Page 60 of Quarantine Crush
Jemmy’s chest pangs with a sharp ache as she realizes the truth.
She can’t tell Fox how she feels. Not tonight. Not ever. The reason they haven’t made the jump from friends to something more isn’t about timing. She can see that now because Fox has brought this girl around his family. And that means something. Yet, he never mentioned her to Jemmy. And that means something too.
It means their friendship wasn’t as open and honest as she’d thought.
It means he keeps things from her.
Things he gives to other people.
To that girl.
From here on, Jemmy needs to hide parts of herself too. Especially the parts that have feelings for Fox.
She looks down at the guitar, turning it so she can read the inscription she had etched into the back. ‘Bullshit,’ it says.
Fitting.
I sit back, stunned.
Emy was there. The night of my graduation party, and I–
I never knew. She’d never come inside. I remember Joe getting a call and stepping out of the pub. When he came back inside, he’d told me her flight had been canceled due to weather. A spring storm had grounded flights. I’d never even considered…
And that girl. Lola or some shit.
She’d crashed my party. Convinced Charlie to give her the details. I hadn’t invited her. Hadn’t wanted her to meet my family. Or Emy. But mostly, I hadn’t wanted Emy to see me with someone else.
I could never admit to myself why that felt important, but it did.
I’d ended things with Lola the next morning.
But now…
None of it mattered. Because I'd clearly been hurting Emy for longer than I ever could have guessed. No wonder she was done with me.
From the master bathroom, I hear the shower shut off and press the computer closed again.
Then I go to the closet where I stashed the guitar Emy insisted I take with me when I leave. It’s leaning sideways on a pile of jackets, and I yank it out, turning it over.
My eyes land on the single word etched into the wood.
Bullshit.
My breath whooshes out of me as I realize that scene wasn’t fiction at all. It’s a memory. And more proof of how many times I’ve let her be hurt by my stubborn commitment to protecting our friendship.
Except I wasn’t protecting it. Or her, I realize. I was protecting myself, and for what? To keep a bestie I could tell anything to?
It’s been years since I told her everything. Told her the truth.
The truth is that I want it all. Emy’s friendship. And her body. And her heart. The realization brings me to my knees, followed swiftly by the reminder that Emy wants nothing to do with me.
Fuck.
18
Embry
Ipull out my phone and start up the Skype call with my girls. I’d been putting off calling and telling them what happened because I didn’t want them to tell me how I should feel. I needed some time to figure it out myself–and even though I still haven’t figured that out completely, now that we’re getting close to the day Knox and I were supposed to leave for the lake, I need to tell them about the change of plans.
