by Vivian Wood
Emma glances behind her, to where the rocks are. “Are you sure?”
I shrug. “We don’t have to ride at all.”
She looks indecisive. “Maybe we’ll just do it once?”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” I give her a smile. “Now, for your wave. You want to pick a wave that is coming right at you, not at an angle. Make sure there is plenty of whitewater in the wave, too. Oh! And this is important. When you wipe out, you want to fall behind the board, and wrap your arms around your head. Protects you from the board knocking you in the head.”
“Got it, I think.” She scans the waves coming. “Not this one…”
“Nope. It’s coming in at a definite angle.”
She waits, her hand over her eyes, still looking out over the ocean. She looks beautiful like that, the ocean breeze blowing faintly on the dark wisps that have escaped her hair. Her eyes have never looked more green than they do now, here among the waves.
“Oooh!” she says, pointing. “That one?”
“That’s great,” I say, giving myself a mental shake. “Position yourself…”
I get on my board, lying down, and Emma awkwardly balances herself the same way. I feel the swell of the sea, pulling my board back a few inches.
“Ready…” I call. “Go!”
The wave hits us, and I wait for just a split second, then make sure that she goes first. But she does, so I go too, launching myself toward the shore. Unfortunately, though it is super easy for me, it’s not for Emma. A few seconds into her glide, she leans too much to one side. She goes crashing off the side, kicking and screaming, and goes under the water in no time.
“Fuck.” I am quick to bail out of the wave too, plunging underwater. When I come back up, wiping at my eyes, she is floundering and spluttering. I swim towards her and reach her in a few short strokes. I grab her around the waist, lifting her.
“What the hell?” she says, shaking her head to clear it of water. She wraps an arm around my neck. “That didn’t go as planned.”
My lips curl upward. “You surfed, though. For a few seconds at least.”
It’s only then that I realize exactly how close we are, pressed together by the waves. She looks up into my eyes, droplets of water clinging to her dark lashes. I look down at the spray of freckles across her nose, at her heart shaped lips.
I could do it, I think. I could take her mouth. Explore her taste, dominate her for just a second. I know she wants it just as bad as I do.
If there was ever a moment, it’s now.
But then my surfboard bumps against my back, and the moment is gone. A flash of sadness crosses her face, but I ignore it. I’m the one who is responsible here. I’m always the one. I take a ragged breath.
“I’m going to put you down,” I say. I let her go, and she stands on her own.
“Jameson…” she starts. I don’t know what the end of that sentence is, but it can’t be anything that’s good for me.
I start swimming in. “I think we’re done for the day.”
She slowly follows me, like a sad little cloud. It starts to weigh on me, as soon as I can stand on solid ground.
I did the right thing, though. I did the best thing for both of us. The only possible thing.
I just have to remind myself of that, from now until… until I’m dead, I guess.
9
Emma
I’m walking down the sidewalk in my neighborhood, my phone pressed between my ear and my shoulder. It’s the early evening, and I have stuff going on. Unfortunately, my parents don’t really respect my time, so I’m listening to my mother complain.
“You just wouldn’t believe it,” Mom says. “I mean, there we are, at the opera of all places, and Karen Vannick had the nerve to show up. Really, I thought when she and Steve divorced, that that would be the last of her. But she was there, dressed like a complete tramp. She had the gall to look at me in my Versace dress and make a snide comment about it! I mean, really!”
“Mmhm,” I murmur. That’s all that is required for my part in these conversations. I just have to agree occasionally, and my mother keeps up her never-ending stream of complaints.
“Then she asked about how Asher is, knowing perfectly well that he’s not a part of our lives anymore. Can you believe it? She asked about that Jenna Kenner, asking about Asher’s engagement. Saying that she heard that there was trouble in paradise. It was totally ridiculous.”
“Ummm… actually, Asher broke it off. Their wedding was cancelled,” I say.
“WHAT?” Mom gasps. “Why? What happened?”
I chew my lip, then opt for the easy out. “I don’t know. You’d have to ask your son.”
She doesn’t care, though. She’s already off and running.
“If Asher had just listened to your father and I about going to Yale, this never would have happened.”
I roll my eyes. I turn the corner of my friend Cecelia’s street, switching the phone to my other ear. “Mom, Asher didn’t want to go to Yale. You and Daddy are the ones that threw down an ultimatum about it.”
“I just know that Jameson was behind Asher’s decision,” my mom says. I can actually hear her frowning over the phone. “Your brother always had a soft spot for Jameson, for reasons unknown. Actually, when your father and I found out that he was getting engaged to a woman, we were a tiny bit surprised. I thought that he was mooning over Jameson still.”
Not this again. I exhale and suck in a deep breath. My mom always jumps to homophobic bullshit whenever Jameson or Asher is the topic of conversation. I can’t get trapped in this fallacy loop again. Trust me, I know that it ends with my mother in tears and me enraged.
“You know what? I am just about to get to the house. I’d probably better let you go so I can get in the shower before I go to bed.” A bald-faced lie if I’ve ever told one, but it’s better than being stuck on the phone forever.
My mother sighs. “All right, darling. Don’t forget, your father and I are throwing a brunch next weekend. You’ll be expected to be there, with bells on. You’re the shining star of the family now.”
Yeah, but only after you drove Asher away with your ultimatum. I roll my eyes again.
“Uh huh.”
“I was thinking you would wear that baby pink Valentino gown…”
“Oh, Evie is trying to ask me something. I’ll catch you later!!! Bye, love you!” I say, hanging up.
My mom is definitely infuriating at the best of times, but at least she’s less of a control freak than my father. He sees the world as a chess board, himself as the chess master, and all of the people in his life as his pawns.
I have to live with the guilt of taking his money for law school. I’m supposed to be the perfect daughter, the perfect student When I graduate though, I will be free of their expectations.
Or that’s what I tell myself, anyway.
When I step into the yard of Cecilia’s house party, I am a little wide-eyed. She described it as being a little get together, but clearly it’s anything but that. On the porch, people are gathered around someone doing a keg stand. There are tons of people in Cecilia’s front yard, staring in twos and threes, laughing and talking.
Rap music pours out of the open front door. I can tell from here that it’s packed inside.
I hesitate, and think about going back home. But what’s at home? Nothing except for more studying.
I seriously can’t study for another second today. So I tug the hem of my short pink linen dress down and make my way up to the porch. I can feel the bass vibrating as I step inside. Cecilia’s whole house is crowded with strangers, especially the living room and kitchen. I edge through the party, looking for someone I recognize.
How is it possible that I don’t know anyone here? There’s a lively dance party going in the living room, and a mysterious red punch being ladled out by some girl in the kitchen. I accept a red plastic solo cup of punch, taking a sip.
It’s so sugary-sweet, it makes my teeth hurt. I assume t
hat the sugar is just masking the taste of alcohol, which is okay with me. Glancing around again, I make my way out the back door. It leads down to the back yard, which is every bit as packed as the front yard. Instead of keg stands though, there are some people playing beer pong on one side. The other side has people wolfing down jello shots before they take a running leap onto a trampoline, randomly screaming.
I don’t see Cecilia anywhere, which is kind of a bummer. Cecilia’s one of my high school friends that I’ve kept in touch with, enough to know that she has a huge party going on tonight.
“You look like you could use one of these!” a blonde girl says, holding out a bright yellow jello shot. She is clearly drunk, but also clearly happy. She beams at me. I can’t not trust her.
“Thanks,” I shout. “Cheers!” I take the jello, eating it in quick bites. I try not to chew too much, because the jello shots are made with something kind of noxious. I make a face, crushing the plastic container that the shot was in.
The drunk girl reaches out and pets my hair.
“You’re pretty,” she says, her cheeks as ruddy as ever. “Like… I wish I was that pretty.”
She is drunk. “Hey. I’m Emma,” I say into her ear.
“Cher,” she says with a giggle. “I’m kind of fucked up right now.”
“You’re fine,” I assure her. “You’re just drunk.”
She beams at me, nodding. I kind of long for her level of not caring. We don’t know each other from Adam, but she is petting my hair.
Maybe I should get drunk. I could pass out jello shots at this party. I could be that girl.
“Can I have another shot?” I yell.
“Yeah, good idea!” she shouts. She takes me by the hand and tows me over to a cooler where the jello shots are kept. She dips into the cooler, and comes out with a red one. “Here you go!”
I chew the red one, wincing again at the taste. I don’t know what they put in there, but it is almost eclipsed by the sugariness of the jello… almost.
“Come on. Come jump,” Cher insists, taking my hand again. She starts to run, and I do too. At the last moment before we fling ourselves onto the trampoline, she lets go of my hand.
Then I’m flying through the air, grinning stupidly. I land just after Cher does, hitting the trampoline’s surface. She squeals really loudly, and I let out a little scream as we bounce for a couple of minutes.
Eventually we scramble off the trampoline, to make room for the next person. I’m out of breath and so is Cher. We take a minute to reassemble ourselves, fixing our hair and laughing.
That’s when I look across the back yard and see Gunnar and Jameson emerging from the house. They both look like freaking models, both in head to toe all black. They look so alike for a moment, it’s almost as if they are twins.
Like a magnet, J’s eyes come straight to me, my hair disheveled and my eyes bright. He looks surprised to see me, like I can’t have any fun on my own. That thought makes my smile dim a little.
Gunnar heads over to the beer pong table, and Jameson comes toward me. He’s not wearing his leather jacket or carrying his helmet, so he must have come by the ancient Jeep he sometimes drives. Cher giggles, pulling on my arm.
“That superhot guy is coming to talk to you,” she says with a grin.
“Yeah, I think so. He’s a friend,” I tell her, blushing.
She looks at me with wide eyes. “Oh yeah. You’re going to get laid tonight.”
“It’s not really like that—” I protest, but she’s already winking and nodding. She turns away, and finds a random guy to talk to instead.
When Jameson reaches me, looking tall and forbidding, he has to lean in close to make himself heard. He accidentally brushes my hair with his hand, the gesture oddly intimate. “What are you doing here?”
His low voice sends goosebumps all over my body. I cock my head, then lean close to his ear.
“Having fun. What are you doing here?”
He looks amused. “Gunnar dragged me here. Of course, he spotted someone right away and left me. I’m glad to see you, because I don’t know anybody else at this party.”
I smile. “Yeah, I don’t really know anyone either. I just had to get out of my house and do something that doesn’t involve studying for a while.”
He looks around the backyard. “I think I need a drink.”
“Oooh! You should have one of the jello shots I just had,” I tell him. “They’re pretty strong. I already feel a little… fuzzy.”
And it’s true. Everything does seem to have a slight halo. And it might be my imagination, but I feel warmer, like I’m being wrapped up in a hug by someone much bigger than me.
Jameson makes a face. “I’m going to get a beer. I’ll be right back.”
I pout for a second, then decide to get another jello shot. I head to the cooler, opening it. Cher appears as if magically summoned.
“Hey, you shouldn’t have more than two of those things,” she yells. “They are loaded with molly.”
I freeze. “What?”
“MDMA, molly. They’re special jello shots.” She looks pleased with herself for some reason.
“Shit!” I say. “Isn’t that like… what people take at raves?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly it.” She nods along to the music.
“I… I’ve never taken any drugs!” I protest. “I’m in law school! I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”
I start to tear up. I am totally out of my depths here. I don’t know anything about drugs. Ive barely even smoked pot.
Cher hugs me suddenly. I’m a little bit at a loss for what to do. “Then you need it most of all. Drink a lot of water, okay?”
I see Jameson coming back with a red solo cup, and I pry myself out of Cher’s arms. “I think I should leave.”
I turn and run to Jameson, feeling panicked. I get close to his ear, cupping my hand to be heard. “Can we leave?”
He looks at me, at the tears in the corner of my eyes. “Yeah, of course.”
Without another word, he sets his beer down on the steps. He holds out his hand to me. I take it, feeling lost and anxious. He leads the way through the party, through the house and out to the front.
Once we are a few houses down, the music has faded enough that I can hear him again. He releases my hand, and then I stare at my hand, wondering how it can feel so… empty.
“What’s going on?” he asks, gently grabbing me by the shoulder.
I look up at him, noticing again how handsome he is. Strong cheekbones, a prominent nose, perfect brown-black eyes. Unf.
“Hey! Say something.” He prompts me, shaking me a little. I guess I took too long to answer. I smile, feeling a thousand tiny pinpricks on the back of my skull. If this is the effect of MDMA, I guess it’s not too bad…
“Ummm… the jello shots had MDMA in them, I guess,” I say. My tongue feels very weird in my mouth all the sudden.
“Whhhat?” he says, perplexed.
“I didn’t know,” I say. “But I think… I think I’m high?”
“Fuuuuuuuck. Do you feel okay?” he says. Jameson leans down, scanning my face critically.
“I think I’m fine?” I say, giggling.
“Okay. We need to get you somewhere. Somewhere that’s not public, where you can ride the MDMA out. Do you want to go to my house?”
I frown. “Asher might be there. He can’t know.”
He sighs. “It’s not like you did this on purpose.”
“Yeah, but if he comes home and finds me high, he won’t let me hang out with you.” I reach up, curling my hand into his shirt. “I want to hang out with you, now more than ever. Besides, just thinking about Asher makes me anxious.”
He makes a face. “Okay. We can go to your house. But let’s set some boundaries, here…”
I jump up and hug him, burying my face against his neck. What I crave right now, what I need, is for him to hug me. Stroke my hair, maybe even kiss me a little.
But he reaches ou
t and forcefully separates our bodies.
“That’s what I’m talking about, right there. MDMA makes you reallllly enjoy physical contact. But even though you’re high… I think that we should probably limit the touching.”
“Why?” I ask. I’m distracted by a neighbor’s dog barking. I can’t see the dog, but I want to pet it.
Jameson clears his throat. “Unless you’d rather hang out with Asher, just say yes.”
I shrug. “Okay. Can we go?”
“Yeah. I’ll just text Gunnar later,” he says. “Can we walk?”
I grin at him, tilting my head to the side. “Totally. Whatever you say, Mr. Man.”
He rolls his eyes. “Great. Let’s go.”
And with that, the two of us start down the sidewalk.
10
Emma
As I walk up the steps to my house, arm in arm with Jameson, I can’t help but grin. I wouldn’t dare say it out loud to him, but anyone who saw us right now would definitely thing that we were going back to my house to screw. Or even more than that, a bystander might assume that we’re dating.
I giggle a little at that. The idea of big, bad Jameson showing up to take me on a date is ridiculous.
…isn’t it?
“Isn’t what, Emma?” he says. I didn’t realize I was speaking aloud, and I flush. “Have you got your keys?”
“Don’t need them.” I fling the front door open. I step inside, grinning like a maniac. “Ta-da!”
He instantly scowls. “Jesus, Em. You two leave your front door unlocked all the time?”
“Yep. Evie lost her key last week. Don’t tell any big, scary men, though.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him as he closes the door behind himself.
“That’s going to have to change,” he says. “Not tonight, though. Can we go to your living room?”
“No no no,” I say, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward my bedroom. “Come in here. There’s an album that I really, really need to listen to right now.”
“Can’t you listen to it in the living room?” he asks.
I turn a corner and stop dead, making him run into me. “Ohhhh, no. There’s no sound system in there.”
