Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) (3 page)

“How old are you, Emma?”

I contemplated lying. The one word on the tip of my tongue felt like it would burn a hole. “Fifteen,” I said honestly, wondering if this is where he drew the line.

He didn’t seem to flinch at the word I hated but he did pull away slightly. “I’m distracting you from your movie.” He smiled such a perfect smile. “What are the suitcases for?” He pointed to the corner of the hallway.

I told him about Cannon Beach and our annual getaway but couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. It was perfect. Soft. Warm. Wet, but not sloppy gross wet like I’d seen on TV—just right. I wanted to try again. But, instead, we finished the movie, or at least I did. He fell asleep next to me and I nodded off only to be awakened by my father hovering over us like a nostril-flared steaming bull.
That
was the last time I’d seen Zach Owens. I only wish I knew what he remembered about that night.

The house was nicer than I expected for this small pissant town but Ryan’s country- boy-hick truck wasn’t in the driveway. Maybe he left the paperwork. That would be better anyway, so I didn’t have to see his arrogant ass. I popped open the door to the Jeep and the never ending rain sprayed over my face. It was hard not to notice the awesome view from his porch. The Siskiyou Mountains spreading as far as my eyes could see. Yet, I refused to like this place. This ‘town’ as people called it.  Town, a noun, defined as an urban area that has a name, defined boundaries, and local government, and that is larger than a village and generally smaller than a city. Hmmm, smaller than a city?  Really???  San Francisco’s population is sitting at nearly 820,000 while this town sits at 21,000. Keep trying Ashland. You only have eight hundred thousand more to go.

I stood in the rain, staring at the houses below, seeing only roofs. I’d never seen houses stacked into the side of a mountain quite like they were here.  It was admittedly beautiful. But, in San Francisco, this mountainside would crumble with a minor quake.

I finally rang the bell. After the second ring, I started to leave then heard someone shout. A girl. My brows instinctively rose at the high pitch of the voice and I hoped for a California dime. The door flew open and a girl half my height stood there in a PAC-12 T-shirt with dripping wet hair. Not what I expected.

“
Hi,” I said.  Always wanted to be friendly to wee ones.

“Hey.”

I figured she was intimidated by my size.  Be nicer, I thought to myself. “Is Ryan here?”  My juvenile tone sickened me.

She shifted her weight to her other hip almost as if I was the one annoying her- almost. “
Nooope.”

This time it was
my
mouth that pulled into a half smile. The feminine smell of her soap or shampoo or something wafted through the air and hit me. Easy Slick, she’s way too young.

“
Oookaay. When will he be?” I really didn’t want to tolerate this little thing but then she let out a sigh as if I was putting her out, are you kidding me?

When she swiveled at the waist, her calves flexed and it suddenly hit me that maybe she wasn’t as young as I originally thought.  Just little.

She shrugged and it irritated the crap out of me that she didn’t act like most girls. If she was indeed around my age, why didn’t her eyes blink faster or why didn’t she flirt like a normal chick. Surely, she was attracted to me.  I couldn’t help but stare at her pacific blue eyes as I tried to figure her out. No makeup. Small boobs. Great legs. Terrific teeth—though no real smile yet. This intrigued me. Females were nothing, if not predictable. Jackson, Will, Travon and I all agreed on that, and though I had unwillingly moved away, our competition was still alive and well. This girl may be a perfect score.

“What?’ she nearly shouted and brought me out of my
daze as a gust of wind blew the rain under the porch and across my face. Hopefully, wiping my face would motivate her to issue an invitation inside, but no go. Evidence built rapidly that this was not a normal girl.

“May I wait inside?” I asked wondering if she was dense. She shook her head. She said negative as if it were three words and mentioned something about me being a stranger. This kid was good and obviously the sister of the punk I didn’t like. Didn’t that just up the ante?  Charm—do your thing I instructed, making mental notes as the hits just kept on coming. So I smiled and bared my fresh braces-free teeth to her—a smile most girls fall victim to.

Within a moment of the smile, I invaded her space with my much larger body. Her smell consumed me and there was no question what I wanted now, all five feet of her, if that. Yet, it was shocking how quickly that feeling faded when I spotted a hint of fear in her eyes as I grabbed the door and closed it between us. It only took a short second to register that she wasn’t tough at all, that my presence unsettled her. I could not bully this girl—ever. My guess was that living with her brother was torture enough. Instinct told me that she wanted to be loved, taken care of, and I was the one to do that, albeit temporarily. I rang the bell and opened the door once again.  This time, her eyes held no fear, only confusion. As I extended my hand to shake hers, her pouty little lips fell open. Finally, she was speechless. Baby steps. I was in the door and soon enough I’d be in her pants. Wow, her hand was tiny and I released it quickly.

“What’s your name?” I asked.

She seemed confused by the question. “Um, Emma.”

Now flustered. There was no doubt I would bang this chic.

“Umemma? That’s one I’ve never heard before.” I added a wink and as her eyes darted away, I knew she was toast. 

“Well, it’s just Emma,” she said then placed both her hands on her tiny little hips.  “And FYI, your little smile may work for most but I’m not your typical girl.”

What the…? Damn. I smiled to hide my frustration. “Ryan’s supposed to have some football camp information for me.” 

Her tiny shoulders jetted up then down as her eyes scanned the room. “Hmmm. I give. I’m
gonna go dry my hair.”

I couldn’t read this girl for anything. Most girls were putty in my hands at this point, prime for molding. This fiery little thing didn’t want anywhere near me. Yet she trusted me enough to leave me standing here.

“Go for it,” I said like I didn’t give a shit and when her eyes rolled, I wanted to laugh out loud. Did I truly annoy her or was that just for show?

Once she disappeared, I cracked my neck trying to relieve the increasing tension. I hadn’t worked this hard for a chick in a while and still wasn’t sure if this girl was worth it.  But given her size and demeanor, she had to be a virgin. In fact, I’d put money on it.  Though she was pretty stinking decent at telling me off, she was hiding something.  Every girl has a weakness; I would expose hers and use it to my benefit.

In the living room, one wall was lined with family pictures. Most were on a beach—certainly not a California one. Every frame was filled with Emma and a group of guys. Some I knew. Some I didn’t. Her brother stood over her in nearly every photo, obviously serving as protector. An even bigger challenge had certainly presented itself than just nailing her.

“Ryan still not here?” she asked as she strode quietly into the room with her hair  still wet.

“What?” she asked.

“Your hair. Thought you were
gonna dry it.”

Her rounded eyes led me to believe that she had forgotten what she went upstairs for to begin with and if I could have patted my own back, I would have. Zach had done his job, now it was just a matter of breaking down these walls that I’m sure her douche bag brother helped create.

“Yeah, well, I was wondering if you wanted me to text Ryan and let him know you’re here. That way you can get what you need and leave.”

I think she put extra emphasis on the word leave, and I couldn’t hide my smile from her any longer. Was she trying to come across mean? She had the scare factor of a declawed kitten.

“I can wait a few.” 

“Whatever, suit yourself,” she spat out and held up an index finger though I got the feeling she wanted it to be her middle finger. I wanted to assure her that I was going nowhere but she didn’t give me the time.  Yet, because of the makeup on her face that wasn’t there before and the small dab of perfume that she now wore, I knew she’d let me spend time with her.

The blow dryer blared away, a floor above me and I moved to another wall that held much older pictures. She was little and wore wire rimmed glasses. Tiny didn’t cover her size in some of them and an unexpected smile crept over my face. In every picture, someone hovered over this girl like a guardian angel. My cheeks relaxed as the smile vanished when I came to the last photo of her and her brother on a hospital bed. The paleness of her face was like nothing I’d ever seen and the oxygen tubes coming from her nose were miniscule in size. Was she sick?

“So, you’re new?”

Her voice startled me and I followed her into the kitchen. “I am. Been here a couple of months. I haven’t seen you around either.”

“Hmm. Well, obviously, I’m Ryan’s little sister.”

Duh. “I figured that much. You are in fact little. How old are you?”

The flare in her nostrils was not a good sign. “Where you from?” she countered.

A feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that this little thing had never been challenged much.  Given her history on the wall she had been catered to. I figured it was time for a challenge.

“Must be the hair,” I whispered loud enough for her to hear. Waiting…

Her eyes narrowed. I wondered if this was her angry face.  “Do you not think, I’ve not heard them all before, Tomato head, Carrot top,  Rose top, Ginger, Fireball, Pippi, Peppermint Patty—whatever. Please, please, enlighten me with a new one. ”

Holy shit! Tears stung my eyes from the uncontained laughter. She misconstrued everything I said. Typical girl. But speaking of challenges, I’d never had anyone challenge me quite like this. “A. That was a double negative. B. This has nothing to do with your hair.  C. For such a tiny
lil’ thing, you’re pretty feisty. And D.”  I positioned my chair closer to hers and I imagined her heart picked up a beat or two. 

“What’s D?” she asked sounding like a mouse.

“D. You are a strawberry blonde AND Peppermint Patty had way more freckles.”  When my index finger tapped the end of her nose, I noticed she barely had any. “Now, how old are you?”

“Tell me where you’re from first.”

As stubborn as this girl was, my heart fell just saying the words. “San Francisco.”

“So what do you think of our little city?”  She seemed so proud.

“City??” My voice rose unintentionally and for a moment I hated that because her reaction was nearly to cower.

But really, what a freaking joke. Incomparable. Distaste filled my mouth. “This isn’t a city. San Francisco, that’s a city.”

She only nodded and I think I’d hurt her feelings. It wasn’t her fault that this crappy little town was her world. If I planned to bone her just like the other girls over the past 12 months, I was going to have to focus.

“Have you ever been there?” I asked. 

“No.”

“Emma, it’s awe-some.” As the words came out, her eyes flickered and the ocean that I loved came alive inside of them. I forced myself to look away.

“Tell me,” she asked eagerly.

So, I did. Told her about my old high school, about my friends, about the food, and the things to do, but it simply reinforced why I hated it here.

“Can you hear that?” She pointed to the ceiling.

I listened.
Nickelback? “Yes.”

Her hand waved. “Stay here.”

“OK.” I pulled a piece of gum from my pocket and tossed it in my mouth. The granite was smooth as I ran my hands over the clean stone. This whole kitchen was spotless. A brown dog suddenly shot into the kitchen and introduced itself to my legs sniffing every inch.

“Hey buddy.” I nudged her ears and her tail whacked the island with a thud, thud, thud.

The music echoed over the speakers and an unexpected solace inched through me.
When the lights go down in the city….
Journey sang and she waited in the archway of the kitchen measuring my response. I wouldn’t tell her that Otis Redding’s
Sitting on the Dock of the Bay
was my favorite but this was a close second. The unfamiliar feeling inside my chest made me anxious, creasing my brow, which, by reading her expression, caused her anxiety in return. She had reached out to me through song. She had reached out to someone that she shouldn’t trust.  I got to my feet and moved toward her.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly whispered and started to make a meal of her thumb nail. A nervous habit obviously that I noted. I towered over her and she seemed intimidated. Terrifying her was NOT my objective, but it was sort of cute to see her neck at a ninety degree angle as she looked up at me.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

When her upper teeth pressed into her bottom lip my thoughts bordered on inappropriate and I backed away. The next thing I knew we were heading back into the living room to watch some movie she’d rented, and as much as I wanted to distance myself, I found it utterly impossible.