by Noelle Marie
But logic didn’t always work on the heart.
Emma didn’t even care that Heath had yelled at her. She just wanted to talk to him. She longed to make sure that he was okay – as okay as he possibly could be, considering the circumstances anyway. But she couldn't quite bring herself to force her company on him when it was so obviously unwanted either. And so Emma fretted quietly, her heart feeling heavier each day that passed and she didn’t see him.
Knock. Knock.
Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sudden pounding on the door.
“Are you done yet?” Collette demanded from outside the bathroom. “We only have an hour until we have to leave and your hair takes forever to blow dry.”
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Emma called back, grabbing her bathrobe and tying its sash around her waist before exiting the bathroom.
Her eyes widened in surprised when she realized that Collette had already changed and gotten ready to go to the party while she’d been in the shower. Her shapely friend was no longer wearing a casual sweater, but rather a skin-tight black dress that ended at the knee. The lace accents of the dress gave it just the right touch of sophistication and the cut showed off her toned legs and her, well… ample bosom very nicely.
Emma realized she was staring when Collette fidgeted nervously in a rare show of insecurity. “It’s too much, isn’t it? I’ll change. I brought other clothes-”
“No!” Emma interrupted her friend mid-sentence. “No,” she reiterated more calmly. “Collette, you look amazing. Trust me, Luca won’t be able to keep his eyes or hands off you.”
Red blossomed across Collette’s cheeks. “Emma,” she hissed, “you know very well that that is not why I’m wearing…” she trailed off, probably realizing that denying such a claim was futile when Emma crossed her arms over her chest and raised a pointed eyebrow. Collette rolled her eyes. “Whatever, just let me do your hair so we can pick something out for you.”
“Fine,” Emma agreed. “As long as we’re both willing to acknowledge the fact that the entire reason we’re going to this party is so that you can cause a 'pulsation' in a certain boy’s 'member'.”
“I’m going to pretend for both of our sakes that you did not just say that,” Collette denied, grabbing Emma by the sleeve of her robe and dragging her back to the bedroom where she deposited her on the desk chair and began blow drying her damp hair.
Emma sat patiently as Collette also pulled out the curling iron she’d brought along and arranged her brown locks into soft curls around her face. After the redhead proclaimed her work to be “a masterpiece”, Emma was cajoled into giving Collette permission to look through her closet and pick out an outfit for her to wear.
“You have absolutely nothing scandalous in here, do you?” Collette asked a few minutes later, staring in disgust at an oversized fleece jacket she’d just pulled out of the closet.
Emma shrugged. “Not really.”
Collette sighed. “Well, then it’s a good thing I came prepared.” She began digging through the rucksack she’d brought with to Emma’s house. “Ah ha!” She pulled out what looked like a scrap of jean fabric. “I brought this skirt along just in case I didn’t like the dress,” Collette explained, throwing said skirt at Emma.
She deftly caught it and carefully examined the piece of clothing. “Piece” was exactly right. Emma doubted that it would cover more than two or three inches of her thigh.
“No way,” Emma said, throwing the skirt back at Collette. “If I so much as bend over in that thing, I’ll give everyone a show!”
“That’s the whole point,” Collette argued, throwing it back at her. “Just make sure you wear some cute panties.”
What followed was an intense game of hot potato. In the end, Collette threatened to wrestle the skirt onto Emma herself if she didn’t oblige. Sulking, Emma finally agreed to wear it. “Fine, but I’m picking out my top.”
“Sure,” Collette allowed, a victorious smile on full display.
A few minutes later, Emma settled on a plain pink three-quarter sleeved shirt. She unbuttoned two of the clasps of its V-neck at Collette’s insistence, and after she left a brief note for her father on the kitchen table, the two girls grabbed their coats and were out the door and on their way to Lulu’s party in Collette’s silver sedan.
And then, in no time at all, they were at the party.
Much like the Davenports, the Jennings lived a few miles out of town, their house one of a number of dwellings that surrounded a small lake. While Lulu’s parents’ rambler wasn’t nearly as grand as the Davenport’s three story home, it was still large enough and far enough out of Maple Valley to house a party.
It was a little past eight and well after dark when they found a place to park. Emma sighed at the clichéd sight that greeted her when she stepped out of Collette’s car. Despite the snow on the ground, a half dozen or so people loitered on the front lawn, most of whom were holding tightly onto red plastic cups. Emma hazarded to guess that they were filled with either cheap beer or some sort of alcoholic punch. All the lights in Lulu’s house were on and the front door was wide open, out of which blasted some sort of rap music that Emma had never heard before.
Collette looked about as enthused by the sight as Emma. Unlike Emma, however, she had a determined glint in her eye. “Let’s do this.”
Without further ado, Collette all but dragged Emma towards Lulu’s house. Being as they were both sane and sober, they bypassed the people content to hang out in subfreezing temperatures and waltzed through the front door. They abandoned their coats in a pile of others before taking a moment to observe their surroundings.
There were definitely more people in the house than outside of it. Close to fifty people had crammed themselves into Lulu’s living room and kitchen. Emma imagined that even more people were downstairs in the live-in basement. Glancing around, she spotted Luca nearly immediately… and tried not to wince at the sight.
Luca was in the middle of the living room where some sort of spontaneous dance floor had formed. While close to two dozen people were waving their arms and shaking their booties, his mop of blond hair was visible well over the crowd. Unfortunately, he was dancing with Lulu.
Well, more accurately, Lulu was dancing on him, but Emma wasn’t sure if Collette would appreciate the difference. She turned to her friend, hoping to distract her before she spotted him, but Emma should have known better. Collette’s eyes had always been drawn to Luca, and tonight was no different. The redhead stared, her shoulders hunched in obvious tension.
And then Luca saw Collette. His eyes practically bulged out of his head as they roved over her outfit. Luca’s entire focus, as a matter of fact, became centered on Collette. Not paying the least bit attention to poor Lulu – not that he had been paying her very much attention to begin with – Luca stepped forward towards them.
But Collette had already seen enough. She turned away from Luca and zeroed in on the male standing closest to them, who happened to be Percy Davenport, of all people. “Dance with me,” she demanded, grabbing his hand and forcing the bewildered boy out onto the dance floor.
“Collette-” Emma tried, but her friend studiously ignored her, her decision having obviously already been made.
Luca stood stock still on the dance floor, his gaze trailing after Collette in a mix of bewilderment and hurt. Emma tried to catch his eyes in order to hail him over and explain what had happened.
But her eyes got caught on someone else instead.
For on the opposite side of the room, sitting on a coach between two girls Emma didn’t recognize, sat Heath.
She didn't know what she expected to feel upon seeing him again, but relief – a powerful relief born of the illogical need to see him and know that he was okay – was what washed over her. At least until the girl on his right leaned in close to whisper something in his ear. Heath didn’t even turn to acknowledge the girl, but that didn’t stop an unfamiliar surge of jealousy from rushing through Emma. Her
cheeks heated at the intensity of it. Which was silly. Because he was staring straight at her, his eyes boring holes into hers from across the room.
Emma didn't know what to do. Should she walk over to him and say “Hi”? Pretend that the last time they’d seen each other hadn’t ended with broken shards of glass on his bedroom floor and the sight of his mangled back permanently branded to her brain? Should she turn away and ignore him and his intense gaze altogether?
Emma had suffered the same problem all Christmas break. She’d come close to calling or texting Heath numerous times. She’d even driven her truck halfway to his house once before ultimately chickening out. Because as much as she longed to see him, she wanted to respect his feelings even more. So she’d stayed away all break. But now he was here, right in front of her, and indecision had her feet glued to the floor.
As it turned out, she didn’t need to decide anything. Heath made the decision for her. Abruptly ripping his eyes from hers, he pushed himself off the couch. Ignoring the bewildered expressions that the girls wore on either side of him, he stormed out of the house.
Emma couldn't even bring herself to feel any satisfaction at their puzzled frowns. Because she was sure she was wearing the same one. Except she was not feeling so much bewildered as she was hurt. His blatant rejection of her stung, and to her horror, she could feel traitorous tears begin to well in her eyes. Furiously blinking them away, she ducked her head and forced her feet to move. They brought her to the kitchen, in front of a table that held an enormous bowl of punch, to be precise. A half dozen empty bottles of liquor were scattered around the bowl and it was obvious to Emma that the punch probably contained as much vodka and rum as it did juice.
Emma stared at the sloshy red liquid. She’d only ever tried alcohol once in the past and that hadn’t ended well at all. But maybe it had been a fluke. Maybe she wasn’t giving alcohol a fair chance. Maybe it would help more than it would hurt this time.
Plus, Collette was driving.
Decision made, Emma grabbed one of the many plastic cups arranged in a sleeve near the punch bowl. Before she could change her mind, she filled it to the brim with whatever was inside the bowl and brought it to her lips.
And promptly choked as the burning liquid trickled down her throat.
A hand was on her back immediately, patting it firmly as she got her breathing back under control. “You okay there?” a voice asked.
“Easy, sweetheart, that stuff’s not Juicy Juice,” another voice chimed in.
Emma eyed the two boys – or men, rather, considering both were sporting lengthy stubble on their chins – that had surrounded her. She didn’t recognize them and surmised that they must have been from the nearby undergraduate school, Springfield Community College. “Yeah, it’s a whole lot nastier,” Emma agreed, braving another sip and grimacing for her efforts.
“Don’t worry,” the one who’d patted her back assured her, “it tastes much better once you’re drunk.”
“That’s kind of the whole point,” the other agreed with a smirk.
And that’s how Emma met Spencer and Jerry.
Half an hour after they’d introduced themselves and many more sips of her drink later, Emma was starting to feel a pleasant buzz. It dulled her senses – including her sense of propriety – and allowed her to make small talk with the two men. It did not chase the memory of Heath from her mind, however, and Emma found herself filling another cup.
Time passed in a blur after that. A drunken haze settled over her as she chit-chatted with her classmates and allowed herself to flirt with Spencer and Jerry. Or smile back, at least, as they flirted with her. It seemed innocent enough. Until a warm hand was suddenly on her leg, fingers curling suggestively as they inched towards her inner thigh.
Emma pried the hand off her leg, ignoring Jerry’s – or what it Spencer’s? – disappointed expression. “Sorry,” she said, thinking as fast as her sluggish mind allowed, “it’s just been a while since I’ve seen my friend. I should probably go check on her.”
Ignoring their protests, she wandered back into the living room. She glanced around the crowded space, but didn’t see Collette anywhere. The lights had been dimmed since she’d abandoned the room for the kitchen, however, so Emma squinted her eyes and looked again, more intently this time.
And… holy crap.
There she was. Or there they were, anyway.
Collette and Luca.
Emma blinked, her mind taking a minute to catch up with what she was seeing. She stared dumbly at her two friends. They’d apparently made up and had retreated to a corner of the room. They were both sitting on a plush chair. Well, Luca was sitting on the chair; Collette was sitting on him.
And they were making out.
It was both a disturbing and heartening sight. Emma was truly delighted that her dense friends had seemingly confessed their feelings for each other. Seeing them so happy also made her feel a little bit bad for herself, however.
And then all Emma was feeling was an intense urge to find a bathroom before she peed herself.
Unfortunately, she quickly discovered that the main floor bathroom was occupied. And there was a lengthy line. Making her way to the basement stairs, Emma could only hope that that bathroom was empty.
She opened the first door she saw… to reveal what was most certainly not a bathroom. Emma cringed in disgust when she was forced to take in the sight of Gunther making out with some girl – it wasn’t Maribeth – in what she assumed to be Lulu’s bedroom. Slamming the door shut just as they spotted her, Emma quickly tried the next door down.
Praise whatever deity was watching over her, it was a bathroom. More importantly, an empty bathroom. Emma quickly attended to her business. As she was washing her hands, her eyes caught hold of her reflection in the mirror. She stared. The ends of her hair were beginning to frizz and the mascara that Collette insisted she wear was smudged beneath her eyes.
She was a mess.
What was she thinking?
Getting drunk? Flirting with boys who she had no feelings for whatsoever? This wasn’t her. Feeling alarmingly sober, Emma made a decision. Whether Collette was busy swapping saliva with Luca or not, she was going to go get her friend and ask her to drive her home. She opened the door, intent on doing just that.
But intentions weren’t always enough.
Before Emma could take more than two steps out of the bathroom, her waist was seized by a pair of strong hands and she found herself being whirled around and all but thrown into the bedroom she’d accidentally barged into minutes before.
It took a moment for her to regain her balance, and she had time to process the fact that the bedroom was now empty before she was able to turn and face whoever had decided it would be a good idea to manhandle her.
Gunther.
She really should have known.
“What do you want, Gunther?” Emma demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and ignoring the shiver of foreboding that traveled down her spine when he closed the bedroom door. He turned to face her, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“Why, isn’t it obvious? I want you, of course.”
Really?
Irritation had Emma rolling her eyes. “Well, I don’t want you,” she said bluntly, not at all in the mood for Gunther’s demented flirting. She stepped forward towards the door – the room’s only exit, not counting the window – but Gunther quickly blocked it off with his large body. “Aw, don’t be like that, Emma. You don’t have to hide your attraction to me anymore. I ditched Maribeth over break.” He put a consoling hand on her shoulder.
And just like that, Emma had had enough. She didn't know if it was the alcohol still makings its way through her system or the fact that the only person she could ever recall being attracted to was Heath, but Emma was done.
She was done with this night and she was definitely done with the asshole in front of her.
“Get your hand off of me,” she snapped at Gunther, not at all considerate of
his feelings like she usually tried to be. “I don’t understand how anyone could want you. Not even Maribeth. You’re nothing but a pretentious, empty-minded pig who’s so stuck on himself that he can’t even process the fact that the girl in front of him thinks he’s absolute scum.”
Instead of releasing her shoulder like she commanded, the weight of Gunther’s hand became heavier as she ranted at him. By the time she was finished, his fingers were digging into her shoulder like talons. She tried to shake his hand free, but his grip on her remained firm, his free hand joining the first to clasp her other shoulder and hold her in place.
“I said to get off of me!” she demanded.
Gunther leaned down until his face was level with hers, his nose only a few inches away from her own. He was no longer wearing his signature smirk, but something dark was dancing in his eyes. “That’s not what you were saying last time.”
Gunther’s hot breath hit her full on the face and she nearly gagged at the smell of liquor.
“Well, forgive me for not remembering considering the circumstances,” she shot back bravely despite the dread beginning to pool in her belly.
Gunther grinned, the blinding whiteness of his teeth not quite disguising the fact that his top incisors were crooked. “You were so complacent,” he goaded her. “Lying there and letting me touch you wherever I wanted.” He leaned in even closer. “Letting me put my mouth on you wherever I wanted.”
Emma’s belly clenched and she suddenly felt the urge to wretch. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, Gunther’s callous words, or a mix of both.
“That’s because I was practically unconscious,” she managed to reply, but her voice was barely louder than a whisper. Cold fear had replaced the hot anger she’d been feeling mere moments ago.
Gunther had the nerve to laugh at her. “Maybe, but also oh so pretty.” He removed one of his hands from her shoulders and brushed a thumb over her bottom lip.
Emma didn’t waste the opportunity. She bit the digit, digging her teeth into Gunther’s thumb.
He yelped, ripping both his hands away from her. Emma immediately attempted to dash past him, but he was able to latch onto the back of her shirt. He gave the material a vicious yank and she stumbled backward onto the floor, landing hard on her rear.
