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.