Page 9 of Only When It Breaks

“Don’t knock the classics,” I say, grinning now. “Besides, you look like someone who listens to sad indie girls whispering about death.”

She gasps,actually gasps, hand to her chest. “Excuse me. It’s called ‘aesthetic suffering,’ and it’s a lifestyle choice.”

I laugh. I can’t remember the last time I did that at one of my own parties.

She tops up her lemonade and gives me a look. “Well, this has been fun, but I need to get back to judging people silently.”

“Don’t strain yourself,” I call after her as she walks out, one hand raised like royalty dismissing a peasant.

I’m still smiling when she disappears into the crowd. Which is weird. Because Emmie’s not supposed to be funny. Or cool. Or interesting. But suddenly, the music feels too loud, and everyone else seems boring.

I shake my head and grab another drink, toying with the idea that she could be the one holding my phone hostage.

And if sheisn’t, why do I keep thinking about her whenever I read those messages?

I need five minutes away from the chaos. From Bella’s constant clinging and Austin trying to hit on Ava as part of a bet, he’s got going with Henry.

I head downstairs into the basement, where half is storage, and the other half is a den kitted out with cinema seating and a large screen. Dad and I spent a lot of time down here when I was younger. Before Mum left.

I freeze when I spot Emmie sitting crossed legged on the floor, staring at her mobile with a half-eaten bag of Skips beside her. She looks up, blinking like I’ve interrupted her. “You lost?” I ask, and she looks around the room before shaking her head. “Do you make a habit of sneaking around other people’s properties?”

She sighs heavily, placing her mobile down between her legs. “Why are you down here when you have a house full of people?”

I flop down on one of the oversized chairs. “I needed some peace.”

“I was here first,” she says with a shrug, going back to her phone.

“I didn’t realise you’d claimed it in the name of introverts everywhere.”

She grins, tossing a Skip into her mouth. “I thought you’d be off playing beer pong or spin the bottle.”

“I thought you’d be off doing whatever freaks do, like stabbing yourself with a protractor just to avoid talking to people.”

“Protractors are versatile,” she says seriously. “And Idotalk to people. Just not the ones who think sarcasm is a love language.”

I raise a brow. “So, not a fan of my charm, then?”

“Oh, I think your charm is fine,” she says sweetly. “If you’re aiming to impress Year Nine’s.”

I can’t stop the laugh that escapes. “You’re brutal.”

“And you’re easily entertained.”

We fall quiet again, and this time it’s not awkward. Just quiet. Like neither of us knows what to say, but neither wants to leave either.

“You know,” I say carefully, “if youdidhave my phone, this would be a solid opportunity to admit it.”

She doesn’t flinch. Just turns her head slowly to look at me. “Why would I want your phone?”

I shrug. “To torture me.”

She gets to her feet in one swift move and brushes the crumbs from her top. “I can do that without stealing your phone.”

I tip my head to the side. “Oh yeah, how?”

She grins, “By being me. The one girl that doesn’t actually want you. And youhateit.” Then she sweeps past me, leaving me with her vanilla scent and another smile on my face.

Chapter Four

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