Page 12 of It's Only Ever Been You

Just as she says that, some guy stumbles past us, barely avoiding spilling his drink all over her. I shoot him a look, but he doesn’t even notice, too busy laughing with a couple of other guys. I feel my jaw tighten, and I’m suddenly very aware of how crowded this place is, and how many guys are looking at Emma.

“Want something to drink?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.

She hesitates, then nods. “Sure. Maybe just a soda?”

I nod, weaving through the crowd toward the kitchen, where a makeshift bar’s been set up. There’s a mix of bottles and cans, most of it the cheap stuff that high school parties are known for.I grab a can of soda for Emma and a beer for myself, cracking it open as I make my way back to her.

But when I get there, she’s not alone.

Some guy I don’t recognize—tall, dark hair, leaning too close—is talking to her, his eyes focused on her in a way that makes something in me snap. She’s laughing, looking a little nervous but not exactly uncomfortable, and I feel this strange twist in my chest. I don’t like it.

“Hey,” I say, stepping in, maybe a little closer than I need to. I hand Emma her soda, shooting the guy a look that hopefully says back the fuck off.

“Oh, hey, man,” he says, holding up his hands like I’m the one who’s overreacting. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Catch you later Em.” He gives Emma one last smile before disappearing into the crowd, and I exhale my frustration.

“Friend of yours?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but I know I sound irritated.

Emma laughs, shaking her head. “No, just some guy who wanted to know if I’d seen his friends. He was harmless, Ethan.”

“Right.” I take a long pull of my beer, hoping it’ll dull the knot tightening in my chest. I’ve seen her talk to guys before, but tonight… every glance, every laugh, every little movement of hers is tugging at something I can’t quite explain. Like the air’s shifted, heavier somehow, and I can’t shake the feeling that everything feels different.

We find a quieter spot near the back patio, where a few people are lounging on outdoor furniture, deep in conversation. I recognize some of them—Mason and Connor from the football team, and Emily, who’s been in a few of my classes. They nod at us, and Mason gives me a grin that’s a little too knowing.

“Didn’t know you were coming tonight,” he says, raising an eyebrow, then skimming over Emma. Asshole.

“Yeah, well, here we are,” I say, shrugging. I don’t owe him an explanation, but the way he’s looking between me and Emma makes me feel like I do.

“Hey, Emma,” Emily says, smiling. “I didn’t know you were a party person.”

Emma laughs, glancing at me. “I’m not, really. But Ethan dragged me out tonight.”

“Oh, come on,” I say, nudging her. “You make it sound like I forced you.”

She grins, taking a sip of her soda. “Okay, maybe not forced. Maybe strongly encouraged?”

Everyone laughs, and for a moment, things feel normal. But then Emily leans forward, looking atEmma with that curious, slightly nosy expression she always gets. “So…are you two, like, a thing?”

I freeze, my brain scrambling for a response. I glance at Emma, and she looks just as taken aback as I am.

“No,” Emma says quickly, laughing it off. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” I add, forcing a smile. “Just friends.”

But as the words leave my mouth, I feel a weird pang in my chest. That’s a lie—not just to Emily, but to myself. Emma’s not just my friend, not anymore. I don’t know when it happened, but suddenly, the idea of her with anyone else makes me feel like I’m going to lose my mind and it shouldn’t. That would be crazy and I would lose my best friend.

I down the rest of my beer, trying to shake off the feeling, but it sticks with me, even as the conversation shifts to other things. Emma’s laughing with the others, looking relaxed and happy, and I can’t stop watching her, wondering how it would be if things were different—if I could tell her everything I’m feeling without risking everything we have. Probably just the buzz I have going on doing the talking… or is it thinking.

As the night goes on, I find myself leaning against the wall, nursing another beer, just watching her. It’s stupid, really, this knot in my chest that tightens every time some guy so much as glances in her direction. And it’s even stupider thatI can’t shake the feeling, that something between us is just waiting to break free.

At some point, someone cranks up the music even louder, and people start dancing, turning the living room into a makeshift dance floor. Emma’s caught up in it, laughing as she’s pulled into the crowd. She’s not dancing with anyone in particular, just moving with the beat, but I can’t tear my eyes away from her.

Then, almost like she feels my gaze on her, she looks over, her eyes meeting mine across the room. For a second, everyone else disappears. It’s just us, and the music, and the weight of everything I’m feeling but can’t say.

I push through the crowd, reaching her just as the song changes to something slower. She smiles up at me, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, and without thinking, I take her hand, pulling her closer.

“Dance with me?” I ask, my voice barely audible over the music.

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