Page 70 of Miles Apart
We started watchingGossip Girlover the weekend and are trying to get through at least two episodes a night. Every now and then, she cracks a joke about me liking the show. The shit is entertaining. They’d have me under the jail if people so much as farted some of that bullshit my way. Emma pretends she doesn’t like it, but I can tell she does.
Her mahogany hair whips over her shoulder when she spins toward me on the opposite side of the couch. “You thought I would be like Blair?” she asks around a mouthful of popcorn. “Blair?”
I chuckle at the daggers forming in her eyes and raise my hands. “All I know is, you were a senator’s daughter who came from money. You kinda dress like an Upper East Si—” I dodge a pillow and laugh. “Now that I know you better, I would never.”
She sips from her wineglass. “Well, if I’m Blair, you’re Chuck.”
“The fuck I am!” I almost catch a cramp rolling my neck her way. “His ass should’ve caught a few charges the first episode.” I shake my head and shovel popcorn into my mouth. “Chuck Bass,” I mumble to myself. “You saw the shit he wore to play ball on the court. Ain’t no way.”
A grin forms and tips Emma’s head back with laughter. Her eyes are closed, her lips parted to release a full-hearted melody that squeezes my chest. Emma is beautiful in whatever she wears, but now—hair down and makeup-free in a fuzzy crop top and shorts set, cackling her ass off—she’s the most gorgeous she’s ever been. Completely free and relaxed.
Coming home to this is foreign, but it’s the best Monday night I’ve had in a long time.
Home.
Emma wipes a tear and catches her breath. “You know I’m kidding. You’re more like Malik Wright fromThe Game.”
“That tracks,” I nod. “Terrence is a ding-dong like Derwin, and Justice is Girl Melanie in the flesh.” Shit, my dynamic with her is similar too. “You remind me of—”
“Do not say Tasha Mack.”
“Nah, that’s my mama—and that’s nasty, since we fuck. I was going to say Dionne, Derwin’s publicist. She made her own bread, was about her business, and took no shit off anybody.”
“Good choice.” Emma shifts back to watchGossip Girl, but my eyes never leave her profile.
My mind wanders to an episode we starred in two years ago in the hallway of our best friends’ house. What would life look likeif we were different people, people who believed in relationships and opening up enough to try?
My phone chimes on the coffee table with a text. Emma catches the message when she hands it to me, flaring her nostrils as she looks away.
Brandice
Hey, stranger. Interested in a nightcap this week?
“Big plans?” Her eyes flit to the phone in my hand.
I haven’t seen Brandice since I left her to be with Emma. But we’ve texted once or twice, which is how she knows I’m in the area.
“This is the first time Brandice is reaching out to link up,” I say. “She was the one I was with at the bar that night—”
Everything changed.
“Looks like you’ll have a redo once you get home.” Dare I say Emma looks pissed?
“Actually”—I peek at the incoming message—“Thursday. She’ll be in LA for a shoot.” My gaze swings from my phone to Emma and her tight jaw. “You’ll crack a tooth mugging me that hard.”
She squirms into her sectional and flicks her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not mugging anyone,” she huffs.
“You look jealous, kitten.”
“I’m not.”
“Sure about that?” I don’t know why I’m goading her to admit what we both haven’t. The lines between us have blurred.
“One night open for other people,” she says, reintroducing me to her guard, which is now back in place. “We agreed to it, and it’s not a problem. I might meet up with someone myself.” She returns toGossip Girland grabs the popcorn bowl.
Lying ass.
Em might think she’s running things and keeping me at arm’s length, but I see her—allof her. You have to earn her trust forher to feel comfortable enough to stay. That takes time, a gift I’m not used to giving.
