Be the Girl(63)

The basement is finished and warm—two things that the dungeon in Uncle Merv’s house is not. On the right is a closed door leading to Mark’s office. Around the corner on the left is a family room with an impressive flat-screen TV mounted on the wall and a lumpy chocolate-brown sectional that has probably catered to a lot of lazing kids over the years. The kind of couch that, once you sink into it, you have a hard time pulling yourself out.

Deep, gray walls, a soft beige Berber carpet, and mismatched tables fill the rest of the space. Furniture that has seen better days—pieces that Heather and Mark won’t fuss over spills and scratches. All in all, it’s the perfect lounging area for teenagers.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Cassie has already burrowed into the corner of the sectional beneath a woven blanket, next to a bowl of Cheetos. Her arm dangles over the edge toward a resting Murphy, her fingers on his head. If ever there was a person who should own a dog, it’s Cassie. I’m sure it’ll be the first thing she gets when she moves out.

Will she ever move out, though?

What will Cassie be like at twenty-one, when she finally graduates high school?

“What movie do you want to watch?” she repeats.

“Oh, I don’t care. You guys can pick.” Because no doubt I won’t be watching a moment of it with Emmett in the room.

“Okay. But not It because I do not like that clown.” She shakes her head with conviction, her face a mask of grim resolve.

I sink into the cushions. “Good thing you didn’t go into the haunted house, then.”





Emmett gently positions the bag of frozen peas on my propped-up knee and settles in next to me. A thrill courses through my limbs, making me shudder.

“Here.” Emmett retrieves a plush blanket from the basket beside the couch and spreads it over my body.

That’s not why I shuddered, though it is chilly down here. “You want some?”

“Nah. I run hot.” He pauses. “Well, maybe a bit.” He edges in closer, until our sides are pressed against each other. “How’s that for your leg?” He juts a chin toward where my ankle rests atop a pillow on the coffee table.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good.” He lifts his arm up and over to stretch out on the back of the couch behind me. He aims the remote. “You seriously haven’t seen Alien before?”

“Seriously.” My body sinks into his, thanks to his weight and our proximity, until I’m leaning against his hard chest. He’s right, he does run hot. And I love it. “Isn’t this, like, old?”

“Still amazing, though.”

“The alien’s not real,” Cassie declares. “Don’t worry, AJ, it’s fake. They’re all actors.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was worried.” I doubt she catches the sarcasm in my tone.

“Okay, you guys are sitting close.” She tacks on that odd little laugh at the end. But if she’s aware there’s something more than casual friendship growing between her brother and me, she isn’t letting on.

“So are you and Murphy,” I tease.

“Hi, Murphy!” Cassie exclaims, suitably distracted, her cheese powder–coated fingers reaching for Murphy’s nose, earning a lick in return.

The opening credits roll and Emmett adjusts his body, as if to settle into the cushions for the long haul. His free hand slides under the blanket, his fingers curling through mine.





“Let’s watch the second one!” Cassie exclaims as soon as the closing credits appear.

“I think I’m Alien’d out for tonight.” Emmett slips his fingers from mine to stretch his arms over his head.

I miss his touch instantly. I’ve had it all to myself for the past two hours, through acid-spitting, human-eating, close-your-eyes scenes, save for the few times he was fussing with the bag of peas, or swapping it out for a fresh one from the freezer.

I had so many excuses to bury my face in Emmett’s warm chest, and I greedily accepted every last one of them.

“I think Murphy needs to go out.” Emmett eyes the near-comatose dog. He must have eaten half the bowl of Cheetos, one by one, as they tumbled from Cassie’s grip onto the floor. Accidentally or otherwise, I can’t be sure because she giggled every time she heard his crunch.

“I’ll take him!” Cassie kicks off her blanket. “Come on, Murph! Let’s go for a walk!”

The old dog lifts his head at that word, and then struggles to ease himself to a standing position, staggering a few steps before he gets his bearings.

“Just make sure you hold onto the leash tight and watch out for cats,” I warn.

“Which cat? Tiger? Oscar?” Her brow furrows in thought as she rattles off names of the neighbors’ pets. “Misty?”

“We don’t know, Cass. Just watch out for all cats.” Emmett watches her lead Murphy up the stairs and then his head flops back. “I knew that would work.” He turns to me, his eyes skating over my features, an intense look in them.

“What?” My voice is shaky as my own eyes trail his hard jaw, the sharp jut of his Adam’s apple, the cut of his collarbone peeking out from his shirt. Two hours of being pressed against him and holding his hand has made me desperate for more.