Page 32 of Quarantine Crush
Fox nods.
“And maybe not so much saliva. Pretend like your tongue’s shy. Don’t barge in there.”
I snort as I read the last line. Best advice ever if I’m being honest. That little practice session ended up being a big help when Alyssa Rourke did, in fact, let me kiss her the following week at the freshman dance. And now, my ego can’t help but revel in the knowledge that we might not have been the best kissers back then. At least I can say that I taught Emy everything she knows. That pasta-making asshole, Reed, can owe me for any Emy kisses that may keep him up at night, thank you very much.
The nostalgia is almost enough to make me bring this up to her later so we can both laugh about it and reminisce. Then I blink, suddenly realizing I’m standing on Emy’s balcony, doing exactly what she asked me not to: reading her book. I snap the laptop closed, pull open the glass door, and hurry to the coffee table. I set her laptop down and step away, trying to understand what that scene is meant for.
The fact that it’s a real memory from my past with Emy is confusing. Isn’t she supposed to be writing a book? As in, fiction? It could be some sort of memoir, but that doesn’t feel right either. This is more like a journal entry–with the names changed, though barely.
It doesn’t make any sense.
Now, all I’m thinking about is the memory of that day in the basement of my parents’ lake house. I haven’t thought of that kiss in years. She’s captured it accurately though. We were a hot mess back then, me more than her. I laugh, thinking about how much I slobbered on her and the number of times we tried as I struggled to perfect my technique.
Thinking about it now, I’m struck by how comfortable I’ve always been with Emy–and how much I miss that closeness. The feeling that I can admit anything. Try anything. And not have to worry about her thinking less of me.
Emy has always been the one person I can truly be myself with.
And the more I compare our kisses, then and now, the more I realize I haven’t extended the same kindness to her. Instead, I made her feel awkward and embarrassed for that kiss she’d sprung on me.
It’s not her fault I made it weird because now that she’s grown into a striking woman, I’m secretly attracted to her. And it’s not her fault I’ve been checking her out ever since I got here.
With guilt tugging at me, I leave her laptop alone and return to my own work on the balcony, determined to finish up for the day so I can focus on spending time with Emy. Our friendship used to be easy, but reading that scene reminds me of how far we’ve fallen from that place. And I’m suddenly determined to get back there again before our quarantine time is up. Even better, now I know exactly how I’m going to do it.
10
Embry
An hour in the tub with my favorite scented body wash is a luxury but not nearly as relaxing as I’d hoped. All I can think about are revolving scenarios in which Knox accidentally walks in on me soaking and then either stays to wash me or whisks me off to use my body like his own personal Slip ’N Slide. None of my fantasies are helpful in relieving my tension, and I’m too damn worried about him overhearing to finish myself off. Maybe Taylor’s right and I should go for Reed. He’s nice and sweet and safe–but he’s never left me hot and bothered in the tub. And at the end of the day, I can’t let myself settle for anything less than burning desire. Not that it’s getting me anywhere with Knox. He’s too busy telling Nelle how much he loves her to notice my blue lady-balls. Ugh.
Still, knowing someone can give me those intense feelings means I’m not willing to settle for anything less. Not even for someone as great as Reed.
When I finally re-emerge from the bathroom, music floats back from the living room. I smile as I pick up bits of the lyrics, recognizing the chorus of Everybody Talks by Neon Trees. I had been obsessed with it, along with every other teen in America, the summer after I turned fifteen. Knox had even learned to play it on guitar for me.
The memory of him strumming his thrift-store guitar while we sat on the dock, our feet cooling in the lake, brings equal parts joy and hurt.
I shake my head to dislodge the memory and hurry to my closet to find some clothes. I pull open my drawer of panties and find my eyes landing on the pile of clothes stacked neatly on top of the dresser. It’s the outfit Taylor had picked out for me to wear that first night. The girls might have deemed it too “casual cute” for the first time I saw Knox, but tonight casual cute is exactly how I’m hoping to come across. I pull on the distressed jeans, lace bralette, and cold shoulder sweater before slipping from the room. Knox appears just as I reach the end of the hall. He holds out a glass of chilled, white wine and smiles. “You look refreshed,” he says.
Ha. Clearly, he can’t read me like he used to. Though that fact doesn’t kill me like it might once have. Instead, I find that I’m slightly relieved that he can’t see what an absolute wreck I am.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the glass and sipping generously.
Now, I know why liquor stores are considered “essential” in this time of crisis. Not that anyone else is trapped in quarantine with the boy she’s been in love with her whole life after he brutally rebutted her advances, but if they are, we should form a girl gang after all of this is over.
Knox holds up his beer and clinks it against my wine glass. “Cheers,” he offers.
“Any special reason why we’re day drinking?”
Knox chuckles. “I think quarantine life is reason enough. Don’t you?”
I smile and hold up my glass in response. “Well then, here’s to surviving quarantine,” I say then glance around, relieved when I spot my laptop safe and sound on the coffee table. I’m tempted to try finishing my scene from earlier, but after today’s roller coaster, I know I won’t be able to concentrate.
Instead, I glance at the TV and wonder if I can lose myself in one of my shows so I can forget all about the fact that my not-so-secret crush is in love with someone else. “So, what do you want to do tonight?”
Knox looks way too prepared for the question and answers immediately. “I was thinking, after dinner, we could have a game night.”
Dammit. There goes any hope of ignoring him. “What kind of game? I don’t think I own any board games or anything.”
He grins. “I think it’s time to bring back an Emnox classic. You up for a game of Bullshit?”
