“It’s not who you are. That’s what I don’t understand.”
He shrugs, like that’s an answer. He switches into gear and backs out. I sigh and lean back against the seat, mentally preparing myself for the dose of stupidity I’m getting ready to endure. Sexual comments, binge drinking, more than likely some vomit. Gee, why don’t I embrace his stellar friends? Having a few drinks, laughing, sharing friendship . . . I’m all for that, but what I’m about to witness tonight is the opposite. The guys like to push boundaries, embarrass and belittle people they feel are beneath them or don’t think like them. The girls allow it because this is the cream of the crop at our high school; the big men on campus. If they don’t want their asses pinched, too bad it will happen, and they will smile while the fingers on their asses leave a mark. They don’t want their sexual exploits broadcasted? Well, that’s a damn shame because before the condom is tossed in the trash, half the people at school will know. I don’t get why William hangs with them other than they are all teammates on the football team. I don’t understand why he can’t throw a ball to them during the game and toss them off when it’s over. He says it’s to remain cohesive . . . my ass.
I hear his deep inhale before he releases it, growling, “Can you just give it a rest?” His hand fists and bangs against the steering wheel causing me to jump, and my head meets the window.
He immediately slams on the brakes as he eases over to a parking lot. I’m rubbing my head staring at the alien imitating my boyfriend. His hand reaches up towards me, and I plaster myself against the door. “Damn it,” he mutters.
My stomach clenches; this behavior is something I’m not used to. I set my face, portraying my annoyance, “What is wrong with you? I made a simple statement, a true one. And you act like a Grade-A dick.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He can utter that phrase all he wants, but he better follow it up with something else. Something that makes sense. “I’ve always been able to keep a divide between you and them. I can’t now, and it scares me.”
“I have a solution to that.”
“Yes, Ems. I know your solution. Throw away my dreams of playing football in college; disrupt the team that has won State three years in a row, all while I was starting quarterback. You don’t understand, and you don’t try to see my point.”
“I do understand your dream. I support it, but at what expense? Who you are? These assholes are takers. Thugs. You hear the things they say about people? They’re bigots, Will, and you of all people shouldn’t tolerate it.”
“I don’t agree, but what do you want me to do? Ruin everything? I stand up to them, take a stand like you think I should, and it carries over to the field. Then it spills into every aspect of my life, and what have I accomplished? I know they’re dicks, hell even dangerous, but keeping them close helps me more than it hurts me.”
“And those around you? It hurts us. Think about what your parents think.”
“Don’t. Don’t go there, Ems.” His voice raises, and his neck cords. This is a battle he is waging inside of himself. “I can’t be everywhere to protect everyone, so this is the best solution. I don’t like it any more than you do, and if I were a better man, I’d take a stand, but I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Losing football. Losing you. Those are the things that make sense, and I don’t know another way to protect them.” His voice is shaky, and I can see it’s all too much. I know he has put all his focus and plans in one basket; football and me. No separation, they sometimes become synonymous. His love is mine, his passion the game. He says things only make sense to him on the field and in my arms.
“Okay, I’ll play nice. Just don’t make me stay all night. Next year will be better, you’ll be in college and able to make a name for yourself without close-minded haters surrounding you.”
“Thank you,” he whispers as he reaches for me. I go willingly and hold him just a bit tighter. This year is going to be a bumpy ride, and as long as I hold tight to him, what we are, I should be able to come out unscathed.
Just as I imagined, as we pull up to the abandoned field known as ‘football territory,’ the girls wear outfits that passed appropriate five blocks back and now just scream WHORE, the guys are well on their way to being drunk, groping, being lewd, and laughing at themselves. They have one thing right . . . laughter, because they are a joke. I take a deep breath and force it down to my core, calming myself at the same time I’m thrust into this viper pit. William squeezes my hand, and his attempt at a smile is pitiful. I reach up and kiss the underside of his jaw—reassuring us both I can be civil. I ask the big man upstairs for some help in patience because nobody has spoken to me yet, and I know I’ll need extra assistance. “Come on, QB.” I wink at him and let him lead me to the bumbling idiots.
“Looking good.”
“Hey William, grab a beer.”
“Oh, Emma graces us with her presence.”
“Turn around and let me see your ass in those shorts.”
These are typical greetings; but the last one pushed it too far.
“Seth, one more comment concerning my girl’s ass is going to land you ineligible for the season.”
“How you figure?”
“You can’t run with two broken legs and the nutrients you won’t be getting from a wired jaw will slow your healing down.” His tone is steely, eyes unblinking. I’m not a subject that will be broached without repercussions. I know this and should be happy with it, but it sets my nerves on end. He doesn’t let go of my hand but never relaxes in his standoff with Seth.
Finally, Seth throws up his hands in surrender. “Shit, William. It’s like that?”
“Exactly like that.” Brian nudges his brother, and the other guys aren’t making eye contact.
“Okay, got it. Save some of that fire for the field.”
“Keep your eyes off Emma and your comments to yourself, and you won’t be getting burned with this fire.” Everyone starts talking, dropping the awkwardness of this moment, and I find myself relaxing into Will’s side. It isn’t the distance I want, but it is a declaration. He isn’t rolling over and playing dead. His lips touch my forehead, and I hear as well as feel his breath ghost my skin. I know how he feels by the huge sigh he releases. We’ve been here all of five minutes, and I’m exhausted.
Nobody messes with us the rest of the night. There’s plenty of debauchery, but it happens around us, not involving us. The football fucks, as I refer to the girls who are used by them, keep drinking, giggling, and acting like they don’t know the definition of self-esteem. I know I’ll never befriend them, and that makes me just as judgmental as these people, I’ll own it and accept it.
Football season is full-throttle; mid-season is nonstop. We are learning to juggle our time between practices and games. He takes me to school every day and makes sure he is there after every class to see me, catch a quick kiss, or fleeting touch. After school he’s on the field until evening. Homework and prep takes precedence, and our time dwindles to nonexistent. It sucks, but it won’t always be like this. Next year will be worse with him at college and hours from home, but in a way it will be easier for him in another town. I’ll bide my time, and when all the pressure is off his shoulders, I know everything will fall into place.
Homecoming is this weekend, and I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. Will is my best friend, my other half; we’ve been through so much together, and this is the next step. It’s new, yet it’s tradition. We’ve gone on dates, but this is something else entirely. Who you take to Homecoming is a statement, and there is no other choice for either of us. It cements a hidden proclamation. Sure we’ve been Emma and William our whole lives, but this is like shouting to the masses we are solid, we are steady, we are . . . us.
I fuss over my hair, my mom flittering in my stuff making sure I have everything I need transferred to a smaller purse—lipstick, keys, ID, cash, cellphone. It’s all there.
“Thanks, Mom.”
She turns to fac
e me as I’m smoothing the short dress over my stomach and making sure it covers everything so my dad doesn’t have an aneurysm. “Emma Nichols, you’re stunning.” The shimmery silver fabric drapes over my body perfectly; it molds to my curves without being obnoxious. The thin straps highlight my tanned shoulders, and the short skirt shows off my legs.
“Thank you,” I smile at her. I chose to wear my hair up, and I wish I hadn’t. I’m so used to grabbing it and twirling it to ease my nerves. My hand gravitates to my necklace, and it’s wrapped around my finger before I realize it…but I can breathe.
“Nervous?”
“Yeah,” I admit, embarrassed because I shouldn’t be.
“No reason to be. That boy is crazy when it comes to you. It’s William.”
“I know, but it seems like it’s more. This seems bigger than our normal.”
“Emma,” I hear my dad call from the living room.
“Showtime,” my mom giggles. “And Lord help us when your dad sees this dress.”
I roll my eyes but laugh because it’s not as immodest as he will think, but he’d be happy if I were in a burlap sack with a chastity belt. I step into the living room and meet Will’s eyes. “Hi,” I mouth. His eyes roam my body, causing me to shiver and he hasn’t touched me. His look sets me afire, and I don’t hide my reaction to him.
“Where is the rest of that dress, young lady?”
I break my stare and turn to my dad. “On my body. Will it help if I tell you it was half off because all the material wasn’t included?”
“Not funny. Phoebe, you let her buy this?”
“No, Luke. I let you buy it. Check the credit card statement. The shoes, as well.” His gaze snaps to her, and she is trying hard not to laugh. “Relax, caveman. Everything is covered, she looks beautiful. Now tell your daughter you’re sorry for starting her night off on the wrong foot, give her a kiss, let me get some pictures, and they can leave. And you can pour me a glass of wine.”
Their stare-off lasts all of ten seconds.
“You do look beautiful, baby girl. You sure you want to go?”
“Yes, Dad. More than anything.” I see sadness pass in his eyes, but he quickly covers it. I don’t know who this growing up shit affects worse…him or me. “I love you.” I kiss his cheek and hug him, lingering a bit longer . . . for both of us.
“Love you.” He turns to William. “No funny business. She’s to be home at 11:30, and don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Yes sir.” Will nods at him. My mom appears with her camera and poses us. Right before the flash blinds me, he leans down, whispering, “You are the most beautiful girl in the world, Ems.” I turn my head and meet his eyes. My blue staring into his brown. My smile mirrors his. Our hearts beat in sync. Our worlds collide.
Chapter Eight
William
Words fail me. I stare as Emma walks into the room, and it can scarcely contain the beauty she emits. Blue eyes sparkle fighting for attention among the silver material covering her tanned body. I’m speechless. I feel as tongue-tied as I did when I was first adopted, a toddler taken from Honduras and my native language of Spanish. Suddenly being thrust into a foreign country and hearing a completely different language I wasn’t used to made me clam up. I didn’t speak for months, but the speech therapist made my transition easier for me. In no time at all, I was speaking fluent English. I didn’t do much talking at the orphanage. It was like a third world country. We didn’t have names, just ‘baby boy’ on our birth certificates. Since then, words became my friend, and I learned and used as many as I could.
Until now when I can’t find any to tell her what she does to me…what she makes me feel.
Inarticulate, I stare at her, communicate the way we did all those years ago. She wasn’t old enough to talk, but I knew what she wanted before her cries could start just as she knew when I needed reassurance and would refuse to go to anyone but me. We calm each other’s storms; we are the peace to one another’s turbulence, and the beacon to each other’s light. When I have her next to me, I can speak. I tell her how beautiful she is and never has a term been so inadequate, so inept at capturing everything she is. She turns to me, and the flash momentarily stuns me. Phoebe’s face lights up as she looks at the image on her camera. “This one is frame worthy if I say so myself.”
“Don’t hold back, Mom.” Emma laughs breathlessly.
“I’d like a copy, please.”
“Of course, William. At least someone has faith in my masterpiece.”
“Stick to the pink shoes.” Luke pulls the camera from her. While he is distracted looking back through the photos, Phoebe silently shoos us out of the house.
“Geez, she’s crazy with pictures.”
“Just wait until prom, Ems.”
“William Jacobs, are you asking me to prom?”
“Emma Nichols, I’d ask you to the moon if it meant I could be with you.”
“It’d be horrible for my hair. Humidity is a bitch.” She smirks at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Well?”
“What?”
“Are you going to answer me?”
“I wasn’t aware you asked a question.”
“Will you go to prom with me?” I grin at her silly game. Word play, semantics, she just likes to push the limits.
“I’ll get back to you.” She tosses her sass over her shoulder as she reaches my truck. I lock the door with the remote and grab her from behind, curling my fingers into her waist but not putting pressure. She begins to squirm. “Don’t do it. You’ll mess up my hair and dress.”
“Won’t bother me any.” I apply the slightest pressure, and she doubles over. “Tell me you’ll go to prom with me.” Her silence is met with another squeeze.
“Okay, okay. I give. You win. But I draw the line at the moon.”
I kiss the back of her neck. “Anywhere I go, you go. Hair and humidity be damned.”
“Neanderthal.”
“Yours.”
“All mine.” She turns in my arms and kisses me but won’t let me deepen it. I dig my fingers in just enough to get her attention, but it won’t induce the hysterics she is prone to with tickling. It captures her attention enough she opens her damn saucy mouth. I take advantage and slip my tongue past her lips, and she becomes compliant in my arms. I pull my lips away from her mouth, trying to not get carried away. Unlocking the door, I hoist her body up and wait for her to buckle up. “Mauve isn’t your color.” She grins wiping my lips.
“Every color you wear is my color.”
“Arrogant.”
“Beautiful.”
“Okay, charmer, let’s go. The bullshit is getting deep.” I chuckle at her, hurry around the front of the truck, and climb in. She immediately begins fiddling with the radio, and I let it go. We have the same taste unless it’s her twangy country . . . I draw the line there.
The drive to the school is short, and I pull up in front of the gym decorated with our school colors, posters cheering us, and people standing outside waiting for friends to arrive. The game is tomorrow night, so the entire football team has a curfew of midnight, which I’m thankful for. Otherwise, the guys would want to go out and cause trouble, and I just want some time with Emma. Homecoming court was announced earlier, and I sighed in relief when I was beat for King because there wasn’t anyone I was going to dance with, pose with, or pay attention to other than her tonight.
I pull her in and make my way through the doors of the cafeteria where the tables have disappeared and in their wake is a pseudo-romantic/team spirit theme. Girls timidly stand next to their dates, those who came alone stand in the corners taking it all in. Emma didn’t come last year, she and Holly were little fish in a big pond, choosing to thumb their nose at tradition as they binged on junk food and chick flicks, but she kept a running commentary via text messages with me all night. Emma won’t admit it, but I think the fear of coming when we weren’t together scared her off; she didn’t want to see me with anyone else,
and that isn’t something I would have subjected her to. I made my mandatory appearance, chatted a bit, then snuck off to our place until my curfew. One day I’ll make her realize it’s always been her.
My crew is next to the door I’m sure, mocking those who don’t meet their standards. I clap hands with a few of them as we walk past but steer her towards the opposite side, praying no one stops us. Holly and her date see us approach, and she and Ems squeal in delight. I know this is their big debut at a high school event, being a sophomore they have two more years of this. Holly recently started dating this guy, his name eludes me, and he’s a senior. She and Em have been close since grade school, and by default, Holly is like a little sister.
Her date holds his hand out, “Andy.” I shake his hand and size him up at the same time.
“William.” I nod and grip his hand a bit hard.
“I know. The entire school knows.” He doesn’t seem impressed with my status, and that makes me like him. He doesn’t break eye contact and doesn’t flinch in my grip. He passes muster; if he’s going to be in Holly’s life he’ll be in Emma’s. I nod in his direction; he does the same. The guy version of acceptance.
I bend to hug Holly, and she whispers, “Be nice.” I let go of her and wink. Andy and I dip into a conversation about football, college, and everyday bullshit while Ems and Holly soak in their surroundings. I hear hooting and hollering across the room and ignore it. I know where it’s coming from. If I can pretend it doesn’t exist I won’t get drawn into it and ruin a perfect night. I glance at Ems in my peripheral vision and see her laser-focused on the area I’m trying to avoid. She rolls her eyes, and her stance is anything but relaxed. I reach towards her, run my hand down the back of her neck, and pull her closer by her shoulders. Slowing my breaths and trying to transfer some calm into her, I pray she follows my lead.
The lights dim, and the spotlight shines on the stage. I know we are getting a reprieve. Homecoming court is being crowned and after we can sneak out. Students push their way to the front, hoping for a piece of the action. I’m just fine making room for them, pushing us farther into the recesses. The crowning causes pandemonium to erupt, and it’s like nobody heard the different announcements that littered the school all day. It’s not a surprise so the deafness that I’m treated to isn’t at all understandable. Emma is laughing at my facial expression.
Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) Page 5
