Bragan Boys (Bragan University Boxset)

by Gianna Gabriela

  EMMA

  We spend a few more minutes talking about football, my dad, and how Zack and I met. Everything seems normal, except it isn’t. Zack hasn’t said a word. I finally decide to look at him, but he seems to be lost in thought. I can only imagine the questions running through his mind—questions I could’ve avoided altogether if I hadn’t come.

  When the meal is done, I help Mrs. Hayes gather the dishes and walk them to the kitchen. “Zack seems a little distracted,” she says, voicing my thoughts.

  “I noticed too,” I tell her. What I don’t want to tell her is that I’m the reason for the lost look in his eyes.

  She brushes it off as she clears the dishes of any remaining food. “Thank you so much for being here. He seems really happy with you.”

  Mrs. Hayes’ words bring a smile to my face. “I’m happy with him too.” I know I’m just feeding into her belief that Zack and I are dating, but I can’t help it.

  I start running the water to wash the plates. “Oh no, you don’t have to do that, sweetheart,” Mrs. Hayes says.

  “I want to.”

  “While Stephen would like to take credit for the meal, the truth is I did most of the cooking, so he gets to do dishes.”

  I smile at the way her eyes light up when she talks about her husband. “I didn’t do anything to help for dinner either, but you’ve opened your home to me. The least I can do is help.”

  “You’re always welcome here,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. The gesture is so motherly that I find myself missing my own. Tears start running down my cheek unexpectedly. I wipe at them, embarrassed at my inability to keep my emotions at bay. “It’s okay,” she says, stopping me from wiping away tears that just keep falling.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry,” I apologize, hating how weak I feel.

  “What’s going on, honey?”

  So many things are happening; I don’t even know where to begin. “I just… You’ve been so lovely and welcoming. I’m sorry I’m crying. I promise I’m not usually like this.”

  “Sometimes we hold on to our emotions for so long that they attack us from out of nowhere. I’ve shed a few tears of my own. It’s okay to cry.” She embraces me and I try to gather as much strength as I can from her hug. I wish my mom would hug me like this, talk to me like this. I wish my parents treated me the way Zack’s parents treat him. I so desperately wish things in my family were different.

  Zack walks into the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”

  Mrs. Hayes doesn’t let me go, telling him, “Yeah, son. All good here.”

  I hear footsteps and assume he’s left, but when I look up, I find him looking at me over his mother’s shoulder.

  “You’re crying,” he says, his hazel eyes scanning me, trying to figure out why.

  “Zack, why don’t you and Emma go up to your room? Your dad and I will do the dishes.”

  Zack nods and his mother squeezes me more tightly before letting go. “Whatever it is, it’ll work out in the end.” Her words are spoken with so much certainty that I start to believe them too.

  “Thank you for a lovely dinner. And—and I’m sorry for the tears.”

  I walk out of the kitchen and head to his room. Relief spreads through me the moment his hand touches my back, guiding me.

  When he shuts the door behind us, I brace myself for what’s to come. I wait for him to tell me how mad he is that I’ve kept this from him, but when he doesn’t say anything, I decide to start.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  I smile weakly. “Everything?”

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?” I realize his need to know how I’m doing outweighs his desire to know why I kept things from him.

  “I’m okay. It’s just your parents are amazing.”

  “That’s why you’re crying?”

  “Your mom tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and it reminded me of my mom.” I sit down on the bed when I feel my knees weaken. I close my eyes, only opening them back up when I feel certain I won’t cry again.

  He walks toward the bed but changes directions at the last second and sits on his desk chair instead. “You miss her?”

  I nod. “I don’t see her often, but even when I do, it’s not like this. My relationship with my parents is nonexistent. Seeing yours makes me jealous.” I trace a pattern absently on the comforter, lost in my thoughts. And then I say the words that I’ve been too afraid to say out loud. “Then again, I am to blame for the problems between my mom and dad.”

  29

  ZACK

  “That’s not true.” How could she think that? “Emma?” I wait until she looks at me. “That’s not true.”

  She shakes her head, not believing my words. “I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about my dad.”

  “You did tell me about him,” I say, my words unintentionally clipped. I just feel as if she blindsided me. I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a different emotion: betrayal, although I know it’s misplaced. I bared my soul to Emma, yet all she did was hide things from me.

  She nods. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who he was.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because,” she says standing up from the bed. “he’s the football coach.”

  “And?” That’s not a good enough reason to keep it from me.

  She walks around my room, her back to me. “And the moment you heard his name come out of my mouth, you pulled away.” She turns to face me. “Imagine if I’d told you earlier?”

  “I pulled away from you because I was surprised,” I reason, straightening up in my chair.

  “It’s not like I go around telling random people about my dad.” Ouch. “The only person who knows my dad is the coach, aside from the administration, is Zoe and that’s because she’s my best friend,” she finishes. I guess I’m not the only one she’s kept in the dark.

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I ask. The reason it bothers me isn’t because her dad is my coach, it’s because even though we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, I thought she trusted me. I thought I was more than just a guy she was tutoring.

  “Being the coach’s kid is not really a dream come true. Everyone expects you to act a certain way, to be a certain person. They treat me differently, like I’m someone they need to placate. Add that to the fact that my father pretends I don’t exist until he needs something from me…” Her hands ball into tight fists. “And that’s the reason I didn’t say anything.”

  “I wouldn’t have treated you differently.”

  She gives me a skeptical look. “Really? You’re telling me if in that initial email he had said ‘my daughter will be tutoring you’ you would’ve been the same guy? You would’ve responded to me like you did? Talked to me? Invited me to your house for Christmas?”

  I think about her words. The truth they hold bothers me more than it should. I wouldn’t have been the same. I wouldn’t have pressed her buttons. There would’ve been no prying questions, no dinner in her dorm room in the middle of the night. I certainly wouldn’t have invited her over to spend time with my family. We wouldn’t be here. There are so many lines I wouldn’t have crossed.

  “You know I’m right,” she says, daring me to contradict her.

  I nod. “You are.”

  “You would’ve treated me differently?” she says in a whisper. The disappointed look in her eyes tells me that even though she expected me to agree with her, a part of her didn’t want me to.

  “I would have.”

  She sits back down, resigned. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know.”

  “Were you ever planning on telling me?”

  She looks at me for a few moments before answering. “When you told me about your parents, how you were raised, the girl that broke your heart…” I’m about to interject but stop myself. “I wanted to share that part of my life with you. But I knew it’d all be different if you knew who he was to me, so I kept it to myself.” />
  I run my fingers through my hair. “Why now?”

  “Because your parents are kind, loving and sweet. I didn’t want to lie to their faces. It’s not the way I wanted it all to come out, trust me.”

  “Why should I trust you?” I ask—a question I’m asking myself too. I barely know her, yet I’ve decided to share so much with her only to find that she was intentionally withholding things from me. Why should I trust her with more?

  “You have no reason to trust me. We barely know each other, but then again, here we are.” Her words are simple and yet so true. I understand what she means without her having to say anything else.

  “You should’ve told me.”

  “I didn’t want to tutor you. I didn’t want to spend any time with a football player, not after growing up with my dad. I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I have.”

  Wow, this conversation has just taken an unexpected turn. All thoughts of her father go out the window.

  “You enjoy spending time with me?” I ask, fixating on her final words.

  She shrugs. “Tutoring you was supposed to be a punishment from my dad, but I like it more than I should.”

  I get up from my chair and crouch down in front of her. “Why shouldn’t you enjoy being with me?” I hope her next words deter me from acting on my impulses.

  “Because… Because you’re a football player. I’m not your type. You’re not my type. This is going to end the moment you take your exam, and I know the more time I spend with you, the more I’ll feel your absence once you’re gone.”

  EMMA

  The moment the admission leaves my mouth, I hold my head in my hands, questioning why I brought this up in the first place. How is it possible that this guy has gotten me to open up to him so quickly?

  He lifts my chin, urging me to look at him. I shake my head. I’m not ready to face him—to face this.

  “Please,” he says, his voice strained. I obey, looking up to find him watching me.

  “You’re not my type,” he says. I nod, feeling my heart breaking. “I’m not your type either and we were forced together by your father.” It’s crazy how hearing the words coming from his lips hurts even more.

  “I know.” I try to avoid his eyes once again, but he doesn’t let me.

  “So maybe this is one of the few things he got right?” he says, cracking a smile.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It means no one was my type because I wasn’t looking for anyone. It means if it hadn’t been for your father forcing you to tutor me, I never would’ve had a conversation with you. I never would’ve gotten to know you.”

  We did have a conversation before, he just doesn’t remember. “Doesn’t the fact that we wouldn’t have talked to each other if it wasn’t for tutoring mean something?”

  “It means I’ve gotta thank my biology professor for failing me and giving me the opportunity to get to know you,” he says with a full-on smile.

  “It won’t end well.”

  He frames my face in his hands. “Who says it has to end? You feel this and I won’t deny I feel it too. Why not just let it be?”

  I look at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

  He strokes my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. “Let’s not label it. Let’s not think about whether it’ll end. Let’s just take it one day at a time and see where it goes.”

  Do I want to stop myself from letting something start for fear that it’ll end?

  “See where it goes?”

  He drops his hands to my knees, shuffling closer. “I’m proposing we do what we feel and not think about anything else.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that.” I like definitions and lines. I like knowing where I’m going. I can’t just adopt a ‘go with it’ attitude. It’s not who I am.

  “What do you want?” he asks, biting his bottom lip.

  I feel like my answer to this question is pivotal. If I want space, I know he’ll give it to me. If I want to stop, I know he’ll agree… But if I want more, it seems he’s willing to give me that too.

  Before I have a chance to answer, his lips are on mine. His kiss is soft and sweet—a small taste of what could become addicting if I let it.

  When he pulls away, I find myself moving toward him, seeking more.

  “You can’t deny the attraction we’re both feeling.”

  He’s right. I can’t, but the logical side of me rears its head. “It might not work.”

  “But what if it does?”

  What if it does? I shut off my brain and let my heart do the thinking for me. I bring both of my hands to his face and pull him closer. When I kiss him, it’s not slow, soft or sweet. It’s all-consuming. Reckless. Without regard for what’ll happen next.

  Though I know there might be no future in this, I’ll be damned if I don’t take advantage of every second until it’s over.

  Because Zack’s right: what if it does work?

  30

  ZACK

  I wake up with a smile because Emma is snuggled up against me. Emma, the girl I finally got to kiss last night. We finally gave in to those desires, igniting a flame that had long been smoldering. It could change everything between us, but I don’t regret a damn thing.

  “What are you doing?” Her sleepy voice cuts through the silence of the room and the loudness of my thoughts. I don’t respond. “I know you’re awake,” she says and I laugh.

  “How did you know?”

  “I noticed the change in your breathing when you woke up.”

  “So that means that you’ve been up for a while?” I question. If she has been, and didn’t pull away from me, then it might mean she wants this as much as I do.

  She nods and turns to face me.

  “How do you feel?” I ask, desperate to hear her say she’s okay—that we’re good.

  She bites her bottom lip and slowly closes the distance between us, pressing her mouth to mine. When she pulls away, she whispers, “Good.”

  I smile. “Great.”

  Before either one of us can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. “It’s movie time!” my mom exclaims excitedly. I sigh. I’m not ready for this moment to end.

  “Don’t pretend you’re sleeping! I know the two of you are awake.”

  “Are you listening to our conversation, Mom?” I ask.

  “You wish! I was walking by. The walls are thin, you know.” I know my mom’s joking, but from the look in Emma’s eyes, she thinks my parents overheard everything.

  “She’s kidding,” I tell her. “Watch.” Raising my voice, I yell, “That’s not true! Otherwise, I would’ve heard a lot from your end.”

  My mother laughs. “That’s right. Thank goodness for the thick walls. But seriously, get up! It’s time to watch The Sound of Music!”

  “We’re getting up, Mom. Just give us a sec.”

  “Fine! No funny business.”

  “We handled that last night.”

  My mom laughs once again. “You’re going to scare Emma away with your jokes.”

  My eyes are fixed on Emma when I call back, “I think she likes me this way.”

  “We’ll see you guys downstairs,” Mom says, retreating.

  Emma sits up and glares at me. “What?” I ask.

  “Why’d you tell your mom we handled everything last night? You know she’s going to think we had sex.”

  “She knows I was joking. Mom and I joke about everything.”

  “So you two just joke about you sleeping with other girls?” she asks and while her tone is trying to convey casualness, I can see in the way her eyes avoid my own, my response matters.

  I tell her the truth. “Actually, this is the first time we’ve joked about me sleeping with someone.”

  “Really?”

  I steal a quick kiss. “Really.”

  EMMA

  Apparently, Christmas mornings at Zack’s house means everyone heads downstairs in pajamas. Zack went ahead and used his parents’ bathroom, and I used t
he one just outside his room to freshen up.

  “Are you ready?” he asks the moment I walk back into the bedroom.

  “I’ll meet you downstairs,” I tell him. “I have to look for something.”

  He pauses for a beat. “Okay,” he says. As soon as he walks out of the room, I beeline toward my bag, pulling out the gifts I got yesterday and placing each of them into a gift bag. Putting them back into my book bag, I take it with me downstairs.

  “Look who’s finally decided to join us,” Zack says the moment I step off the stairs.

  I shake my head at him. “I didn’t take that long.”

  “No, you didn’t. Ignore him,” his mom says, and I laugh.

  “Mom! You’re supposed to be on my side,” he fake whines.

  She rolls her eyes at him as Mr. Hayes takes a seat next to her on the couch. He isn’t a man of many words, but the fact that he loves his wife is evident by the way his arm immediately goes around her shoulders and he pulls her toward him. I drop my bag on the side of the adjacent couch and take a seat next to Zack.

  “Are you ready?” Zack asks with excitement filled eyes.

  “You know I’ve watched this movie before, right?”

  “I’d be offended if you hadn’t. It’s a classic.”

  “I didn’t peg you for a musical guy.”

  “I bet you didn’t peg me for a lot of things,” he says, teasing me. I lean back on the couch, feeling the weight of his arm over my shoulders, holding me in the same way his dad holds his mother. I smile at the similarities, but the differences crowd my mind.

  I’m giving this a chance because who knows what’ll happen in the future. Still, there’s a small part of me, the sane part, that knows that Zack and I are two completely different people. We aren’t his mom and dad.