Beauty and the Running Back (16 page)

“Yep. And this would be my room,” she smiles smugly, letting
her hand travel down into Emerson’s back pocket. “My parents were nice enough
to give me the master suite and everything, their dear hearts.”

“How nice,” Riley says flatly, stepping up beside me.
Riley’s family is distinctly working-class, and the trappings of wealth have
never interested her much. She’s never held my family’s financial situation
against me, of course. But that’s only because I’m aware of the privilege that
comes along with having a family that’s “old money”. She has no patience for
the rich kids in our school, who seem oblivious to how good they have it. And
Courtney is most certainly one of that number.

“Come on babe,” the redheaded girl says to Emerson, “We’re
just about to play a little game. You girls should play too!”

“What sort of game are we talking about?” Riley asks,
stealing a nip of my booze. “Darts? Poker?”

“Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Courtney squeals, bouncing up and
down excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“Are you serious?” I blurt out.

“Sure,” Courtney replies, miffed by my less-than-enthusiastic
response. “What’s the problem? We’re doing it
ironically
.
You’re some kind of hipster, aren’t you? You should appreciate that.”

“I’m not a hipster,” I reply, “I just like to read,
occasionally.”

Emerson tries to cover up a hearty chuckle with a cough. I
glance over at him, amazed. Did I actually just make my Detractor-in-Residence
laugh?

“Whatever,” Courtney chirps, towing Emerson back toward the
group, “Join in or don’t.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I mutter to Riley, as Emerson
strides away.

“And miss your chance to wind up in the closet with your
OTL?” she grins back.

“My what?” I ask blankly.

“Your One True Love, obviously,” she says, looping an arm
around my waist and dragging me toward the group.

“Oh please,” I whisper, “It was just a crush! And besides,
it’s over now.”

“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes, “Because I didn’t just
see you fawn over his six pack for a long, steamy moment back there.”

“I didn’t fawn over anything,” I hiss, “I just—”

“OK!” Courtney chirps, rubbing her hands together and
looking around at her assembled guests. “Let’s do this. Everyone know the rules
of Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Her eyes land on me. “Abby?”

“Ha. Ha.” I murmur, wanting very badly to melt into a
puddle. “Yes, I know the rules. I was in eighth grade once, too.”

The group chuckles, surprised by my swipe at the queen bee.
Courtney isn’t the kind of girl who gets talked back to very often. Which, in
my opinion, is why she should be talked back to at every opportunity. Even
Emerson cocks his head at me in something that looks faintly like admiration.
Or at least, something other than generally bored disdain, which is his default
attitude toward me.

“OK. So who wants to pick our first two victims?” Courtney
asks, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Me! Dibs!” Riley says firmly, thrusting her hand into the
air before anyone else has a chance to. A cold stab of panic rips through me as
my best friend smiles wickedly.

“Great,” Courtney chirps. “Riley, you start. Who should we
stick in the closet first?”

“Don’t you dare,” I mutter under my breath, “Riley, I mean
it—”

“Emerson and Abby!” Riley crows triumphantly, shooting me a
smile that clearly says,
You know you want it. You’ll thank me for this
someday.

“Oh,” Courtney replies, the corners of her pretty mouth turning
down. “I mean. I guess that’s fine. If you’re into
incest
or whatever.”

Our classmates laugh with delight as that taboo word drifts
through the air like some smoke from one of Emerson’s cigarettes. A deep pang
of shame twists my core. I’ve spent many a sleepless night berating myself for
still being attracted to Emerson. I’ve hurled the “I word” at myself a million
times, hoping to break the spell he’s cast over me. But no dice. No matter how
wrong the rest of the world might think it is, I’m crazy for this gorgeous,
cool, sneakily intelligent boy. Our parents little affair can’t change that.

“Super twisted, Riley,” Emerson laughs, crossing his thick
arms. “I like it.”

Courtney’s eyes flash with jealousy as she swings her gaze
my way.

“Fine,” she snaps, clearly annoyed not to be heading into
the closet with Emerson herself. “But you two had better make good on it. No
twiddling your thumbs in there. We’ll want some proof that you actually did
something. Right everyone?”

A chorus of assenting murmurs sounds off around the circle.
I look around at my classmates, befuddled and humiliated.

“What the hell kind of proof do you want?” I ask, “I’m not
the sex tape sorta gal.”

“Figure it out yourself,” Courtney sniffs, shoving Emerson
toward me. “You can thank your bestie Riley for her suggestion.”

“Thanks
bestie
,”
Emerson grins at Riley, coming to a stop in front of me. He makes a grand
sweeping gesture, offering his arm as if we were going to a ball. “Ma’am?” he
teases.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I grumble, storming past
him to the closet door.

The crowd makes kissy noises as I wrench open the door and
march inside with Emerson on my heels. As I step into the space, I’m taken
aback. I was expecting some kind of coat closet, with barely enough room to
move around. But of course, Courtney’s closet is an enormous walk-in affair,
with rows and rows of clothing, shoes, and accessories lining the huge space.
Her closet is fancier, and perhaps even as big, as my bedroom at home. There
are golden-plated fixtures, a sparkly chandelier hanging overhead, and a
decadent, velvet fainting sofa standing front-and-center.

Emerson steps up beside me as both of our gazes fall on the
couch. We steal simultaneous glances at each other, then quickly look away. My
cheeks flame red as I try and dislodge the sexy images playing out in my mind’s
eye: Emerson laying me out across that sofa, ripping my clothes off, and having
his way with me as the smooth velvet upholstery caresses my bare skin.

He, on the other hand, is probably preoccupied with counting
down the minutes before this little joke is over.

“See? This is why I never come to parties,” I murmur,
crossing my arms tightly across my chest.

“Really? I thought it was ‘cause no one ever asked you to,”
he says wryly, taking a seat on the fainting sofa and stretching out his long,
toned body. Tormenting me, is more like it.

“I would have expected you to have better plans, at least,”
I reply. “We need to start coordinating with each other so this doesn’t
happen.”

“What,
this
?”
he asks, gesturing around at the closet as our seven minutes unfold.

“Not
this
specifically,” I say, rolling my eyes, “I just mean we should avoid seeing each
other any more than we absolutely have to. Especially now that you and your
mother...” I trail off, shaking my head.

“Since we what?” Emerson snaps, suddenly on the defensive,
“Invaded your precious ivory tower?”

I bite my lip, intimidated by his heated tone. My dad and
Deborah have recently decided to move in together. Or rather, they’ve decided
that Deborah and Emerson are going to move in with us. They’re going to rent
out their apartment on the other side of town and shack up in our place for the
time being. One big, utterly strange, less-than-happy family. As if crushing on
Emerson wasn’t weird enough for me, now the object of my unfortunate desire is
going to be sleeping under the same roof, as well. College really can’t start
soon enough for me.

“You have to admit, it’s kind of strange,” I murmur,
averting my eyes. “Dad and Deborah’s whole thing, I mean. They’ve known each
other for, what, two months? And they’re already moving in together?”

“My mom’s a crazy, impulsive bitch,” Emerson shrugs, “And
your dad seems like someone who does whatever the fuck he wants without
thinking about the consequences. What about this is surprising to you?”

“Good point,” I laugh hollowly, daring to sit on the very
edge of the couch beside him. The mere proximity of his body to mine has my
stomach twisting in anxious knots. Has it been seven minutes yet or what?

“Well,” Emerson sighs, swinging his legs around so that he’s
sitting beside me. “Are we gonna get it on now or what?”

“
Ugh
,”
I groan, giving him a shove, “Stop it, would you? Why do you get so much
pleasure out of making me miserable?”

“I don’t,” he replies, “It’s just so goddamn easy that I
can’t help myself. How the hell did you get to be such a little prude?”

“Who says I’m a prude?” I shoot back, “You don’t know
anything about my life.”

“I know that I’ve never seen you even talk to a guy,”
Emerson shoots back.

“What’re you, keeping track of my lovers or something?” I
reply. “Get a life, Sawyer.”

Of course, I don’t mind at all that Emerson’s taking notice
of my love life, paltry though it may be. As insane as it is, I can’t help but
hope that there’s some chance he could come to feel the same way about me as I
do him. Call me a dreamer, I guess. A dirty dreamer.

“What are brothers for?” Emerson grins, slipping an arm
around my waist.

My head sets to spinning as the nearness of him entrances
me. I look up at his gorgeous, sculpted face, mere inches away from my own.
I’ve never been this close to him before. I memorize the contours of his
perfect features—his high cheekbones, his aquiline nose, the scruff along his
razor sharp jaw, and of course those dark blue eyes. From this close, I can see
that there are specks of gold gleaming in his irises, and a dash of freckles
across the bridge of his nose. At last, my eyes land firmly on his full, firm
lips, half curled into a devilish grin.

His arm is still circled around my tiny waist. Am I
imagining things, or is his grip growing the slightest bit tighter? A silence
blooms over us, heavy and thick. My eyes flick back up to his. A cast of
seriousness has come over his gaze. To my amazement, I watch as his face moves
closer to mine, by barely a millimeter—

“Five minutes!” I hear Courtney call from outside the door.

“Shit,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from his perfect
face. My whole body is on fire with scattered anticipation. For a second there,
I actually thought he was going to kiss me. Talk about wishful thinking. “So.
How are we going to please the horny masses?” I ask, nodding toward the door.

“I have an idea,” Emerson says, his grin returning at full
force. “You’re going to give me your panties.”

My jaw falls open as I whip around to face him. “Excuse me?”
I splutter.

“You heard me. Hand them over,” Emerson says, punching me
lightly on the arm. “I can hold them up as proof that we did the deed, and
everyone will know that you’re not a frigid, virginal weirdo.”

“That is so messed up,” I say, jumping to my feet. I’m just
going to leave the whole “frigid virgin” thing alone for now, I decide. No use
opening that can of worms. “Let those assholes think what they want. I’ll never
have to see any of them again in a few months.”

“Come on, Sis. Do it for me, then,” Emerson says, standing
to meet me. He catches my arm, giving me a soft tug toward him. “Don’t you want
to help me protect my reputation?”

“Not really,” I reply, as he closes the space between us. I
wonder if he can see my heart pounding through my black sweater, see my knees
trembling beneath my tartan miniskirt?

“What if I ask you nicely?” he returns, his voice softer,
huskier than I’ve ever heard it. He runs his hands down my arms, not an inch of
air between our bodies. That seriousness has hardened his features once
again...or is he just fucking with me?

“Are you really capable of that? Asking nicely?” I try to
joke, but my own voice seems to have dropped a lusty octave. My breath catches
in my throat as his hands land firmly on my slender hips.

“Give me your panties,” he growls, his fingers tightening
ever-so-slightly, “
Please
.”

I stare up at him in amazement. He’s totally serious. If I
had any sense at all, I’d step away, laugh off his request, and wait for the
next five minutes to tick by. But my sense has been fully eclipsed by my want
to please him in any way that I can. Maybe he’s joking after all, but I’m not
going to let this moment slip away between my fingers. I have to show Emerson
Sawyer what I’m made of. It’s now or never.

“You have to turn around,” I whisper hoarsely.

His eyes spark with intrigued wonder. Slowly, silently, he
pivots away from me. Keeping my eyes fixed firmly on his face to make sure he
doesn’t peek, I reach up under my skirt and slip my thumbs under the elastic
band of my panties. Thank god I thought to wear one of my sexiest pairs
tonight. I don’t usually go for fancy underthings, but this black lace g-string
is an exception. My breath comes hard and fast as I slowly lower my panties
over my firm ass and thighs, balancing carefully as I ease them down. I step
out of them, wobbling just slightly, and shiver as I feel the cool air against
my sex. I can feel myself getting wet, standing so close to Emerson, bare and
ready. God, I hope he won’t be able to tell. Unless he intends to make good on
it, that is...

“Here,” I tell him, holding up the delicate lace g-string.

Emerson turns back to face me, looking taken off guard for
the first time since I’ve known him. “Damn,” he murmurs, taking the panties
carefully—almost reverently—from my hand. “There’s more to you than I thought,
Abby.”

He called
me Abby, not “Sis”
, I think to myself, a grin spreading across my face.
Maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven
isn’t such a terrible game after all...

“Now,
my
question is,” I begin, easing toward Emerson once more, “What do you intend to
do with those?”