Page 39 of For Emery

“Ah, ha! I knew it.”

My eyes cut back to her.

“You totally bagged yourself,” she said.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what I’m feeling. She keeps turning up. And now she’s all grown up…”

“And no longer off limits?” Sabrina asked.

I dragged in a breath, considering her question. Was that what was happening? Was I confused because I no longer needed to keep our relationship platonic? Or did I just hate seeing her with Flip? “I have no idea.”

“There’s only one way to figure it out.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Emery

There was a knock on my door Monday night. I crawled off my bed, gladly ditching the essay I’d been typing all evening. Raquel had taken off for the showers a while ago. She probably forgot the code again. I opened the door, surprised to see Jordan standing there. He donned a ball cap pulled down low on his head, a white T-shirt stretched across his chest, and basketball shorts low on his hips. Yum.

“Hey.” His lips tugged up in one corner, obviously noticing my surprised appraisal.

“How’d you know where I lived?”

“I’ve got connections.”

“So, you use your spot on the football team to assist with your stalker tendencies?”

He snickered and I caught yet another a glimpse of the boy I once knew. Those glimpses were becoming more frequent the more time I spent with him.

I moved forward, blocking the doorway in case he tried to come in. “What are you doing here?”

He peeked over my shoulder into my room. “It dawned on me that I’ve never seen your room.”

“Why do you need to see my room?”

“Who do we have here?” Raquel asked, stepping up behind Jordan.

He turned around. I could only imagine his delight at finding her standing there in nothing but flip-flops and a towel, her wet hair in a knot on top of her head. He moved out of the way so she could step into our room.

“Oh, you’re that football player,” Raquel said.

A smirk slipped across his lips. “Which football player?”

My heart drummed faster. What did she plan to say? Was she going to tell him what I’d told her about him?

“The hot one who made all those blocks so Flipster could throw the ball.”

“That’s me,” Jordan gloated. “And I like your nickname for the fool.”

She laughed.

“Sorry, Em.” Jordan’s eyes cut to mine. “I know he’s your guy.”

“He’s not my guy,” I said matter-of-factly.

“It does seem like he is,” Raquel added as she pulled open her drawer and removed a pink thong, obviously for Jordan’s benefit.

“I don’t care how it seems. We’re friends,” I assured them.

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