Don't Kiss the Messenger (Edgelake High School, #1)(49)

All the girls swooned which made Bryn giggle even more. I watched the field, and Emmett predicted a blitz, dodged a sack, and threw a thirty-yard pass. He was flawless.

“And the way he kisses. It’s more than kissing. It’s like he’s exploring. And his hands never stop moving. They’re always roaming. It’s like he’s on an expedition and my body is the map.”

I looked away and prepared myself for another giggle. I was suddenly jealous of a man in the stands wearing ear plugs. Bryn suddenly leaned forward and gave me an unexpected hug, nearly pulling me off the bleachers. I offered her a loose hug in return, trying not to fall into her.

“CeCe, you’re great,” she said.

“Why?” VanBree asked.

She moved back to her seat and pointed at me. “She set it all up. She’s my matchmaker. My benefactor of hot ass.”

Tuba looked over at me, a knowing look. I flashed her a warning that said drop it.

“Email him all you want,” Bryn said and winked at me. “This is too much fun.”

Sure, I thought. It must be great to be on the receiving end. But, I took pride in knowing that my words were winning him over, not hers.

The fans roared and screamed around us and I looked at the field in time to see the running back fly through the end zone for a touchdown. I cheered and screamed as loud as I could. I shut my eyes and SHOUTED AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS. But my scream wasn’t celebratory. It was medicinal.

It wasn’t until the end of third quarter, when we were up by forty-seven points, that they pulled Emmett to the sidelines and let a second-string quarterback get some playtime. Emmett took his helmet off, and his thick hair looked rumbled with sweat. He walked around the sidelines, slapping palms with all of the players and coaches. I didn’t mind when Mac nudged me and we started filing out of the stadium to get ready for our game. It forced me to stop staring so hard at Emmett.





Chapter Nineteen


Emmett


I slid into the seat next to CeCe and felt like the air in the classroom was charged. Electrified. On fire.

I couldn’t concentrate on the lecture. Too many thoughts were streaming through me like melodies waiting to be written. I turned my notebook to a new sheet and started to write music. The notes took shape under my hand, involuntarily. I wasn’t even writing the song—Bryn was conducting it. I was just the puppet, helpless under her power. I read over the notes scribbled on the page. Even on paper, Bryn didn’t make sense to me.

When we walked outside after class, CeCe sat on the bench by the entrance. She was digging in her backpack, looking for something. I was still distracted, half in this world, half in another.

“It’s a good thing Watford didn’t catch you writing music during class,” CeCe said. “She might have gone Richard III on you.”

I smiled and ran a hand through my hair.

“I’ve been sidetracked lately. It turns out I write music really well when my head’s a mess.”

CeCe looked up at me. “What are you messed up about?”

I sat down next to her on the bench. I needed to talk to someone who knew Bryn.

“This is going to sound really strange,” I said.

CeCe dropped her backpack next to her feet and gave me her full attention. I looked out at the street and mulled over the best way to phrase this. How do I put this mess into words?

“It’s like the person I see and the person I care about are two different people,” I said.

CeCe looked away from me suddenly. She shifted in her seat, clearing her throat.

“I thought the two would meld together. But sometimes I think I made the mistake of showing interest in one woman, when I’m really interested in another.”

I looked at CeCe and our eyes locked. She gave me this wide eyed, unbelieving stare. She was obviously doubting what I said could be true. Or maybe she thought I was crazy.

I let out a sigh. “I know it doesn’t make sense,” I said. “I just can’t get a read on her.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

I shrugged and smiled, an embarrassed, childish smile. I knew what I was about to say sounded ridiculous and cliché, but it was the truth. “This girl that’s emailing me…I want to know how to bring her out of her shell.”

CeCe sighed, like she was finally starting to understand where I was going with this. “Her shell?” she echoed.

“I think there’s so much more to her that she doesn’t expose. And it’s her best part.” CeCe stared at me with disbelief. A slow smile crept over her face. “So how do I reach her?” I asked.

CeCe looked away for a second, out at the street. She exhaled a slow breath. “You already have,” she said.

“I haven’t. It feels like she has a guard up whenever we’re together,” I said.

She nodded. “You can’t really blame her.”

I frowned. “Why? She’s amazing.”

CeCe looked at me. “Maybe she’s afraid of getting hurt.”

“I don’t understand who would hurt her. She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

She looked away again, her face skeptical, as if she was registering this fact for the first time.

“You can help me figure her out,” I said. “You know her better than I do.”