Stepbrother Billionaire(4)
“Ha. Ha.” I murmur, wanting very badly to melt into a puddle. “Yes, I know the rules. I was in eighth grade once, too.”
The group chuckles, surprised by my swipe at the queen bee. Courtney isn’t the kind of girl who gets talked back to very often. Which, in my opinion, is why she should be talked back to at every opportunity. Even Emerson cocks his head at me in something that looks faintly like admiration. Or at least, something other than generally bored disdain, which is his default attitude toward me.
“OK. So who wants to pick our first two victims?” Courtney asks, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Me! Dibs!” Riley says firmly, thrusting her hand into the air before anyone else has a chance to. A cold stab of panic rips through me as my best friend smiles wickedly.
“Great,” Courtney chirps. “Riley, you start. Who should we stick in the closet first?”
“Don’t you dare,” I mutter under my breath, “Riley, I mean it—”
“Emerson and Abby!” Riley crows triumphantly, shooting me a smile that clearly says, You know you want it. You’ll thank me for this someday.
“Oh,” Courtney replies, the corners of her pretty mouth turning down. “I mean. I guess that’s fine. If you’re into incest or whatever.”
Our classmates laugh with delight as that taboo word drifts through the air like some smoke from one of Emerson’s cigarettes. A deep pang of shame twists my core. I’ve spent many a sleepless night berating myself for still being attracted to Emerson. I’ve hurled the “i word” at myself a million times, hoping to break the spell he’s cast over me. But no dice. No matter how wrong the rest of the world might think it is, I’m crazy for this gorgeous, cool, sneakily intelligent boy. Our parents little affair can’t change that.
“Super twisted, Riley,” Emerson laughs, crossing his thick arms. “I like it.”
Courtney’s eyes flash with jealousy as she swings her gaze my way.
“Fine,” she snaps, clearly annoyed not to be heading into the closet with Emerson herself. “But you two had better make good on it. No twiddling your thumbs in there. We’ll want some proof that you actually did something. Right everyone?”
A chorus of assenting murmurs sounds off around the circle. I look around at my classmates, befuddled and humiliated.
“What the hell kind of proof do you want?” I ask, “I’m not the sex tape sorta gal.”
“Figure it out yourself,” Courtney sniffs, shoving Emerson toward me. “You can thank your bestie Riley for her suggestion.”
“Thanks bestie,” Emerson grins at Riley, coming to a stop in front of me. He makes a grand sweeping gesture, offering his arm as if we were going to a ball. “Ma’am?” he teases.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I grumble, storming past him to the closet door.
The crowd makes kissy noises as I wrench open the door and march inside with Emerson on my heels. As I step into the space, I’m taken aback. I was expecting some kind of coat closet, with barely enough room to move around. But of course, Courtney’s closet is an enormous walk-in affair, with rows and rows of clothing, shoes, and accessories lining the huge space. Her closet is fancier, and perhaps even as big, as my bedroom at home. There are golden-plated fixtures, a sparkly chandelier hanging overhead, and a decadent, velvet fainting sofa standing front-and-center.
Emerson steps up beside me as both of our gazes fall on the couch. We steal simultaneous glances at each other, then quickly look away. My cheeks flame red as I try and dislodge the sexy image playing out in my mind’s eye: Emerson laying me out across that sofa, ripping my clothes off, and having his way with me as the smooth velvet upholstery caresses my bare skin.
He, on the other hand, is probably preoccupied with counting down the minutes before this little joke is over.
“See? This is why I never come to parties,” I murmur, crossing my arms tightly across my chest.
“Really? I thought it was ‘cause no one ever asked you to,” he says wryly, taking a seat on the fainting sofa and stretching out his long, toned body. Tormenting me, is more like it.
“I would have expected you to have better plans, at least,” I reply. “We need to start coordinating with each other so this doesn’t happen.”
“What, this?” he asks, gesturing around at the closet as our seven minutes unfold.
“Not this specifically,” I say, rolling my eyes, “I just mean we should avoid seeing each other any more than we absolutely have to. Especially now that you and your mother...” I trail off, shaking my head.
“Since we what?” Emerson snaps, suddenly on the defensive, “Invaded your precious ivory tower?”
I bite my lip, intimidated by his heated tone. My dad and Deborah have recently decided to move in together. Or rather, they’ve decided that Deborah and Emerson are going to move in with us. They’re going to rent out their apartment on the other side of town and shack up in our place for the time being. One big, utterly strange, less-than-happy family. As if crushing on Emerson wasn’t weird enough for me, now the object of my unfortunate desire is going to be sleeping under the same roof, as well. College really can’t start soon enough for me.
“You have to admit, it’s kind of strange,” I murmur, averting my eyes. “Dad and Deborah’s whole thing, I mean. They’ve known each other for, what, two months? And they’re already moving in together?”