Play Safe (Make the Play #1) (2 page)

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Looks like I’ll be driving both of you home.”

“It does appear that way, doesn’t it?” I groan.

Emmy hasn’t said a word since we dropped off Ashley. She sits in the passenger seat, staring out the window, absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and her lips curl downward. Cal constantly teases his sister about how talkative she is. He says that it’s easy to tell when Emmy’s upset. It’s when she’s quiet. As I drive through the streets of Prairie Creek under the backdrop of night, I miss Emmy’s stories. I miss her laugh. I miss her smile. Sure, I’ve often joked about how annoying it is that she talks nonstop, but honestly I find it soothing. I’ve gotten used to it. Besides, it’s part of who she is. This silent, sullen girl beside me isn’t Emmy at all.

Anger thrashes in my veins when I think of the cruel things that asshole said to her tonight. It makes me glad I decided to attend the party after all. When I found out Cal wasn’t going, I figured I’d skip out too. But at the last minute I changed my mind. I didn’t have anything better going on anyway. The minute I saw that loser yelling at Emmy, I knew I’d made the right choice. If Cal wasn’t there to protect her, then it was my job to do it. That’s the way it’s always been. I have Emmy’s back – for Cal’s sake.

At least that’s what I tell myself. But deep down I know it’s more than that.

When I glance over at Emmy, her gaze is fixated upward at the stars. My lips tug at the corners. “How many so far?”

Her head snaps in my direction, and she knits her eyebrows together. “What?”

“How many stars have you counted?” I press my foot on the brake, slowing as we near a stop sign.

“Twenty-seven,” she speaks softly. “How did you know that’s what I was doing?”

“I know a lot about you, Emmy.” She has no idea how much. I know she thinks when I look at her I only see my best friend’s little sister, but she’s wrong. I see so much more than that. Peering over at her, my gaze catches on the jagged scar weaving around her thumb. The memory of how she got it leaps into my mind.

Cal and I were in middle school and we were headed up to the park to throw around the baseball. Emmy begged her mom to let us take her. On the walk there, we passed a stray dog. Cal stuck out his arm to protect Emmy from it, but she brushed his hand away.

“He’s not dangerous,” Emmy protested, moving around her brother. She was like that. Always stubborn. Always independent.

“Emmy,” Cal warned.

“Cal,” she said with a smile. “It’s fine.” As she moved closer to the dog with her hand extended, a low growl erupted from its mouth. I stiffened. Cal leapt forward, but it was too late. The dog had chomped down on Emmy’s thumb. Luckily it only grazed the skin before Emmy yanked her hand back. As Cal scared the dog away, I rushed to Emmy. She bit her lip, her face the picture of bravery. Her thumb was bleeding and looked like it hurt, but she never cried.

“I told you to leave the dog alone,” Cal muttered when he returned to us.

“Sorry.” Emmy lowered her gaze to her scuffed tennis shoes. A warm breeze whisked over us, causing her blond hair to lift from her shoulders.

“Just promise you’ll listen to me from now on,” Cal pressed.

“Okay,” Emmy promised.

“Hey,” I say to her now as I pull up to the curb in front of her house. Sliding my hands off the steering wheel, I angle my body toward hers. Then I reach out and gently touch her scar. “Remember when you got that?”

“How could I forget? I wear the reminder every day.” Light from the streetlamp slices across Emmy’s pale skin, giving the illusion that her face is glowing. She always reminds me of an angel with her light features and wide innocent blue eyes, but she looks the part even more so tonight. Except for the sadness. That’s new.

And I don’t like it one bit.

“You didn’t keep your promise,” I tell her.

“Huh?” Her eyebrows raise.

“To Cal. You promised you would listen to him, but you didn’t. At least not when it came to Josh.”

She shakes her head, giving me the exasperated look I’ve grown familiar with over the years. It’s funny. There are times I think that Emmy enjoys the attention and protection I give her. Other times it’s like she wishes I’d leave her alone.

“That’s completely different,” she says, her tone hard.

“How so?”

“Well, for one, I’m not a little kid anymore.” She tucks an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear, exposing her slender, milky white neck. My gaze slides down her smooth skin all the way to her tight-fitting top before I can stop it.
Yeah, no crap she’s not a kid anymore.
I’d have to be an idiot not to notice that. “And for two, Josh is not a stray dog.”

I can’t help it. I laugh.

Despite her best efforts, her lips curve upward a little. She swats me in the arm. “Shut up.”

“You’re the one who made the comparison.”

“It wasn’t a comparison. I was saying that they’re not the same.”

“Ah, is that so?”

She cocks her head to the side and pins me with a glare. “Look, I know you hate Josh because of everything with your mom, but--”

“That’s not true. I don’t hate Josh because of that,” I say honestly. “None of that was his fault. I hate him because he’s an ass. But mostly I hate the way he treats you.”

“Stop.” She sighs loudly.

“Stop what?”

“Stop playing big brother. You already did your duty for the night.” She shrugs. “It’s over now. I’m safe. I’m home. No need to worry.”

Her words stop me cold. “This isn’t some kind of job for me. I helped you because I wanted to.”

“I know.” She smiles, and I wonder if I misread what she was saying earlier. “You’re a good friend to Cal.” I open my mouth to explain that I didn’t do this for Cal, but she continues before I can. “And speaking of Cal, can you please not tell him about tonight? He’s not exactly Josh’s biggest fan. I don’t want to make things even more strained between them.” She bites her lip. “I mean, it’s already awkward enough when Josh comes over and stuff…”

My chest tightens. “You’re not seriously going to keep seeing him, are you?”

Her shoulders bob up and down. “I don’t know. Maybe. Depends on what he wants.”

“What
he
wants?” I snap. “So, let me get this straight. The guy treats you like shit in front of all his friends, and now he gets to choose if you two stay together. Seems like you should be the one holding the cards right now. Hell, the way I see it, the guy needs to come crawling back and begging you to forgive him.”

“He didn’t mean what he said. He was drinking. Besides, it’s not like he was totally off base. I
was
acting crazy.”

My mouth drops. I’m dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? The guy’s a jerk, Emmy. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You weren’t there the whole time,” she explains. “And I don’t want to get into the entire thing. It’s embarrassing. But I never should’ve shown up tonight. It was his night with the guys, and I should’ve just let him have it instead of acting like a needy girlfriend.”

I snort. “Do you hear yourself? It’s like the dude brainwashed you or something.”

Anger flashes in her irises, like a light clicking on. “Excuse me?”

“Josh should be thanking his lucky stars that a girl like you wants to be with him, not the other way around.”

Emmy rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s not like guys were knocking down my door before he asked me out.”

“That’s ‘cause Cal and I were guarding it.”

She giggles. “Nice try.”

“It’s the truth.” I scoot forward, lifting my hand to touch her face. The minute my skin touches hers, I’m startled.
What am I doing
? Sure, I’ve daydreamed about touching Emmy, but I never planned to act on it. I need to yank my hand back, to pretend I never touched her to begin with. But not before making one thing perfectly clear. She needs to hear the words I’m about to say. “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”

Pink stains her cheeks. “You have to say that. It’s like a big brother policy or something.”

She always does this – treats me like an extension of Cal. But I’m not. I’m my own person, and my feelings for her are not brotherly.
Trust me
.

“Would you stop?”
To hell with it.
I curve my hand around her cheek. “I’m not your brother. I don’t say things because I have to or because I think of you as my little sister. I say them because I mean it, okay? So stop second guessing me.”

Her gaze crashes into mine. “Okay,” she practically whispers.

“You’re beautiful and smart, and capable and funny.” My fingers slip beneath her silky hair. The strands tumble down my arm. It’s better than any daydream, and now that I’ve gotten a taste of it, I’m not stopping now. “You need to be with a guy that makes you feel that way. A guy who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. A guy who won’t take you for granted.” She flutters her eyelashes and leans forward. Her lips part slightly, warm breath escaping. It does something to me. Stirs my heart in a way that’s terrifying.

If you had told me a year ago that Emmy would make me feel this way I wouldn’t have believed you. In fact, I might have even told you that you were ridiculous. Disgusting even. I never thought of Emmy that way. Not in the kissing or touching kind of way. That would be like incest or something. She’d always been like my little sister.

Until she wasn’t.

I remember it perfectly – the day Emmy went from being Cal’s gangly little sister to incredibly hot chick who I couldn’t stop thinking about. It was after I returned from a three-week vacation with my mom last summer. Cal texted me the day of my return and invited me to the lake with he and Emmy.  I imagined that it would be a day like so many others. We’d splash Emmy, maybe throw her in the water a couple of times. She’d giggle and chase us, and probably end up getting on our nerves at some point. But I wasn’t prepared for how much she’d changed since the last time I’d seen her in a bathing suit. I mean, I saw Emmy all the time, but I guess I wasn’t really looking. And I hadn’t seen her in a bathing suit since the previous summer.

I’ll tell you another thing. I sure wasn’t expecting her to be in a bikini. In past summers she’d always worn a one piece – some weathered speedo that kept everything covered. But not this day. This day she wore a skimpy red bikini.

However, it wasn’t only her body that caught my attention. It was everything. Her silky hair, her heart-shaped lips, her confidence. She’d always been pretty, but now she was hot. And the way it affected me scared me to death.

Ever since that day I’ve been careful around Emmy. I’ve kept my distance more than usual. I’ve tried my best to keep my thoughts pure. But now that she’s sitting here all vulnerable and acting like she wants me to kiss her, it’s too much. My thoughts are running wild, and there’s no reigning them in. When her eyes meet mine once again, I practically groan aloud.

I can’t back down from this. Not now. I should’ve known the minute I touched her cheek that I wouldn’t be able to maintain self-control. I tilt my face, lining my lips up with hers. Giving her one last chance to back out, I pause momentarily. But she doesn’t move. She barely breathes, and I realize she wants this too. This spurs me on, and I softly, tenderly, press my lips to hers. They feel like I thought they would – soft, supple, moist – and taste like fruit-scented lip-gloss. Emmy has a thing for smells. Fruity ones mainly. Stepping into her bedroom is like walking into one of those lotion shops in the mall. She constantly burns candles and reapplies scented lotions. It drives Cal nuts. And truthfully, it used to bother me too. Now I dream of it. I fantasize about her apple lotion and cherry lip-gloss. And now I know how it tastes. It’s as delicious as I thought it would be.

Sliding my tongue out, I lick along the seam of her lips until she parts them. As my tongue slips into her mouth, her arms wrap around my middle. I bring my other hand up to cup her face and draw her closer. There is a desperation in the way she responds to my kiss, like she’s using it to erase all the pain from the evening. And I gladly let her. I deepen the kiss, my fingers massaging into her hair, tangling into the strands. My body heats up as her hands rake up my back, as her tongue melds with mine. We don’t let go. We hold tighter. And I wonder if Emmy has wanted this as badly as I have.

As our lips move in sync, it hits me that this is Emmy. This is a girl I know inside and out. I’ve tugged at her pigtails, chased her around the yard, and held her in my arms when she was hurt. I know every expression she makes. I know the best moments of her life, and I also know the worst.

And that makes this so much more special.

It’s also the reason I have to stop it.

Frantically, I tug my lips from hers. The minute the cold air hits them, I feel the emptiness. I think of kissing her again, but resist the urge. As much as I want Emmy, I can’t do this.
We
can’t do this.

As if in response to my thoughts, I look past Emmy’s shoulder. And standing on the sidewalk is the reason this will never work.

“Cal,” I mumble.