Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1) (23 page)

“What, you would have beat him up for me?” I tease, trying
to force a little bit of levity into my confession.

“For starters,” Emerson says resolutely.

“That wouldn’t fix anything,” I reply. “Even if I’d told
someone, no one would have believed me. I only would have gotten a reputation
for being a lying whore at school. With his popularity, his family’s reputation
in town...I wouldn’t have stood a chance. I’d rather get to leave this place
behind and forget about every one of these assholes than give them the
satisfaction of dragging me through the mud.”

“I just...I wish there was anything I could do for you,”
Emerson says, “To make things better. Anything.”

“This is a pretty good start,” I tell him, giving his hand a
squeeze. “We can’t change the past, you know. But we do get to decide what the
future looks like.”

“Right,” he says softly, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“You’re right.”

The sky is just starting to lighten overhead as we make our
way back inside. We have school later today, as mundane as it is to think of.
We pause at the top of the stairs, just before peeling off toward our own
rooms. Emerson lays his hands on my bare upper arms, looking at me intently.

“Thank you for telling me everything,” he whispers, “It
means so much that you can trust me with that.”

“I’d trust you with anything,” I reply, taking his face in
my hands. Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss him earnestly, swiftly. This time, he
doesn’t hold what I want just out of reach.

We step away from each other and dart into our rooms. As my
face hits the pillow at last, I realize the enormity of everything that’s come
to pass in these last 24 hours. The diner incident. The impromptu date night
and steamy make out session with Emerson. Dad and Deb’s big announcement. My
confession to Emerson. Our agreement for my eighteenth birthday.

“Man,” I sigh, drifting off to sleep, “I’d better give this
to Riley in small doses, or else she’s going to lose her shit. Permanently.”

Chapter Six

* * *

Sure enough, my best friend is flabbergasted and delighted
when I give her the scoop of all that’s gone down with me since last we spoke.
We’ve decided to spend gym class huddled at the top of the football field
bleachers, now that our teacher has given up on trying to make us participate
in class. It’s a good thing, too, because the squeal that Riley emits when I
let her in on my and Emerson’s plans for Saturday would be enough to burst any
unaccustomed eardrums.

“What the fucking fuck?!” she shrieks, shoving her hands
through her black curls. “This is too much. In the best way possible. Where is
it gonna go down? What are you gonna wear? What if the sex is just too good and
you have to rush off and elope just to beat your parents to the punch so that
they’re the fucked up ones? What if—?”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Tiger,” I laugh, “Neither of us
expects this to be a long term thing. It can’t be, with our parents getting
married. We’d probably hardly even see each other after graduation, anyway,
even if they weren’t tying the knot. This is a onetime thing. A gift to
ourselves. Please don’t get your hopes up for some happy ending.”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” she scoffs, “My
imagination can wring a happy ending out of any situation. I’m holding out hope
for you two.”

“I wish I had your optimism then,” I laugh. “Really, I do.”

“And I can’t believe you told him about...you know,” she
says, growing somber. “You must really trust this guy, huh?”

“I know it’s crazy, but I really do,” I tell her. “It might
blow up in my face and ruin me for life, but hey, nothing’s been able to ruin
me yet. So, I like my chances.”

“See? You’re plenty optimistic,” Riley says, raising an
eyebrow. “Well. Optimistic-ish.”

Later that evening, I’m curled up on the couch going through
some mind-numbing calculus homework. I have my headphones in, trying to drown
out Deb and Dad’s pre-wedding chatter with some Kings of Leon. They’re huddled
over the kitchen table, going over the last-minute plans for their
spur-of-the-moment wedding ceremony and honeymoon. I can’t even think about how
excruciating it will be for Emerson and I to be alone here for the whole week
of their honeymoon, unable to touch each other ever again. Maybe Riley will let
me crash at her place. Or I guess I could just invest in a chastity belt.

“Hey honey!” Deb chirps happily as Emerson strolls in
through the front door. I look up as he enters and tug out an earbud, in case
we’re all about to have a family meeting.

“Hi Mom,” he replies shortly. To my surprise, he makes a
beeline to where I’m sitting on the couch and plops down next to me. I feel
unaccountably nervous to be near him in our parents’ presence. What if they can
sense what’s gone on between us?

But of course, they’re oblivious to the end. For once, their
narcissism is working in our favor.

“Our Best Man and Maid of Honor, here together,” Deb goes
on, clasping her manicured hands in elation.

“When did
that
get decided?” I ask under my breath.

“Don’t look at me,” Emerson replies, “It’s the first I’m
hearing of it.”

“We’ll need you kids up bright and early on Sunday morning,”
my dad calls over to us. “We’ve got the justice of the peace booked from noon
until half past. Gotta make it snappy.”

“How romantic,” I observe.

“And guess what else,” Dad goes on, his cheerfulness
dwindling just a hair, “Grandma Jillian and Grandpa Frank are going to be here
to celebrate.”

“Really?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. My grandparents, Frank
and Jillian Rowan, adore me, but their relationship with my dad is rather
spotty. Grandpa Frank is pretty critical of my dad’s history of “freeloading”
off their old money.

“They insisted,” my dad smiles tightly.

It’s actually something of a comfort that Dad doesn’t get
along with his parents, either. Just goes to show that it runs in the family.
Grandma and Grandpa have been supporting our little family since I was born.
They really adored my mom, Sandy, and pretty clearly thought she was doing my
dad a favor by sticking around. Most of the money for my schooling, clothing,
and extracurriculars still comes from them. They’ve even offered to pay my way
through college. Well, whatever I can’t cover with scholarships, that is.

“Well. I’ll be sure to get to the church on time,” Emerson
says with sarcastic enthusiasm. “But I won’t be around much beforehand.”

“What?” I ask, whipping around to face him. What the hell is
he talking about? He
has
to be around.

“What do you mean, Emerson?” Deb presses her son.

“A friend of mine is throwing me an eighteenth birthday
party at his parents’ beach house this weekend. A whole bunch of people are
going to be there,” Emerson says casually.

“Is that so?” I whisper, my stomach flipping over. He’s
ditching me, and our rather important plans, to hang out at the beach?

“Oh...Well, that’s nice!” Deb smiles. “You’ve always been
such a popular boy, Emerson. It’s good that you’ll be with your friends on your
birthday.”

“Uh-huh,” Emerson says, examining his fingernails.

“Guess it’ll just be the three of us celebrating
your
birthday then, Abby,”
my dad says.

“So it would seem,” I reply, glaring at Emerson. I can feel
a hard knot forming in my throat. Was he just messing with me last night, when
he told me that he wanted me? Has he been telling all his friends about how his
pervy almost-stepsister secretly wants to jump his bones? I can’t believe I let
my guard down. I should know better than to trust anyone at all.

“Actually, you know what?” Emerson says, finally shifting
his gaze my way, “My friends probably wouldn’t mind too much if you tagged
along, Abby. I’ve got a spare seat in the car.”

“You...I...What?” I stammer, uncomprehendingly.

“Oh, you should go, Abby!” Deb says enthusiastically, “You
don’t want to hang out with us old farts on your birthday. Go have fun with
Emerson and his friends! Don’t you think she should, Bob?”

“Sure,” my dad says, “Sounds like it could be a fun time for
you kids.”

“What do you say, Abby?” Emerson asks. There’s a glint in
his blue eyes, a spark of secrecy. I don’t quite know what he’s up to, or why
he’s scrapped our plans for the weekend, but anything would be better than
being stuck here alone with our parents on my birthday.

“OK,” I say flatly, leaning back against the couch.
“Sounds...great.”

“As long as you’re on time for the wedding,” my dad reminds
us warningly.

“Super,” Emerson grins, snatching away the bag of Milano
cookies I’ve been noshing on. “We’ll leave tomorrow after school. Get as much
out of the weekend as we can.”

“Sounds good,
Bro
,”
I say, glowering at him as he steals my snack.

“Oh, isn’t that just so precious?” Deb grins, as Emerson
disappears upstairs.

I watch his retreating back, my mind reeling. I’m hurt, and
confused, and incredibly disappointed about our plans being scattered. How can
he think it’s OK to just blow me off like this, after everything I shared with
him last night? It doesn’t make any sense. He seemed just as eager to have
some...
alone time
together as I did. What the hell gives?

My concentration has been absolutely demolished. There’s no
way I’m getting any more homework done today. Unwilling to listen to my
parents’ sickly-sweet chatter, I head up to my own room, lock the door, and
whip out my battery-operated boyfriend. If I’m not going to get any action this
weekend after all, I’d better stock up on the self love every chance I get. I’m
well accustomed to taking care of myself, anyway.

* * *

Still smarting from Emerson’s dismissal, I leave for the
school the next morning without even sticking around to wish him a happy
birthday. I halfway expect the rest of the student body to burst out laughing
as I hurry into school, convinced that Emerson will have spread the word about
what a dramatic weirdo I am.

But as usual, my entrance into homeroom goes unnoticed by
all my peers save Riley. My best friend waves me over, noticing at once that
I’m in a terrible mood.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, as I sit down beside her.

“Oh, you know,” I sigh, “Just everything in the entire
world.”

Without a word, she takes my hand and tows me toward the
classroom door. Our teacher, a beleaguered, balding man in his forties, looks
up from his game of computer solitaire as we march past.

“Excuse me,” he says testily. “Where do you ladies think
you’re going?”

Without missing a beat, Riley spins around to face him,
plants a hand on her hip, and says, “We both just got our periods
simultaneously. They’re super heavy too. Like, horror-movie level. So we’re
gonna go take care of our Woman Issues together. OK? Bye!”

The teacher’s face drains of color as we traipse out of the
room and slam the door behind us. The rest of our schoolmates are in their
classrooms already, so we’re all alone as we beat a quick path through the
halls and hole up in one of the girls’ bathrooms. We squeeze ourselves into one
of the larger stalls and settle down for a good long talk. Riley cracks a
window so that she can enjoy a gossip-session cigarette, and I tell her about
Emerson’s surreptitious change of plans for the weekend.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” she says, putting her smoke
out on the windowsill.

“Tell me about it!” I exclaim, letting my head fall back
against the tile wall.

“There’s got to be more to it,” she says resolutely. “Why
would he all but profess his love for you one night—?”

“He professed his wanting to bone me,” I correct her, “Not
his love.”

“Right,” Riley says, rolling her eyes, “Why would he profess
his
whatever
, only to
leave you high and dry? Doesn’t follow.”

“You’re the expert on man-brains,” I reply, “You tell me
what I’m supposed to make of all this.”

“Just wait it out,” she tells me, resting her hands on my
shoulders. “I’m sure there’s an explanation, here.”

Having unloaded some of my frustration, I feel like I can at
least make it through the rest of the day without exploding. We’ll see how I
feel once I’m cooped up in some beach house with a bunch of Emerson’s buddies.
As I step out of the girl’s bathroom with Riley right behind me, I very nearly
crash into a wall of person that appears out of nowhere.

“Christ,” I mutter, stepping out of the way just in time.
“Watch where you’re—”

“There you are,” a very familiar voice says. “I was looking
for you.”

I glance up only to find Emerson’s blue eyes looking back at
me. I do my best to tamp down my automatic excitement at seeing him. Can’t let
him get me all riled up, now.

“Oh?” I say, feigning indifference. “And why were you
looking for me?”

“Because we’re getting out of here,” he replies, as if it’s
the most obvious thing in the world. “Right now. Let’s go.”

“I thought you said we were heading out
after
school?” I reply,
even more confused.

“I say a lot of things,” Emerson shrugs, “But right now, I’m
saying that you and I are getting in my Chevy and blowing this pop stand. What,
are you afraid to miss math class or something, Miss Rowan?”

“Don’t be an ass,” I mutter. “If you’re so hell-bent on
leaving now, fine. It’s your freakin’ birthday, after all.”

“That’s the spirit,” he grins, turning on his heel. “Let’s
go, Sis.”

He walks away toward the student parking lot, and I turn to
stare at Riley, bewildered.

“What are you waiting for?” she whispers, giving me a little
push, “Go with him!”

“All right, all right,” I mutter, and set off after Emerson.

I’ve never straight-up ditched school before, but I can’t
let him see that I’m nervous about this little operation. Struggling to appear
cool as a cucumber, I duck through the front doors on his heels and hurry over
to his Chevy. Holding my breath as I slide into the passenger seat, it occurs
strange to me there’s no one else hitching a ride with us. I thought we’d be
transporting at least a couple of Emerson’s meat head friends to the beach with
us.

Emerson steers the Chevy out of the school parking lot, and
for a moment it seems that we’re totally in the clear. That is, until the
security guard at the front gates looks up from his crossword puzzle with a
scowl.

“You might want to duck down in your seat a little,” Emerson
tells me.

I obey, without daring to ask why. The security guard
lumbers out of his hutch, signaling for us to stop. Emerson eases up on the gas
as we approach, but just as we’re coming up on the school guard, my reckless
companion floors it. With a rabid whirr of the engine, we fly past the baffled
guard and swing out onto the main road out of town. I swallow down a terrified
yelp as I watch our school shrink behind us in the rearview mirror.

“Desperate times, right?” Emerson laughs, slapping the
steering wheel with his palms.

“I don’t understand why you’re so desperate to get to some
stupid house party,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “Even if it
is
in honor of your birthday.”

Emerson raises an eyebrow at me, an amused grin spreading
across his face. “Holy shit, Abby,” he crows, laughing at my surly expression.
“You are, hands down, the most gullible person on the planet. Did you seriously
think—?”

“What?” I ask, sitting up a little straighter, “Did I think
what?”

“Did you seriously think I was going to blow off what we
planned for some stupid birthday party? Damn. I must be a better liar than I
thought,” he chuckles, pulling out a cigarette.

My heart inflates like a helium balloon as I catch his
drift. “You mean,” I breathe, “We’re still on? For...?”