by Stella Rhys
“Yeah, but what about… the thing he did?” I challenged hotly, though my question lost steam halfway through.
Evie knew about the big drama that exploded between Emmett and me junior year, but we didn’t really discuss the subject much. That night in college when I got drunk off cheap wine from Trader Joe’s and finally spilled the beans about that fight, I had made Evie promise to say nothing after I finished the story.
I just had to get it out.
But once I got it out, Evie kind of pursed her lips and winced in a way that made me feel weird. I then broke my rule and asked her to say something, at which point she broke my heart by asking a bunch of questions that made me think she might actually be on Emmett’s side.
And since I refused to lose yet another friend to Emmett Hoult, I told her we should just forget the whole story and never speak of it again.
That was ten years ago and I decided I was going to keep my table-it streak going.
“You know what – don’t answer that question,” I said hastily. “Just…” I sunk into my chair as I groaned up at the ceiling. “Tell me my next move, Evie. He’s been texting me all day about wanting to see me, and I don’t know what to do or say because my brain is completely broken right now.”
“Fine.” Evie exhaled hard and chewed her nails for a minute. Then she shut the door, which meant she was getting serious for once. “Aly.” Pulling her chair from her desk, she sat in front of me. “If we’re being real here… financially speaking, you can’t afford anything else. As both your business partner and your closest friend, I can tell you objectively that your best move here is to do anything you can to make things work with Emmett.” Drawing in a huge breath, she let go of a sigh. “Even if it means wasting his hotness and forcing him to be completely platonic.”
I looked up at her weakly.
“Somehow, I don’t think the platonic thing is going to work after last night.”
“Well, it’s either that or move in with me and Mike. Because you can’t afford to rent even a motel room from now till Labor Day, Aly. Even the shittiest one that’s close enough to work is going to cost you well over five grand for the rest of the summer.”
I bit down hard on my lip. Goddammit. I wished so desperately I could just move in with Evie and nix Mike from the equation, but that was actually a horrifyingly selfish thought, and it just didn’t work like that. People had lives to live outside of my personal problems – my best friend included. Besides, I could never live with myself if I knew I was the reason they called off their engagement. And I could barely imagine the restaurant surviving if a drama like that went down. If Mike left Evie, we’d both be wrecks. She’d be heartbroken, I’d be guilty, and we’d probably wind up running the business straight into the ground.
Which meant I really only had one option.
“So basically, I have no choice but to stay with Emmett,” I mumbled.
“Yep!” Evie said brightly as I groaned to the ceiling. “Oh, come on, Aly,” she frowned, patting my knee. “It’s going to be fine. I’m sure that you two can coexist platonically under one roof. And if for some reason, you fall out of the shower one day and land on his cock, that won’t be the worst thing in the world, right?”
I shot her daggers before swiveling around in my chair and letting my head fall to my desk.
God, this was going to suck.
6
EMMETT
I was working out on the deck when Ozzy leapt from his spot in the sun and bolted straight into the house. My heart was already beating fast from my set but now it was racing because I knew his sudden dash inside meant that Aly was home.
With the back of my forearm, I wiped the sweat off my brow and trailed Ozzy into the kitchen, my blood rushing faster when I heard the sound of Aly being caught so sweetly off-guard.
“Oh my God, hi. Hi! Where’d you come from?” I heard her greeting Ozzy a second before I laid my eyes on her in the foyer.
And when I did, I had to hold my breath for a second, because Christ, she was beautiful.
My heart damn near stopped as I hung back in the kitchen, happy to let Aly play with Ozzy while I quietly ran my eyes all over her. She was just in her work clothes, but she looked fucking incredible. Her hair was pulled back in a low knot, and she had two locks of blonde hanging down to frame her face. Her tan pencil skirt hugged the living hell out of those hips, and her blue button-down fit just tight enough to trigger memories of exactly how perfect and sexy she was underneath.
The fact that she looked this good while laughing with my dog made me want to get down on one knee and propose right there.
But then Ozzy gave one short bark to alert her to my presence.
“Oh. Hi.” The joy vanished from Aly’s voice the second she spotted me. I tried not to take it personally.
“Hey,” I said, doing my best to keep it together as she stood up again. I wanted to touch her. I wanted to put my hands all over her. It felt like every nerve ending in my body was on high alert just waiting to feel her skin on mine. But I could tell from the way she stood stiffly that she wanted none of that.
So despite the fucking tornado of need ricocheting in my chest, I wrangled every one of my urges and controlled myself.
“Aly…”
“Wait, Emmett. Let me start first.” Aly tore her eyes off the sweaty crew neck clinging to my chest. “About last night…”
For some reason, I held out for the miracle of her saying she didn’t regret it.
“It was a big mistake.”
Yeah. Fuck.
“What makes you say that?” I asked tersely. Panic flashed in her eyes as I took a step forward.
“Wait. Just… stay there for a second,” she said fast. “Because before you say anything else, I just need to say this: I know I’m the one who’s in a bad situation right now, and I’m the one who needs the favor of crashing here, so I’m really in no place to make demands about how you live in your own house. Beggars can’t be choosers, and I know that… but I also know I can’t survive under the same roof as you unless we agree to be strictly platonic and pretend like last night didn’t happen at all. It’s just too weird and irresponsible, and I’d probably move out the second something inappropriate happened again, so I might as well just tell you this now. If you’re for some reason okay with us being friends, I’m going to officially ask you if I can stay here for the summer, because Lord knows I need it. But if you don’t think that’s possible, I’ll pack my bags now and I promise you won’t have to hear from me again. Okay?”
She finished so breathlessly she didn’t have the air to stop me when I walked closer to her. All she did was stand there, her eyes wild and flitting all over my face and my chest.
“Did you… process all that?” she exhaled anxiously. “Emmett. Please say something.”
I struggled to. Unlike last night, she was in flats and standing this close to her made me remember how small she was next to me. It made me fantasize about a million new positions I could fuck her tight, tiny little body in, so the last thing I felt capable of doing right now was telling her that I was fine with being just friends.
But I didn’t have a choice.
“It’s all good, Aly. We can keep it platonic.”
Her eyebrows shot up as my insides screamed what the fuck on repeat.
I didn’t believe myself. At all. But I had no other move here. Just hearing Aly talk about her bags was enough to remind me that I wasn’t letting her go again. I’d already told myself at breakfast that I’d do everything in my power to make her stay, and if agreeing to being platonic was one of those things, then I was in – even if I knew every second of it was going to be torture.
“Really?” Aly asked, her voice small and her lashes fluttering at me. God, she was so fucking cute. All I wanted was to say no, I want you right now on this fucking floor, but I held back.
“Yeah,” I said simply. “Really.”
“That won’t… be hard for you?”
It’ll be hard as a fuckin’ rock, I thought. But on the outside, I gave a shrug.
“Shouldn’t be. I’m pretty famous for having a short memory,” I said, laughing only because it was one of the many asshole things Julian liked to say about me. “Something pisses you off and a second later, you’re fine again. It’s like a magic trick,” he still remarked every so often.
And in his defense, that ability was a hundred percent real in high school. Life was easy then, and everything rolled off my back. But by college, the short-term memory became a thing of the past. I didn’t have the luxury of forgetting things when I had the weight of the fucking world on my shoulders.
That said I liked that people assumed I was still easy breezy Emmett.
It made it so that nobody looked past the surface. No one suspected me of having any secrets. They all thought that what they saw was what they got, and that was never anything but an advantage for me.
Especially now.
“I… wow. I can’t believe you’re being so cool about this,” Aly said, stunned. But she quickly corrected herself. “I mean – I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just… I’m a little surprised. But extremely grateful. Okay. Wow.” She had her hands on her head as she let out a laugh that was a mix between shock and relief. “I can’t even begin to describe how much you’re saving my ass, Emmett. So thank you. A million times, thank you,” she said, looking sheepish when her eyes flickered to my damp T-shirt again. “I would give you a hug but you’re… all sweaty.”
I smirked as I watched her. She was still panting as she came down from her shock, and her short little breaths had those big tits straining tight against her shirt like they were ready to pop right out. One look and I was picturing them naked the way I had them last night. In my hands. In my mouth.
Fuck.
I was already losing it on the inside but I kept a straight face for Aly.
“No worries. I’ll take a rain check,” I said.
“Ha-ha!” Aly offered a laugh so unnatural I would’ve snorted at her if I weren’t feeling wound so completely tight. I cleared my throat.
“Anyway, I should shower now.”
“Oh yeah – sorry! Go do your thing!” Aly said eagerly.
And before I fucked up our friendship pact on day one, I went upstairs, jumped in the shower and jacked my dick like a fucking animal.
7
ALY
The first few days of living with Emmett went surprisingly well, though mostly because our schedules were absolute opposites.
My day started at 5AM so I could get to work by six, since the restaurant opened its doors at seven o’clock sharp. By the time I got home from work, Emmett was usually out or getting ready to leave. From what I understood, summer in the Hamptons meant nonstop fundraisers for fancy folks like him.
“These are all the people who write the biggest checks to my foundation, so I can’t flake on their parties without looking like an asshole,” he’d explained the night I came home to find him running late and looking sinfully good. He was wearing a crisp white shirt while knotting a black silk tie, and he looked so fucking handsome that I couldn’t have blurted a faster “no” when he asked me to join him that night.
“Aly. It’s all good,” he’d smiled a bit too knowingly when I launched into a nervous ramble about being tired, having nothing to wear, and a bunch of other excuses I was afraid he could see right through – especially since he’d caught me eyeing him through the mirror while he was straightening his tie.
But aside from that awkward moment, we were getting along great.
What little time Emmett and I did have together at the house was surprisingly good, because so far, it was just a half hour to an hour per day of work stories, Ozzy stories, and showing each other videos on the Apple TV. I mean if there was anything that bonded us as kids, it was the dumb shit we watched on YouTube while enduring our parents’ long weekly dinners. Back then, our preferences involved videos of people falling or suffering horrible bloopers while trying to report the news. These days, however, our taste had matured just slightly to prefer stupid SNL skits and compilations of people being surprised with puppies.
I was surprised with how well we were adjusting.
It felt so comfortable that I decided to say yes to Emmett’s dinner invitation on Thursday. I mean I had proposed that we’d be friends, and friends did sometimes grab meals together, so I reasoned that this was no different.
Though just to be safe, I made sure to wear a ragged old T-shirt and awkwardly long shorts.
It was like playing a mind trick on myself. If I didn’t care to look good while out with Emmett, that meant I didn’t see him as anything romantic. Also, if I wasn’t dressed nicely, that meant he couldn’t choose any nice restaurants for us to go to. Right?
Well.
Not exactly.
The restaurant Emmett chose was a beautiful place I’d heard of called Blue Harbor. It was a beachside restaurant designed to look like a cozy albeit super fancy living room. It had a gorgeous open view of the water, and it was high up on the list of Hamptons restaurants I desperately wanted to try, but I wasn’t so sure about it tonight.
“It literally says no flip flops or shorts, Emmett, and I’m wearing both,” I said dryly, pointing at the sign on the door and then gesturing down at my legs. I narrowed my eyes at him when he took a longer than necessary look. When his gaze returned to mine, he smirked.
“Yeah, I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” he said breezily, walking ahead of me through the doors.
“Yeah, except what makes you so sure?” I persisted on the sidewalk. Emmett called back from well inside.
“Because I own this place.”
I stared.
Of course.
After inwardly griping about the fact that Emmett secretly owned one of the most heralded restaurants in the same town as my comparatively dinky café, I sucked in a deep breath and dragged my flip-flopped feet in.
Inside the restaurant, I found that Emmett hadn’t made it far on his own because he’d apparently been stopped by half the staff and pretty much all the patrons at the bar – men and women alike. I couldn’t help but shake my head as I watched him get treated like royalty in a way I was actually quite familiar with seeing. The girls even used the same line they did twelve years ago – “Emmett, do you remember my name? I bet you don’t remember my name!”
Geez.
Even as we were seated, I watched with arched eyebrows as the manager glided over with two glasses of champagne, setting them neatly on the table before asking Emmett if he’d like the chef to “just send some things out.” When Emmett nodded, the manager gathered our menus, asked me if I needed anything beyond champagne, and upon hearing my “no, thank you,” gave an elegant nod and then glided away.
I mouthed wow as Emmett finally turned back to me.
“Guess some things never change,” I noted.
“What does that mean?”
“All that just now was pretty much what high school looked like from my vantage point,” I said with a laugh. “You walking down the hall, girls fawning over you, and then someone coming up and asking if you have everything you need – usually one of my friends making sure that she did your homework right.”
Emmett chuckled. “I still get attention from women, but I can pretty much assure you that everything else about me has changed since high school.”
“Really.” I lifted an eyebrow. It sounded to me like a severely bold statement. “That’s kind of hard to believe.”
“Why? Everyone changes after high school. I mean look at you. You’ve changed…” He raised his eyebrows. “A lot since high school.”
I narrowed my stare as his flicked from my lips to my chest before traveling quickly back up to my eyes. He only grinned when he realized that he’d been caught.
“Yes, you’re right. My hair is long and blonde again,” I said so we could pretend that was the part of my body he was referring to just now when he talked about
changes. Emmett laughed.
“Actually, yeah, that’s a pretty huge change. I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason I didn’t recognize you that night we – ”
“Ah, ah.” My cheeks burned as I stopped Emmett from talking about the night we almost had sex for God’s sake.
“Oh. Right,” Emmett laughed, swiping his thumb across his bottom lip in a way I wish I didn’t find so attractive. “Change of topic.”
“Yes. Let’s go back to how you’ve changed since high school,” I said awkwardly as Emmett smirked.
“Fine.” He nodded. “Well, for starters I don’t play football anymore, and that was a pretty big part of my identity back then,” Emmett said. “Plus, I’m way more responsible now since, you know. I have a kid.”
I choked on my water. “You do? Oh God, when did that happen?” I asked, wondering how the hell I hadn’t heard about this. Emmett eyed my reaction for a second before giving a slow chuckle.
“Yeah… I was talking about Ozzy.”
“Oh.” I exhaled hard as he snorted.
“But good to know that you’d react to me having a kid with that kind of horror.”
“Oh my God, I’m sorry. I just… can’t imagine you being responsible for another human life,” I said, giggling at the mere thought of it. Emmett frowned.
“Hey, believe it or not, I’m a good caretaker. And someday, I’m going to be a damned good father.”
“Oh – of course you are!” I said, swallowing back the last of my laugh because Emmett looked surprisingly offended. “I mean you’re a good dad to Ozzy, obviously, and you did have pretty much the best possible role model in the dad department,” I added – but the second I did, I felt something twist in my chest.
Crap. I froze, blinking down into my lap when I realized that what I felt was a sudden guilt.
Because I had known that Emmett’s dad died unexpectedly about ten years ago. It was about a year after our big fight, and I was still at the height of loathing him and indulging in my pissed off teenaged angst, so I didn’t fly home for the funeral. I’d bought the ticket but never showed up at the airport, and since it was still one of my biggest regrets, I’d pushed the memory to the back of my head.
