That was all he needed to know. He would fight for her. He would let go of last year and all the drama that went with it. If he could focus on the present, focus on Emma, he knew they could get back to the place they had been before everything fell apart. And this time they would work. They had to. Second chances like this didn’t come around for no reason.
Will settled himself on the cold leather couch in his room. He knew it was crazy to hope that he and Emma could finally be together. Especially now that she lived in Boston and college was only a few months away. But as Will gazed at Emma’s porcelain skin, illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering in from his windows, he realized it would be even crazier not to try.
19
Emma
Emma woke to a blinding headache. She blinked the world into focus and took in her strange surroundings. She didn’t know where she was and the realization made her panic. She sat up quickly. Big mistake. The headache threatened to pull her under as black spots danced in her vision. Emma moved slowly, sliding her legs out from under the covers. The first thing she saw was a gray tie, secured just under her knee. Then the whole humiliating night came crashing back with laser clarity.
She groaned clutching her head. Why was it, the awful and embarrassing times were always so good at implanting themselves in her permanent memory? Emma was certain there was no way she’d forget making a fool of herself at Cranston’s party or at Will’s apartment. God, he’d seen her puke last night. And picked glass out of her leg! Emma glanced down at the tie. It was stained with a tiny spot of deep red. And even though the blood was dry, it still made Emma feel queasy.
She stood up and made her way to the bathroom to wash her face. She nearly screamed when she saw herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were mascara streaked and her hair looked like she’d been through a tornado. She quickly tied up her hair and scrubbed her face clean. It was an improvement, but it did little to make her feel better. Disgrace wasn’t something you could wash away. It didn’t help that she was still wearing her martini-stained dress from the party either. She could just imagine her father’s expression when she did the walk of shame home wearing a ruined party dress. And there was no way he wasn’t waiting to berate her for the way she’d spoken to Tara. Way to go, Emma!
Sighing, Emma retreated from her reflection to search for Will. She owed him an apology and a giant thank you for taking care of her. As she walked through his room, seeing it clearly for the first time, something caught her eye. The top of his dresser was covered with lacrosse trophies and family photographs. But it was the frame front and center that drew her attention.
Emma picked up the delicate silver frame and let the photograph transport her back to a time when she’d been truly happy. She was sitting with Will under a tree in Central Park. They’d just been to Dylan’s Candy Bar and their spoils surrounded them, laid out carefully on Will’s school blazer. It was fall, and big orange and yellow maple leaves swirled around them. Will had just thrown an armful of them into the air and Emma was holding a candy apple in one hand, reaching for the leaves with the other. They both must have been laughing wildly, because Emma had never seen herself look so happy. Her fingers caressed the edge of the frame as sorrow filled her heart. When had she lost it—that happy, carefree love of life?
“That’s my favorite too.”
Emma started at the sound of Will’s voice. She turned to him, clutching the photo to her chest. “How did you take this?” she asked.
“I had my tripod set up that day. It’s a still from the film I shot.”
She looked back at the photo, tracing her finger over the strangers in it. “I miss this,” she said.
“Me too.”
Emma looked at Will. He was staring at her with that smoldering look of his. She hadn’t seen him look at her that way in a very long time. God, what had she said to him last night? An admission of her feelings tickled her memory, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on whether she’d merely thought it or said it out loud. She swallowed hard, shoving her feelings down as she started to put the frame back.
“Keep it,” Will said stopping her.
“No, I couldn’t. It’s yours.”
“I’ll print another. I want you to have it.”
Emma pulled the frame back to her chest and smiled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
An awkward silence stretched between them. Oh, God. She’d said it out loud hadn’t she? Emma resorted to her only plan for such embarrassment—complete and utter avoidance.
“So,” she started. “I’d better get out of your hair and let you start your day.”
“There’s no rush,” Will said sitting down on his bed. “How ya feeling?”
Emma sunk down next to him. “I’ve felt better.”
“I’ll bet.” Will huffed a laugh. “Oh, here.” He handed Emma the cup he’d carried into the room. “This will help.”
Emma took it, glaring warily at the thick green liquid. She sniffed it and cringed. “Ugh, what is this?”
“Taylor family recipe. Cures any hangover.”
“How, by death? It smells awful. There’s no way I’m drinking this.”
“I promise it works, and it’s better than feeling like death all day.”
Emma couldn’t deny that.
“Drink it, take a shower and you’ll feel human again.” Will smiled that charming smile of his and Emma was nodding her head before she knew why.
“How’s the leg?”
Emma shrugged. “It doesn’t really hurt. But I haven’t mustered the courage to take the bandage off.”
“Well it just so happens Dr. Will is on duty,” he teased, pulling Emma’s leg onto his lap. “Let’s have a look.”
She shivered as his warm hands gently steadied her leg and he worked the bandage free. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against her quarreling emotions. Emma’s stomach roiled with squeamishness, while her heart raced at Will’s touch.
“Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?”
Emma’s eyes popped open and she stared down at the sluggish green contents of the cup she clutched tightly. It wasn’t doing anything to help her queasy stomach. “Good news?” she squeaked.
“You’re gonna live. The bad news is the tie wasn’t so lucky. I think he’s a goner.”
“I’m sorry, Will.”
“I’m just teasing you. I don’t care about a stupid tie. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He set her leg down and stood. “Just put a Band-Aid on when you get out of the shower. They’re under the sink. Towels and everything else you need should be in the linen closet. Feel free to borrow some clothes too. I’ll make us some breakfast, while you get cleaned up,” he said turning to head out of the room.
“Will?”
He stopped and faced her. “Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything. For last night . . . and this,” she said raising the glass of green sludge.
“Of course.”
Emma shook her head. “I mean it. I know you didn’t plan to spend your night playing ER doctor to my drunk ass. But I really appreciate it.”
“I meant what I said, Emma. I’m always gonna be here for you. You’ll see.”
Something about the way he said it made hope bubble up in her throat. Will seemed different today. There was a spark of confidence in him she hadn’t seen in a while. And she liked it.
“Now don’t fall in the shower or I’ll be forced to come to your rescue again,” he teased, giving her a wolfish grin as he winked and left the room, leaving Emma to ponder Will in endless shower scenarios that made her blush.
Will
Will was practically whistling when he walked into the kitchen, only to be met by Sharon’s disappointed gaze. She stood with her arms crossed over her tidy gray and white house staff uniform. “William, do you have something to tell me?”
William? This wasn’t good. Sharon only used his full name when he was in big trouble.
“Why yes. Y
ou look lovely today, Sharon.”
“What happened to the tree, Will?”
“What tree?”
“Lord help me. I don’t have time for games, hun. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice a missing tree?” she asked pointing to the empty spot where the ficus had once stood.
“Oh, that tree. It’s the weirdest thing. The tree must’ve been sick. It threw up last night. I’ve never seen a tree do that before, so I figured it wasn’t a good sign and I got it out of the house before it infected the other plants.”
“William Michael Taylor, I’m not playing. Your mother’s not going to be pleased when she finds out you killed her ficus. You know how much she loves her stupid plants.”
Will snorted because it was true. His mother probably talked to her damn plants more than she did to him. That is, when she bothered to be home. “She’d have to be here to notice it was missing, Sharon.”
“Will.” Sharon walked around the counter and put a hand on his shoulder. “What’s going on with you, hun? Talk to me.”
Will sighed. He should’ve known better than to think he could get away with it. Sharon was like a bloodhound. He knew she wouldn’t quit until she dragged the truth out of him, so he figured he’d just fess up and save himself some time.
He walked over to the hall closet and pulled the tree out. It was still in the large trash bag he’d slid under the pot last night. It looked sad with the bag tied to its gnarled trunk.
“I brought a girl home last night and she threw up in the ficus. I was gonna go get a new tree today before anyone noticed.”
Sharon was staring at the tree with mild amusement. “Seven bathrooms in this apartment and your girl throws up in a plant? You sure know how to pick ‘em, hun.”
Will was grinning now, too. “Yeah, probably not Emma’s finest moment.”
Sharon’s jaw dropped. “It was Emma?” Will watched as she morphed from motherly to giddy schoolgirl in a blink of an eye. “As in your Emma?” Sharon asked. “She’s in New York?”
Will blushed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah, but can you keep it down? She’s still here.”
Sharon lowered her voice, losing some of her giddiness. “She spent the night?”
“Not like that. She just needed a place to crash.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing yet.”
Sharon clapped her hands together practically bouncing on her toes.
Will sighed. “Sharon, we’re just friends.”
She barked a laugh. “And reindeer can fly!”
“Sharon, please don’t . . .”
“Will, this is the chance you’ve been waiting for. I know you’ve always wanted to be more than friends with that girl. She’s the one for you. You know it. I know it. Now it’s time you make sure Emma knows it.”
“Christ, Sharon. Can you please be cool about this? This is the first time we’ve talked in a year. I can’t just blurt out, I love you.”
“Why not?”
“This isn’t one of the romantic comedies you make me watch. It doesn’t work like that in real life.”
“William—”
“Sharon, please let me handle this.”
“Fine, fine.” Sharon made the sign of the cross over her heart. “I’ll be cool. But don’t screw this up. I don’t want to see you devastated again like you were when she moved.”
“Me either.”
Sharon patted his cheek. “You don’t always get second chances in life, hun. Don’t take that for granted.”
“I’m not. I was about to cook her breakfast.”
“In my kitchen?” Sharon’s hands were on her hips. “Do you want this girl to fall in love with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe you should let me do the cooking.”
“I can cook,” Will replied indignantly.
“Since when?”
Will huffed. “I think I can manage bacon and eggs.”
Sharon didn’t look as though she shared Will’s confidence. But after a silent standoff, she sighed and went to the fridge to take out a packet of bacon and the carton of eggs.
“Sharon, I can do it.” Will protested. “Stop hovering.”
“I don’t hover. I’m not one of those chopper parents.”
“It’s helicopter parent,” Will said grinning.
Sharon always tried to keep up with what she thought was current teen lingo, even though most of the time it made her sound ridiculous. But it only made Will love her even more, because at least she cared enough to try, which was more than he could say for his parents. Sharon’s warmth and sunny personality was an eternal brightness in Will’s life, and he honestly didn’t know what he would do without her. It was because of Sharon that he had a moral compass at all.
Will kissed the top of Sharon’s head. “I know you’re not hovering. But I want to do this for Emma. It won’t mean as much if you cook her breakfast. I’m trying to show her I care.”
Sharon squeezed Will’s hand, smiling. “You are turning into a fine man, William.”
“I learned from the best.”
20
Emma
Will was right—that slimy green drink was magical. Emma felt a million times better after slurping it down and taking a hot shower. She towel dried her hair and threw it into a messy bun, then went in search of something to wear. Will’s lacrosse hoodie caught her eye. It hung on the back of his door. Her heart twisted a bit as she walked over to it and pulled it down. Holding the soft cotton filled her with familiar longing.
For years Emma had yearned to be the girl who got to wear Will’s jersey. She knew it was ridiculous. She didn’t need to be branded with his number to feel confident in their relationship. But when she’d seen the other players’ girlfriends wearing them, she couldn’t stave off the sudden pang of jealousy. It was one of the first times she knew she truly wanted to be Will’s.
Emma ran her fingers over the hoodie. It wasn’t his lacrosse jersey, but it was pretty damn close. She slipped the large gray hoodie over her head. It was warm and soft, falling to her mid thighs. She let her towel drop beneath it, feeling a bit ridiculous at the thrill that rushed through her. Get a grip, Emma. It’s just a hoodie.
She pulled open Will’s top drawer and stared at rows of neatly folded boxers and socks. Her cheeks burned. This was not how she imagined seeing Will’s underwear for the first time. She grabbed a pair and slipped them on before she lost her nerve. She had to roll them at her narrow waist to get them to stay up, virtually making them disappear under the oversized hoodie. Great, she looked like she wasn’t wear anything at all under the bulky sweatshirt. But pawing through more of Will’s drawers for a better option didn’t appeal to her. This already felt like an invasion of his privacy. God, why couldn’t just one of Will’s five siblings have been a girl so she could be borrowing her clothes right now?
Emma grabbed a pair of warm wool socks and pulled them on. They went almost to her knees, stopping just short of the Band-Aid on her left leg. She averted her eyes from the innocent looking bandage. There was no sign of blood, but just looking at the Band-Aid made her remember the gory scene the broken martini glasses had caused last night. Emma shuddered. She’d be happy if she never saw a martini ever again. She couldn’t believe she’d been stupid enough to let Marcy convince her drinking and dancing could solve all her problems.
Grumbling, Emma mentally revised her blog post again.
A Haute Chic’s Holiday Survival Guide
Martinis are mercurial.
Dancing is a dangerous distraction.
Sometimes white knights deserve a second chance.
A once over in the mirror made Emma frown. Baggy hoodie, tall socks and shower hair—not her best look. But did it really matter? Will was just being a good friend; nothing more. And Emma had promised herself that she’d try to find a way to be his friend too. She at least owed him that after everything he’d done to help her last night. She took a deep breath and wal
ked out of his room.
Emma followed the smell of bacon and coffee to the kitchen, her empty stomach rumbling. The sight of Will, washed golden in the warm morning sunlight, made her stop in her tracks. He was flipping pieces of bacon in a pan, holding a mug of coffee in his other hand. The scene was so domestic it hurt her heart. On one hand it was everything she ever wanted with Will. Cozy mornings together, cooking breakfast and talking over coffee. On the other, it was everything she’d had with her family, and lost.
Will
Will looked up and saw Emma staring at him. He was tempted to pinch himself, but a pop of hot bacon grease did the trick for him. If it hadn’t been for the sting of reality he might have thought he was dreaming. Because there was Emma, standing in his kitchen wearing his lacrosse hoodie—looking sexy as hell. She might as well have stepped right out of one Will’s fantasies.
He couldn’t find words. He just stood their gaping at her, while she smiled. Another pop of grease stung his arm and he hissed.
“Need some help?” Emma asked sidling up next to him at the stove.
“Oh, uh sure. Do you want some coffee?”
“I’d love some.”
Will turned away from the stove to pour her a mug of coffee. He took a deep breath trying to collect himself. He hadn’t expected Emma to be wearing that when she came out of his room. Never before had he thought of his large gray sweatshirt as sexy. But the way Emma was wearing it certainly was. And it threw him off his game.
When he returned to the stove with her coffee Emma was stirring the eggs. “One coffee, no cream, three sugars.”
Emma grinned taking the cup and nudging him playfully in the shoulder. “You remember how I like my coffee?”
“I remember everything about you,” he replied, nudging her back.
They stood side-by-side at the stove, Emma stirring the eggs, while Will flipped the bacon. He watched Emma out of the corner of his eye. Each time her soft lips touched her coffee mug, he wanted to kiss her. And each time her elbow grazed his, he wanted to take her in his arms and hoist her onto the counter so she could wrap her legs around him and never let go.
The Boyfriend Series Box Set (Books 1-6): YA Contemporary Romance Novels Page 68
