Page 8 of For Emery

“Is Lacy your girlfriend?” she asked.

Yup. There it was. “Lacy?”

She nodded. “I saw you with your arm around her at school today.”

I sighed. “What’s this really about? Because if it’s me and you, you know regardless of who I date, you’ll always be my favorite girl.”

“So, you’re dating her?”

“What? No. I just meant...I don’t know what I meant.”

A long silence descended on my room.

“Is she your favorite girl too?” Emery asked.

“It’s complicated.”

“I can keep up.”

I laughed to myself. Things were becoming increasing difficult now that Emery and I were both in high school together. She was in my bed nearly every damn night and I couldn’t touch her in that way. Then I had girls at school—girls my own age—throwing themselves at me now that I’d filled out and could actually play football like the college-bound recruit I was.

But, was that what I wanted? Did I want girls who only wanted me for who I was or who I could someday be? Honestly? I had no fucking clue.

One thing I was sure about was my feelings were all over the place when it came to Emery. When it came to other girls. When it came to what I wanted. I was two weeks away from being eighteen, for Christ’s sake. I shouldn’t have been so torn over right and wrong.

“Have you taken her on a date yet?” Emery asked. “Because if you tell me you took her on a boat which is my dream date, I might need to kill you.”

“No, I didn’t take her out on a boat,” I said.

“Have you kissed her yet?”

“Emery,” I groaned.

“Did you use tongue?”

“That’s it.” I tightened my arms around her and rolled onto my back. Her back stayed pressed to my chest while her bare legs flailed above her.

“What are you doing?” she giggled.

“Trying to get you to stop talking.”

She burst into full-blown hysterics which caused me to laugh. We’d done this long enough to know we needed to keep our voices low so my parents couldn’t hear us.

Eventually, our laughter subsided. But I had a good hundred pounds on her, so I knew she couldn’t get loose unless I relented. I did just enough for her to turn, twisting in my arms so she lay on top of me with her face mere inches from mine. This closeness was clearly natural for us. We’d shared a bed for six years.

But gone were the big awed eyes when she looked at me—like I was her very own knight in shining armor. Now her heavy-laden eyes showed want. Her unsteady breaths held need. “If you don’t want to talk,” she said. “Is there something else you’d rather do?”

My dick sprang to attention, pressing itself between her thighs.

Fuuuuuck.

“Why haven’t you ever tried to kiss me?” she asked.

Unable to look her in the eyes, my head dropped to the side. “Emery.”

“I’m serious, Jordan. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“About what?”

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