Page 59 of Quarantine Crush
I end the call and toss my phone aside, more lost than I was before. If I want to convince Emy that our friendship is worth saving, I’m going to have to go to the source. Get into her head. And find out what I can do to fix this.
* * *
Emy doesn’t leaveher computer lying around at all the rest of the day. It’s not until late afternoon the following day that she walks away from it. With barely a glance in my direction, she closes it, sets it aside, then hops off the stool and heads for her room.
She hasn’t spoken to me in over twenty-four hours, and I’m feeling the chill all the way into my bones. Invading her privacy again, especially after admitting that I’ve already done it, should make me feel like a complete douche.
But I also know this might be my only chance.
When I hear the shower in her bathroom turn on, I make my move.
I pull open the computer, one eye trained on Emy’s bedroom. The computer flashes to life and, thankfully, doesn’t ask me for her password. Briefly, I wonder if she’s left it accessible on purpose. But that doesn’t make sense.
I click the tab and pull up the still-open document she’s been working on. Then, I scroll up. Past the fictional sexy scene she wrote for us– never mind the fact that it isn’t actually so fictional anymore–to the parts of the story I know are based in reality. My eyes catch on familiar descriptions, and I know I’ve gone far enough back to reach the parts that are from our past.
Our memories together span pages and pages.
But there’s too much to wade through in what little time I have left.
On a hunch, I do a word search for “guitar,” and my eyes land on the page where it’s highlighted.
I try to read quickly, but when I realize what’s happening in the scene, I slow down, and my body goes still.
I drink in every word like they’re the last drops of water on Earth.
Jemmy blows out a breath, squaring her shoulders as she gathers her courage. The air is chilly now that the sun has set, but the slight tremble in her hands has nothing to do with the cold London air. Her grip on the guitar tightens, and she reminds herself once again who’s waiting for her inside the pub she’s standing in front of.
Fox isn’t scary.
The thought of telling him what she came here to tell him is, though.
So the trembling remains.
She takes a step forward, determined. No matter how terrifying this is, she already flew hundreds of miles across an entire ocean. She can’t back out now.
Haddie will kill her.
She takes another step toward the pub door.
Then her eyes catch on a figure through the window. Fox stands before a table packed with people. His hair is longer than the last time she saw him. And his shoulders are broader like he’s filled out more. They still talk weekly, but Facetime doesn’t do him justice. He’s gorgeous. He always has been, but now. . . Now he takes her breath away.
Fox laughs at something someone says and raises his glass. The others at the table do the same. She scans their faces and recognizes Charlie, his friend, from the pictures she’s seen on his Instagram. There’s another guy and two girls she doesn’t know. Fox’s parents and brother are there. As she knew they would be. Even her own father is part of the party.
The fact that her people are in there bolsters her.
But then she watches as one of the girls at the table rises and slips around to where Fox stands. She wraps an arm around his waist and kisses him on the mouth. And he kisses her back.
Jemmy’s lips part in surprise–and her gut clenches in horror.
And heartbreak.
God, the timing of it all.
The kiss is painful to watch, but she can’t make herself look away. When they part, Fox runs a hand over the girl’s hair and then down her arm, interlacing his fingers in hers.
She smiles up at him.
The look is intimate. Like they’re a couple. Like they’ve been a couple for a while.
