by Kitty Parker
"Not that I'm aware of," she replied, tapping her chin with a long, elegant finger that unconsciously drew attention to the delicate lines of her throat, "I was thinking of going to the dojo sometime. Why?"
"Well, there's this thing," I informed her before I thought. Wow, that didn't sound stupid at all. I had to hide my wince as a grin flashed across her face. I couldn't have gotten a crush on the girl who would respect a momentary lapse in judgment, could I? Of course, then I probably wouldn't have liked her in the first place…
"You don't say," she drawled, all sarcastic incredulity. I opted against rolling my eyes at her, instead maintaining my vaguely contemptuously stoic façade. It was fairly obvious that I was going somewhere with this.
"My parents are hosting this party thing, a reception for a bunch of their clients and partners and colleagues and other important people," I explained tolerantly, watching her out of the corner of my eye as we pulled up to a stoplight. She raised her eyebrows, prompting me to elaborate. "And I have to go, because they feel the need to display their eldest son," I continued. If I listened closely, I might have heard some of the bitterness I had buried so deeply so long ago. From Emma's sudden, piercing glance, she may have listened that closely. But you never knew with her. "And I need to bring a date, or else someone with ambition will try to matchmake."
She twitched, almost nervously, but covered it up quickly with a laugh. "Poor Darien," she observed with a wry smirk, shaking her head in mock despair, "You're just in too much demand."
"I know," I agreed fervently, ignoring her sarcasm for the second time (today at least) in favor of the truth, "It's really annoying. I'm not just an object to be bartered off by my parents."
"Then just get one of your groupies to go with you," she suggested immediately, as if she were trying to change the subject, "You know they'd be delighted to go with you, any of the hundreds."
"I could," I conceded amiably. She really was missing the point here, wasn't she? That would open a whole new Pandora's box of issues, including but not limited, to their ceaseless giggling and their own interpretations of what the night would entail. "Or–" I hesitated a second, then forged on bravely. Thankfully, the light changed just then, and that gave me an excuse not to look at her, "–you could go with me and shield me."
"Why?" was her instant response. Not offensively, but more as if she were honestly curious, "I won't make nearly as good a trophy date as some of them. I don't know half the stuff they grew up with."
"Well, if I go with one of them I'd be bored out of my mind by everyone else and them," I pointed out with irrefutable logic. This was just a friendly thing after all. Nothing more. At least, not for her. "But with you I would be sure of some sort of amusement."
"Glad to know I'm so loved," she snorted with a half smile, her eyes sparkling as bright as the light on the mirrors, "Valued only for my supply of entertainment."
"Nothing more," I nodded offhandedly, glad she had accepted my excuse for inviting her. She sneered elegantly at me – honestly, how many people could be elegant while sneering? – and sighed.
"So, are we talking semi-formal, black tie, what?" she inquired. I hid a grin. That was definitely a yes to my invite. Oh, sweet revenge on all those awful matchmaking Mamas! Their doom was eminent, in the form of the small, pretty girl beside me. I couldn't wait.
"Evening wear, I'm afraid," I shuddered at the thought. I like to look presentable as much as the next man, don't get me wrong, but spending hour after hour in a suit, in a stuffy and brightly lit room, was far too much, "My parents just signed a big deal or something, and they're celebrating. So you have to look especially impressive."
"Oh joy." Despite her less than enthusiastic words, there was an excited glint in her eyes at the thought of a fancy dress. Girls. I will never understand them. "Well, I suppose I could spare an evening to bail out a desperate friend."
"I'm touched," I informed her dryly. I wasn't really that set on her going. Okay, so maybe I was. But she didn't know that, and I wasn't desperate. It's not like I was begging her or anything.
"Oh, shut up," she elbowed me playfully in the ribs, "You know what I mean."
"Driving!" I yelped, rubbing my side while trying to keep my attention on the road. Damn, her elbows were sharp. She needed to put more fat on her bones if she was going to make a habit of elbowing me. "Bad time to pick a fight!"
It was like someone had turned the switch of her vivacity from on to off; she shut off that quickly, her face closing instantaneously. I immediately regretted saying anything. Bringing up Dan would not help me or her, damnit!
"Oh, right," she muttered, sitting ramrod straight and deathly still, "Sorry."
A silence, broken only by the cars we flashed past. As we pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school, it grew too oppressive for me, and I had to crack the tension. "Are you actually going to study for exams?" I asked, as if continuing a conversation that we had been having for a while. The silence shouldn't have been awkward, after all, only my unruly emotions had made me feel like it was, and Emma couldn't know that the silences felt oddly charged now. Not a bad odd, in fact almost a good odd, but weird nonetheless.
"Of course," she exclaimed as if it should be obvious. She paused a second, and then, as a more realistic addendum, "If I have the time. And inclination."
"You know, you aren't half the overachiever people think you are," I observed with a smile as we got out of the car to wait. She grinned up at me, eyes twinkling.
"And you aren't half as scary as people think you are," she countered with a smirk, her eyebrows raised cunningly, "good thing neither of us will tattle."
"Or will I?" I laughed evilly, throwing back my head like every good villain. She gave me a look, and I stopped, asking with a sulky set to my face, "What?"
"Your evil laugh needs work," she informed me blandly, her lips twitching as if she was trying not to break into peels of laughter. Which, knowing her, she probably was. And even if I almost certainly deserved that mockery, I didn't have to like it.
"Are you laughing at me?" I demanded indignantly, hiding the amusement I felt.
She swallowed, and her face went absolutely emotionless again, except for eyes still dancing too joyously for me to take her seriously. "No, no, of course not. Why would I ever laugh at you?"
"I don't know, but you are," I contradicted, narrowing my eyes at her. I wasn't mad at all, not really, but she could at least own up to it, even if I knew better than to expect her to apologize.
"Maybe I am," she retorted aggressively, even if nothing in her body language spoke of belligerence, "Whatcha gonna do about it?"
I thought quickly, but no good threat came to mind. Maybe I should reconsider my career choice of evil mastermind. "Something horrible," I assured her disdainfully, "But it'll be when you least expect it."
"Forgive me if I don't hold my breath," she drawled, voice dripping boredom and unconcern in a way that combined cosmopolitanism and naïveté, and in a way that was purely Emma. A loud bell clanged before I could reply, and seconds later kids came pouring out of the school like a flood. I exchanged an amused look with Emma, and then began to peer over the sea of heads, trying to spot bright blonde.
Finally, "Troy!" I yelled, catching a glimpse of him. He looked around for the source of the yell, saw me, and grinned widely, trotting over to us with a few of his friends trailing behind. That's my brother, already developing a posse. He was well on his way to as much popularity as me.
"Hey, Dar!" He cried excitedly, "You didn't say you'd pick me up!" I shot a glance at Emma, but she didn't appear to notice. Of course, she probably did anyway and didn't feel like enlightening me.
"Got out early." I explained offhandedly. And truthfully – sort of. Trying to get Emma alone so I could ask her to come with me to that event, may have been a small motivation. Minuscule. Barely perceptible.
Troy obviously didn't catch my omission, because he was already turning to Emma. "Emma!" he shouted with
delight, his blue eyes shining as brightly as the cloudless summer sky above us, "You came too! I haven't seen you in ages!" he threw his arms around her, unable to express his glee in any other way.
"Hey, kiddo," she replied with a grin at me, ruffling his hair fondly. Okay, when I started to get jealous of my kid brother something was very wrong with me. I had to get a hold of myself. She was just a girl, nothing more.
Troy quickly let go of her and stepped back. "So, are you coming home with us?" he demanded eagerly, then, turning to me, "Is she-"
"Hey, Troy," one of his friends cut him off, peeking curiously out from behind my brother, "Is that your brother's girlfriend?"
"No!" Emma and I snapped simultaneously. Was hers just a shade too fast? Because I knew mine was, and so if she said it at the same speed as me… No, she was probably just sick of everyone suggesting we liked each other. But she hadn't seemed to notice my indiscretion – thank God.
"We're just friends," I continued, shooting Emma a sidelong glance. She wasn't reacting at all, and I wasn't sure if that was good or bad. I ran an unconscious hand through my hair. 'That's all."
"Oh, good." The kid gazed up at her, eyes wide and worshipping. Not very far up, I noted with amusement (though there was very little amusing about this situation) as she was only a foot taller than him. "Because she's really pretty." Suddenly, it just became far less amusing.
"Well good for her," I spat, yanking the door of the car open with far too much force to be healthy, "Come on Troy, we're going." I didn't see, but could almost sense, the confused looks Emma and Troy exchanged, but Troy obediently hopped into the backseat of the car as Emma slid into the front with a wink at the boy, who looked like he was about to faint with pleasure.
"I think I was just hit on by a 5th grader," she observed, a look on her face that was half laughter and half disgust. Now that we were away from that kid, I supposed I could see where the former half came from. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted."
"Hey!" Troy protested, which was good, because I didn't like the answer on its way to my mouth. It would have given far too much away. Stupid hormones. Stupid jealousy. "What's wrong with 5th graders?"
I couldn't help but grin, my foul temper dissolving under the pressure of the beautiful day, Troy's cheeriness, and Emma's smile. "She's a bit old for him," I pointed out. Emma tossed her hair, an annoyed look on her face. Oh great, what had I said now?
"Well, at least he thinks I'm pretty," she muttered just loud enough for the whole car to hear. And it being Emma, I'm sure that was calculated.
"What?" I exclaimed. God, girls. "I didn't- what I meant- he said- I never said you weren't pretty!" I spluttered, completely lost. Was she honestly mad about something as idiotic as that? At least the girls I held in thrall never got angry about a slip of the tongue.
But a smirk was growing on her face, and a satisfied glimmer in her eyes. 'I know," she chirped with extreme contentedness, leaning back comfortably in her seat, "You just look so funny when you're flustered."
I groaned. "You," I told her, hitting the steering wheel to emphasize my point as apparently all the other times I had told her it hadn't sunk in, "Are a bitch."
"But you love me anyway," she tossed back innocently, her smile making me totally incapable of being angry, even if I had been in the first place. That could be a distinct disadvantage to our arguments I foresaw, but somehow I couldn't care when its light fell on me.
"Sure," I replied sarcastically, "Of course I do." And I really, really, really hoped she couldn't detect that the veneer of sarcasm was only a thin layer over a much deeper truth.
o0O0o0O0o
I was unpacking my backpack that evening when the note fell out of a side pocket. A Matchmaker note. How the hell had it gotten there? I hadn't been back to my locker since I delivered my own note, so I couldn't have picked it up. Yet here it was, sitting on my desk, obviously her meticulously neat writing. Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and overwhelmed the mystery of the thing. I opened the note, putting aside the question of how it had gotten there for later.
Better luck next year, Darien, it read, But don't hold your breath.
Now where had I heard that phrase lately?
Chapter 30
* * *
Emma
* * *
"You're kidding me!" Rhi spluttered disbelievingly. Faintly, across the phone line, I could hear the sound of a drink being sprayed out of her mouth in shock. Luckily, I didn't have to conceal my satisfied smirk. I had purposely withheld this juicy piece of information until tonight, just to get this reaction. I loved surprising her so much. "That is so awesome. What do you have to wear?" Trust Rhi to focus on the most important stuff straightaway.
"Oh, I think I've found something," I drawled. Which meant, in a reality that I would never confess to anyone, that I had dragged my mom shopping the minute I had gotten home last Friday, and screw studying. Luckily, I had managed to find a dress pretty quickly, or I might have bombed exams. But now they were done, for the second last time of my high school career, and all I had to worry about was whether or not I could behave for a whole evening, without mouthing off to any of the bigwigs there. On the whole, I thought I could- though not without difficulty.
"Well, you better look totally awesome. I mean, stunning and amazing," Rhi warned, vicarious excitement coloring reply, adding a quiver to her voice of suppressed joy. In fact, I bet she was trembling; Rhi was weird like that. "Because you're living every girl's dream."
"What do you mean?" I glanced at my watch. 6 o'clock. Darien was picking me up at 6:30- I was far too lazy to walk, and he had reluctantly agreed to drive me as a condition for me going- and that meant it was time to get ready. I put Rhi on speaker and tossed her onto the bed, heaving myself up and opening my closet to pull out my dress, surveying it with an air of purely feminine satisfaction.
It was a deep green color, almost like a pine tree, and long enough that the back just brushed the floor, which had the huge advantage of making me look taller. The soft, clingy material molded to my body, tracing all my movements, and it shimmered to change shades as the light shifted. The halter top, a golden ribbon wrapping about my neck, hugged my collarbone close enough to be modest, but the back was open- not that I wanted to give anyone, Darien least of all, ideas. The waist, belted closely with a strip of cloth as golden as the neckline, lent variety to the monochrome dress; the close fit actually gave me some curves. All in all, it was lovely, and, as an added bonus, cheap.
"Emma," Rhi spoke to me like she was stating the most obvious thing in the world to a two year old who was too thick to comprehend, "Darien McGavern asked you out. Girls everywhere would kill to be in your shoes."
"No they wouldn't, my shoes would be too small for most," I replied absently, ignoring Rhi's snort of laughter as I hung the dress on the outside of my closet. Not to get into yet- knowing me I would manage to spill something on it- but as inspiration for other stuff, like hair and makeup. "And he didn't ask me out. I'm going as a favor to a friend, and that's all he meant."
"A friend who just happens to be The Most Wanted Guy in school," Rhi pointed out, "And not without reason." I shrugged, then realized she couldn't see me. Hopefully she understood, tough, because there was still a pause as I finished putting on eyeliner, willing my eyes not to water. I knew there was a reason I didn't wear makeup anymore.
"Yeah, well, that's not according to me." As soon as I said it, I wished I hadn't. She had the ammo to refute it a thousand times over, even if it was true. Which it was, obviously. I didn't care that everyone thought Darien was the hottest thing to walk this planet; I didn't agree. At all. The only reason I was putting this much effort into looking nice was that I, like every other girl, liked to look pretty once in a while. I wasn't trying to measure up to Darien's usual standard at all.
"Oh really?" And I would have winced at her teasing tone, knowing all too well what was coming, but I was in the middle of putting on mascara and
I didn't feel like poking myself in the eye. "Because I seem to remember-"
"I know, I know. I know. Do you really have to refresh my memory?' I asked, just shy of pleading. This was not what I needed right now. I had just recovered from Dan- and I hadn't even really recovered, then. My judgment had been faulty.
But Rhi would not be put off. "Yes, I think you do," she insisted, and I groaned. Regardless of my pain, she continued, "Because I remember that, the first day of school in Freshmen year, when I was pointing out all the important people in our new school, you saw him- didn't you whistle- and you said that he was the hottest kid there."
"A minor error," I objected, plaiting my hair into a braid with steady fingers. That had been a long time ago; it could no longer affect me. And I had been young and foolish; I quickly changed what I thought of him, once I realized what an insufferable bastard he had been. She just had to bring up my youthful indiscretions…
"And then you went on, and I think he heard you because didn't he smirk at you when he walked by and you totally winked back and there was a connection even then, to say that you would 'do that.'" Her wicked amusement at my irritation was, I supposed in some distant corner of my mind, justified; I had tortured her enough. But still, that was uncalled for.
"I was a different person then," I informed her loftily, letting go of my hair to keep myself calm while I set her straight. No point in messing it up just because Rhi was being an idiot.
"You can't just divide yourself into two people," Rhi countered. I snorted. It worked quite well for me, thank you very much. Well, not two- I was up to at least three at this point, or somewhere around there. "And you know you still think he's hot."
"Well, yeah, I'm not blind," I admitted around a mouthful of bobby pins as I twisted my braid into a crown around the top of my head. Sometimes, having this much hair was just a drag- but this wasn't one of those times. I looked good. "But that doesn't-"
