Between the Lines

I lie back on my bed and push my mental replay button… until my phone beeps, startling me. It’s Meredith, probably wondering what happened when Reid and I disappeared.

Meredith: You okay? Not that I’m checking up on you or anything. ?

Me: Yep. Reid and I decided to stop by the cafe downstairs for a few minutes.

Meredith: Wanna get lunch and go shopping tomorrow?

Me: Sounds good. Noon?

Meredith: Sure. I’ll come to your room, cya then

Chapter 26

REID

Time for a re-eval.

First up, I’m certain Emma’s a virgin. The way she’s holding back isn’t just wariness of me—though that’s part and parcel. She’s new to the whole rodeo. Though there’s nothing about her that says I’m saving myself for marriage or any such crap, most girls want to save themselves for something—usually love, in which, as I’ve already established, I don’t believe.

Given the above, her kissing skill is incredible. I know it’s subjective, and not everyone likes the same things, the same way. Honestly, if I’m going to get laid, I tolerate just about anything. But Emma requires no toleration, and with a lot of past history to use for comparison, I know better than to take that for granted. She’s responsive, following every move I make like she did on the dance floor, tentative and sweet while managing to drive me crazy with wanting her, no matter how much control I seem to have over myself and the situation in the beginning.

It’s been a while since I’ve been this infatuated with someone. Jesus, what a rush. I can’t screw this up, and the best way to insure success in that is to cut off any other action for the duration. After the hour or so the two of us spent in my room last night, I’ve lost all interest in everyone else anyway. I want her. Period.

So then, Graham Douglas.

I don’t know him. He’s a puzzle. He’s done nothing but indie films, with some student films mixed in. No acting jobs before he was seventeen, and it looks like he started college before that. No idea if he continued or gave it up or what. He’s two years older than me, a year older than Brooke. I assume the two of them met on some previous project. They seem too chummy to have just met.

I can’t find that he crossed paths with Emma before School Pride, but anything is possible. Maybe they hooked up at some point, but not all the way. All the same, he doesn’t seem like the sort to dispute boundaries—if he thinks she’s mine, I think he’ll retreat. After I kissed Emma in front of him yesterday, he backed off without a word. Caveman tactics aren’t in my repertoire, generally, but neither is losing a girl I want this badly.

*** *** ***

Emma

Over lunch, Meredith grills me. “Emma, what is going on between you and Reid?”

I shrug one shoulder. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Hmm. I thought I might not to get an answer to my text until this morning….”

“Well, I answered last night—from my room.” She arches a brow. “Where I was alone.”

“Okay, enough interrogation, I get it.” She takes a sip of her iced tea. “I’m still depressed over breaking up with Robby, even if it was for the best.”

“What happened?”

Her mouth twists. “When we’re together, everything is fine. When I’m away on location or whatever, it goes to hell. He loses all trust in me. If he can’t get me on my cell, he leaves angry messages. He accuses me of doing things I’d never do. Then he says he loves me and he’s just scared. The night we broke up, I told him I can’t be with him if he can’t trust me. And he said, ‘Then I guess you can’t be with me,’ and that was that.”

“Wow. That sucks.”

“Seriously.”

My phone beeps and I dig it out of my bag.

Reid: Dinner tonight? Alone? Be at your room at 7?

Me: Sure

“Reid?” Meredith asks.

“He wants us to go to dinner alone.”

“Yet you’re ‘not sure’ what’s going on.” She smirks. “Look, he obviously likes you, you like him… unless there’s someone else?”

I think of Graham, and my teeth clench. Why can’t I stop thinking of him that way? Because of one kiss that he obviously thinks was a mistake? I stack my fork and knife on the plate, not looking at her. “No. I just need to get over it.”

“I hear that. Robby and I have broken up three times in the last two years, and I really just need to get over it.” Her eyes well up with tears. I wish I could find this Robby guy and dead-leg him, like I’d done to a kid who broke Emily’s heart in second grade, when retribution was easy.

“So. What are we wearing tonight? Casual hot, or dressy hot?” Meredith asks, smiling, blinking her tears away. “We’re about to shop this town’s rocks off. We need to know what we’re hunting for.”

Me: Casual or dressy?

Reid: Preference?

Me: No?

Reid: K, lol. Casual it is. See you at 7.

***

While I’m dressing for my date with Reid (dark jeans, purple silk tank), I think about my run with Graham this morning. He didn’t ask what happened to me last night, thank God. He asked about my upcoming classes. Those of us who haven’t graduated and are under eighteen are required by law to attend class on set during the school year. Next week, Jenna, Meredith and I begin timed blocks of instruction with tutors. I’ll have enough credits to graduate by November.

“So then what?” We single-filed around a slower couple, for the third time in ten minutes. “College?” The paths are busy on Sunday mornings, which makes carrying on a conversation a disconnected and sporadic event.