Page 47 of Quarantine Crush
“You’re damn right it was,” she hisses. “And it sure as hell won’t happen again.” She turns on her heel, storming off down the hall with a strength and fury that leaves me breathless.
But I don’t give myself more than a second to watch it happen before I turn and walk away, retreating to the balcony with my laptop. There’s work to be done. A future to plan for. And I can’t afford to ruin it with a moment of weakness. I’m stronger than this. I have to be. Stronger than Emy Hess’s hold on my heart.
14
Embry
I’m going to murder Knox Jacobs. Right after I kill Hadley, Nina, and Taylor. Temporary insanity, they’ll call it. Justifiable homicide is what it is. As if making out with Knox wasn’t bad enough, it had to bethekiss. You know the one I’m talking about–the kind of kiss that ruins you for all other men? And now, he’s calling it a mistake?
Murder is probably too good for his ass.
Torture is the way to go.
Just as soon as I can stand to be in the same room as him.
I pace my bedroom, comforting myself with all the ways I can think of to exact my revenge. Nair in his shampoo is way too middle school. Pushing him off the balcony will simply make a mess. Hadley would have a great idea, but she’s still on my shit list for stirring the pot earlier. They all are.
Which means I’m on my own.
In the end, I can think of only one way to get back at him for messing with my heart like this: make him regret his words as much as I regret that stupid FlipFlop challenge.
Knox called the kisses a mistake. But he never outright said he didn’t enjoy them. In fact, judging by the very convincing impersonation of an eggplant emoji he was doing last night when he was on top of me, I think it’s safe to say he was very much enjoying them. And I’m going to use that against him until he begs me to stop.
Which I will. Because I know about Nelle, and even though I hate her, she doesn’t deserve this either. Guilt pricks at my skin. I don’t know when Knox became a cheater, but I’m damn sure not going to be the reason he breaks another woman’s heart–not while he’s breaking mine all over again. Women have to stick together against shit like this.
Starting now, there’s no more shy, timid Embry.
Somewhere deep inside me is a savage bitch. It’s time to let her out to play and make the boy cry.
I cross my room with purposeful strides, stopping in front of the full-length mirror. I frown as I take in my messy bun, black, cloth shorts, and plain tank. Even with Knox here, my quarantine look has been cute at best, and that’s if I’m being generous. I shake my head and turn for the closet.
I bite my lip as I contemplate what my first look for “man-eater Emy” should be. I scan the shirts hanging in my closet, my eyes snagging on a white, long-sleeved, dip hem sweater. The thin sweater is one of my favorites because it’s so damn soft, but I don’t wear it out very often because the neckline makes wearing a bra nearly impossible. A grin curls my lips as I realize it’s perfect for my first wave. I pull it down and cross to my drawers for the perfect jeans to pair it with. I let out a small whoop when I finally find the skinny jeans I’m looking for. With my outfit selected, I hurry to change.
I glance at myself in the mirror one last time, my teeth gnawing on my bottom lip. The cropped, white sweater ends a couple of inches below my breasts, but I’ve paired it with high-waisted skinny jeans, allowing a thin line of tanned skin to show. A thin slit runs across the top of each of my thighs, giving the jeans their own sexy vibes. I’ve even done my makeup for the first time since the failed FlipFlop challenge.
I pile my hair on top of my head with one hand, then let it fall again, trying to decide which option looks best. The memory of Knox doing the same has my nipples pebbling, and I send a silent thanks to Hadley for the boob tape I found in my underwear drawer. Mind made up, I dart to my vanity and pull out a hair tie. I take my time, making sure to pull enough pieces from the bun. A man would think the look was effortless, but women know how much work goes into looking like you just rolled out of bed. I grab the tiny four-leaf clover necklace that Nina gifted me for my last birthday and slip it on, allowing the tiny gold charm to rest perfectly in the hollow of my throat. With one last calming breath, I slip from my room and pad down the hall on bare feet.
Knox is sitting on the balcony, his head down as he types something on his computer. I cross the room, knocking on the glass to get his attention before I slide the door open. He glances up, his eyes widening as his gaze rakes over me from head to toe. I watch as his Adam's apple bobs, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stop a grin from spreading.
“Hey, Knox,” I say cooly. “I wanted to let you know I’m gonna run downstairs. Be back soon.”
I turn, sliding the door closed, and start to walk away. The door slides open a second later, and Knox’s hand closes around my wrist.
“Emy, wait.”
I glance over my shoulder and frown. “Why? What’s up?”
“Maybe I should come with you,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes.
I shake my head. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine on my own. I just need to check my mail. And to be honest, I could use some space–even if six feet is all I’m allowed.”
I pull my arm from his grip and walk away, making sure to put some extra swing in my back porch. I grab my mask and house key from the small table near my door, slip on some flats, and walk out the door–leaving a furious Knox in my wake.
I push the button for the elevator, tapping my foot impatiently as I wait for it to reach my floor. The chance of Knox following me is small–he’s far too stubborn to chase after me–but I’ll still breathe easier when I’m safely behind the closed doors.
A ding announces its arrival, and I slip inside quickly, nodding at Mrs. Henderson, who steps off, clearly getting back from taking Bonjovi for his lunchtime walk.
“Oh, hi, Embry. Is that delicious quarantine partner of yours still around?” she asks.
