that knowledge settle over her. She didn’t think she would ever get over it. But it’d been a year. It was stupid to think Will wouldn’t have moved on after Emma left. Besides, they’d never officially been anything more than friends. Liz had seen to that. But just because Will hadn’t turned into Emma’s happily ever after, didn’t mean they still couldn’t be friends. If anything, tonight proved that Will was still a great guy. He’d rescued her from mortal embarrassment at Cranston’s and was making sure she got home safely.

  She needed to find a way to let last year go so she could start being Will’s friend again. Because truthfully, losing him as a friend had been almost harder than losing the possibility of more. Besides, how could Emma miss something she’d never had?

  Will

  Will smirked as he stood in his building’s elevator with Emma. “Mistletoe seems to keep finding us.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “I think you keep looking for it.”

  Will nudged her with his shoulder. “We can’t deny it forever. It’s bad Christmas juju.”

  “Fine,” Emma said, taking Will by surprise.

  She turned to face him and a lump formed in his throat. Was Emma really going to kiss him? Shit. He hadn’t thought this through. He didn’t want their first kiss to be in an elevator while she was drunk and covered in martinis and blood!

  But Emma didn’t kiss him. Instead, she raised her hand over her head and glared at the mistletoe. “Here’s your holiday high-five. Now leave us alone bad Christmas juju.”

  Will smiled and met her hand with a solid smack. It made her sway on her feet and he quickly caught her from going down. The elevator doors dinged open and he led her out. “Okay, let’s get you home,” he said, scooping her up in his arms again.

  Emma

  It was strange being inside Will’s new apartment. It was the same, yet different. Decorated in pale grays and blues, the place still had the same sterile feel as their old apartment. Perhaps that was the reason Emma and Will always chose to hang out at her house when they were younger.

  “So this is the new place?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “It’s nice,” she commented. “Big.”

  Will shrugged. “More like empty. But that means you have five bedrooms to choose from.”

  “Seriously? Five?” Emma huffed. “My father couldn’t even manage a guest room for me.”

  “Yeah, that’s completely foul, Em. But you’re more than welcome to stay here next time you’re in town.”

  “I don’t think there’s gonna be a next time.”

  “Why not?”

  “This whole trip has been a disaster. My father hasn’t spent any time with me. All he cares about is Tara and his stupid new family. He doesn’t want me anymore.”

  Will pulled her into a hug. “Only an idiot wouldn’t want you, Emma.”

  She looked up into his deep blue eyes and felt it—that thread of love that had always been there between them. The tether that made her want more, made her want to forgive him for anything. It was thin and frayed, but it was still there and it gave her hope. “Thank you for tonight, Will. For being there.”

  Will tucked her hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger for a moment too long. “I’m always gonna be there for you, Em.”

  The way he was looking at her made Emma burn. Will’s eyes sparkled with intensity as his thumb brushed her cheek. And that’s when it happened. Emma’s stomach lurched. She’d been fighting the angry storm of alcohol the whole car ride home. And now, in Will’s warm embrace, she was losing the battle. The martinis had worked themselves into a frenzy—they wanted out, and they wanted out now.

  Emma pushed Will away violently, her eyes darting frantically around the room. Bathroom! Where was the bathroom? She wasn’t going to make it. Emma raced to the first option she found and emptied her stomach into the pot of a poor unsuspecting ficus tree.

  So it turned out Emma was ‘that girl’ after all. Maybe not the girl who puked in the limo, but she had a sneaking suspicion the girl who puked in potted plants was just as doomed in the romance department. Not to mention that she spent the rest of the night on Will’s bathroom floor praying to the porcelain gods.

  The last thing Emma remembered was pressing her cheek to the cold tile floor as she balled herself up in a fetal position trying to wish the past few days away. She prayed that this was all just a bad dream—that she would wake up in her bed in Boston and shiver away the Christmas break-turned nightmare. But the cataclysmic headache and twitch of her empty stomach told Emma this was real. And no amount of wishing or hoping would take the ache from her heart. Her family was broken for good, and she and Will were hanging on by a thread.

  As Emma drifted to sleep, she prayed for a Christmas miracle. Because that was her only hope of turning this holiday around.

  Will

  Will went to check on Emma again. He hadn’t wanted to leave her side, but she’d begged him to give her some privacy between fits of heaving into his toilet. He felt awful for her. Being that kind of sick was the worst. It only happened to Will a handful of times before he learned his alcohol tolerance. Plus, he was an athlete and had an obligation to his team.

  Will played lacrosse at St. James Academy, mostly because he was a Taylor and the sport was practically a mandate in his family. But he actually didn’t mind. It wasn’t his passion, but Will was dedicated enough to the team to keep himself in fighting shape. And that meant hangover free. Which wasn’t always easy to do when hanging out with Cranston’s crowd.

  Luckily, Will’s brothers had handed down their secrets of lessening the dreaded post binge-fest hangover. Will had already checked the kitchen to make sure he had all the supplies necessary to make the famous Taylor boys cure-all. Then he’d grabbed a bottle of Pedialyte and two aspirin and headed to his bathroom.

  He gently knocked on the door, and when Emma didn’t reply, Will pushed it open slightly, revealing Emma asleep on his bathroom floor, her cheek mashed uncomfortably against the white tile. His heart ached for her. She was going through some tough things with her family and he
wished there was more he could do. But for the moment, getting her somewhere more comfortable was all he could offer.

  Will knelt next to Emma and stroked her hair. “Em, do you want to come to bed?”

  She murmured something incoherent and shook her head without opening her eyes.

  “Emma. You can’t sleep on my bathroom floor. Come on. Let me take you to bed.”

  “No,” she groaned. “Floor good. Moving bad.”

  Will smirked. How was she this cute even when she was sloppy drunk? He shook his head at himself realizing nothing had changed. He was still in love with Emma and would do anything for her—including rescue her from her own stubbornness.

  Starting tomorrow, he was going to find a way to help her turn her holiday around. But first things first—he scooped her up and carried her to his bed, propping her up on a bunch of pillows even though she groaned and protested the entire time.

  “Just let me sleep, Will.”

  He opened the Pedialyte and put a straw in it. “Drink this and then you can go to sleep.”

  She reluctantly took the drink. When she was halfway done he gave her the aspirin. She gulped the pills down and finished the drink, handing it back to him. “Can I please sleep now?”

  Will nodded, tucking her in. He turned off the lamp and kissed her head. “Night, Em.”

  “Will?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’m sorry about last year. I really wish we had worked out.”

  Will froze. How long had he waited to hear those words? He stared at Emma, but her eyes had already fluttered closed. He watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing as he tried to calm his emotions. But he found he didn’t want to stifle the hope swelling in his chest or the racing of his heart. Emma was the only one who’d ever made him feel that way and it had been so long since he’d let himself even wish for a glimmer of a chance with her. But here she was in his bed, telling him they’d wanted the same thing all along.