I rest at the end of the bed and pluck an old guitar I bought when I was thirteen and dreamed of being a rock star. Emily rolls her head and glances at me with barely cracked eyes. “Can you play anything else besides the opening to ‘Smoke on the Water’?”
I cock an eyebrow as I switch up and strum the first few chords of the “Mexican Hand-Clapping Song.” Emily laughs and the sound dances along my skin.
“How’s Olivia?” she asks.
“Fine.” I spit Eli’s answer.
“I asked her what type of cancer she has and she didn’t answer.”
I say nothing. The pain of discovering that we’re out of options and running short on time is still too fresh. There’s a beat, then another, and Emily talks again. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? The woman I’m closest to in the world is on the countdown clock. No, I’m not okay. “I don’t want to talk about Olivia.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Day in and day out for the past year I’ve watched Olivia deteriorate. I don’t need to talk about it when it constantly stares me in the face. I’d give everything if I could forget that Olivia is dying for at least thirty seconds, so excuse the fuck out of me if I don’t want to talk about it with you.”
Emily tugs her hair over her shoulder so I can’t see her face. Good job, Oz. Make Emily feel like shit. She’ll forever remember you as a grade-A asshole. It’s better that way. At least she’ll go home with the truth.
I grab the beer I had placed on the window ledge and Emily yanks it out of my hand. I open my mouth to tell her to give it back, but she shocks me speechless when she tilts the bottle up. Emily lowers it and her face puckers as if she tasted a lemon.
I chuckle and Emily glares at me like she wishes she had a knife.
“Never had alcohol before?”
“I’m not that naive.” She hands the beer to me. “We have parties in Florida.”
I’m sure they do, but my idea of party and her idea of party live in different zip codes. “The type where bras come off and end up on the wall?”
Emily spits out a strange sound that involves sticking out her tongue. “No one should be at that type of party.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.” I drink, thinking of how her lips had touched the rim. “Do you go crazy with pouring vodka in your slushies?”
Emily giggles and my spirits lift. “No. I’ve had a wine cooler before.”
“One?”
“Yeah.” Emily slides her mouth to the side as she morphs into shy. “I totally got light-headed and laughed at my toes for an hour.” She raises her feet for effect.
I bet Emily is a cute drunk. Not the damn sloppy ones I have a habit of ending up with. The ones that cry when they get wasted and drop every damn problem they have or think they have on me. Emily would be the dancing-in-the-sand type and I regret that I’ll never know.
“Beer sucks,” she says.
I shrug. “It’s an acquired taste.”
“So’s caviar, but I’m not eating fish eggs.” She yawns and I check my phone for the time. It’s too late or too early. Either way, Emily should be tucked safely in bed.
“I’m sorry,” she says out of the blue. “I’m sorry that I pushed you about Olivia and...I’m just sorry.”
I press the beer to my lips again and keep drinking until it’s gone. If Emily doesn’t believe I’m bad news, she will now. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry for biting your head off.”
“It’s okay. I...” She inhales deeply and wraps her arms around her knees. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone, but I understand being messed up and confused and not wanting to discuss things.”
One month. Emily’s survived over one month in my world and she’s hardly batted an eye. Granted, she’s lived in the tamer version Eli and Cyrus created, but the girl’s been away from home while she’s being stalked by some jacked-up people. I know girls who cry when they chip a damn nail. Not Emily. She’s a strong one that rolls with the punches.
“I lied to you,” I admit.
She levels her shocked eyes on me. “What?”
“At the pond, when I said that I liked you...” I rub my thumb over my eyebrow as my brain tingles with the slight beer buzz. “I more than like you. Being with you over the past month...”
I could blame my declaration on the beer, but what I’m experiencing is nothing more than a head rush and I didn’t drink nearly enough to claim stupidity. All the emotions within me collide and I choose a safer path. “You’ve been good to Olivia. And how you were with during her seiz—”
I choke up and my teeth click together in an effort to erase the image of Olivia helpless and shaking on her bed. Soft fingers cover mine and a part of me hates when I grab on to Emily’s hand and hold tight.
“I like her,” says Emily, so softly that her voice is like a caress on my skin. “Olivia is definitely crazy, but I like her. And I also like you—maybe more than like, too.”