Page 5 of That Last Secret

Until tonight.

“I’m getting a headache,” I say, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples with my fingers.

I retreat away to the kitchen to pour myself another glass of whiskey. Marc joins me in the kitchen but says nothing as he pours himself one too. I definitely can’t tell him or show him I’m feeling any sort of way for his sister.

Is that what this is, though?

No. I can’t go from seeing Emiline as my friend’s younger sister to feeling anything for her.

That’s just downright crazy.

Marc talks to me about work while we engage in mundane conversation at the kitchen counter. An hour later, “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” blasts over the kitchen speakers. Avery, Kali, and Emiline are in a tequila-induced haze and jump on the counter, belting every word of the song.

My eyes never leave Emiline.

The way her body moves.

The way Inoticehow her body moves.

She might as well be the only one standing on the counter.

I take a long pull from my whiskey and wonder if my drinking tonight has caused these thoughts.

I shake myself out of it and glance over at Marc, who has his eyes fixed on Avery. I let out a relieved sigh, thanking the heavens above he doesn’t notice how I just tracked every curve on his sister’s body as she danced in her short jean shorts on the kitchen counter.

At that moment, I make a pact to myself that I will never think about whatever short-circuit my brain went through after tonight.

Emiline is off limits, and I need to keep my distance.

March

“How isit almost halfway into this semester, and it’s kicking our ass more than our first semester?” I groan as we walk to class.

Starting nursing school was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. People always tell you how hard it is, yet it’s something you can only understand once you’re in it yourself.

I’m constantly reminding myself that this is all temporary, that classes will only take over my social life until I get this degree.

IknowI can do this.

“At least you’re passing,” Brooke scoffs to my side. “I’m barely making it.”

“Girl, you have a B+.”

“Again, barely making it.” She laughs.

“I’m glad we have a good professor this semester,” I tell her. “I think we lucked out because the one teaching the other cohort scares me a little.”

“Girl, theyallscare me.” Brooke shivers before tightening the hold on her jacket and adjusting her hat while she looks at me. “Aren’t you freezing? We are walking five blocks, which isn’t short enough to be in a sweatshirt. This weather is much colder than usual for March.”

“I forgot to grab a jacket before I left.”

The cold doesn’t bother me the way it bothers some people. Growing up in the city, I learned to adapt to this weather. Brooke had only been here for a few years when she moved in with her now ex-boyfriend. The unsupportive guy couldn’t handle the busy schedule of our classes.

But she stayed because she discovered the allure of the fast pace of living here and the convenience of not needing a car to travel everywhere.

“I worked last night and rolled out of bed after two hours of sleep with enough time to shower, throw my hair in this top knot bun, and I still remembered my jacket,” she says.

“Shit. That’s right. I saw the work group chat going crazy. It sounded like it was a busy night for you guys.”

---