Chapter Eight

Emma attacked her teeth with the toothbrush, scrubbing so hard she tasted blood. Who was Josh to think he could waltz into her pool house with his acting diploma in Psych 101 and tell her she was scared of her friends leaving her if she told them how she really felt?

She wasn't scared. Why would her friends leave her? She was awesome to hang out with. Ha! Let them just try to find a better, more loyal friend than her. Emma wasn't the kind of person to smother how she felt. She was very open with her feelings.

Not going after what she wanted? That sounded more like Ellie or Anne than Emma. Really.

Josh was a hack.

Soft giggles tinkered from down the hall, and she spit out her minty toothpaste. Who could possibly be down the hall with Anne? Surely not Rick, who was out cold, and she couldn't imagine Josh, which left… She heard another giggle, and she spun on the gushing water to roar over it.

So Knight and Anne were good friends now, too. They'd grown closer over the weekend. Inevitable. She'd set up this weekend with the exact goal of helping her friends grow closer together. It just happened to be the wrong two friends.

She was still going to be happy for Anne. Gen-u-ine-ly happy, she thought with every stab of her brush. She spit out one last time and threw the toothbrush on the counter.

Ugh, she'd forgotten how much Josh could get under her skin and ruin everything. Had she really thought they could date? That was a lifetime ago. She was over him. Over being over him. Over him in a big way.

She even thought to tell him so.

She walked out of the bedroom, just as Knight came out of Anne's bedroom.

They both froze in the hall. She felt as if someone had hammered an ice chisel straight through her heart. He'd been in her room. Laughing. Enjoying her company. Other things could happen in bedrooms, couldn't they?

But had they?

No, it wasn't possible. Not with her Knight.

"Emma—"

She went back in her room and shut the door. She leaned against it, chest heaving. She heard his footsteps come closer and closer until he was standing on the other side. She waited for the knock. She wanted to whirl around, open the door, and pummel him until he came to his senses. But after a few moments, she heard his footsteps fall away.

The urge to run to Anne's room and asked what had gone on between her and Knight pulled at Emma. She distracted herself every possible way she knew how. She sent her mother texts and picture updates of the event and waited for a response, refreshing her email every few minutes until after half an hour she received a perfunctory, That's nice, dear.

There were only so many cute fuzzy cat videos and model fashion vlogs she could watch before they all started to sound the same. She changed into a satin purple tank slip with lace that traced her collarbone and sat in bed, the comforter pulled high to her neck.

No matter what she did—whether she stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open or screwed her eyes tight—her heartbeat thudded in her ears. The image of Knight coming out of Anne's room wound through her mind and rewound and rewound. An imaginary reel of him backing into the room, taking Anne into his arms, consuming her lips.

Emma couldn't take it anymore. She threw off her blanket and popped to her feet.

A knock sounded at her door.

She let out a surprised squeal and hopped back in bed. "Yes?"

"Are you awake?" Anne called through the door.

"Uh, yeah, come in."

Anne opened the door slowly, letting in light from the hallway that illuminated her form. Her hair tied back in a long braid at her back, and she wore comfortable, gray flannel pajamas.

"Just flip the switch. Come on in."

"You sure?" She didn't wait for an answer before she clicked on the light and climbed onto the foot of Emma's bed. "Thanks. I couldn’t fall asleep."

"Because of Knight?" Emma fisted in the blanket in her hands as she sat up taller and leaned against her bedframe. "I saw him coming out of your room."

"Oh." Anne's brown eyes widened. "He was coming to check on me, see if I was okay."

Emma had to clear her throat so she could speak without her voice shaking. "Why?"

"I was thinking about Rick, and I got upset. He saw. I tried to pretend I was okay, but you know Knight. He wouldn't leave it at that. He followed me upstairs just to check."

"That sounds like Knight," Emma said wistfully. At least it sounded like how Knight had always been with her. "Why were you upset?"

"It was dumb. I was thinking about this weekend. About Rick."

"You're still in love with him?" Emma asked hopefully then hated herself for it. She'd seen how dismissive Rick had been of Anne. How could she want that for her friend? How could she hope for Anne to doom herself to crushing on a guy who wanted nothing to do with her.

"I am. Maybe I always will be. But this weekend made me realize that's not the end. There are other great guys out there. Other guys to fall in love with."

"Like Knight."

Anne squinted her eyes and gave Emma a puzzled look, and for a moment, Emma wondered if Anne could see through her facade to how she felt inside. To the jealousy and darkness she was trying hard to bury for the sake of the people she cared about.

"Yeah, Knight's a great guy," Anne said. "He's a great example that there are other guys out there. Guys like Knight, like you said. With the right guy, at the right time, I can fall in love again. I can find someone else."

Emma felt like she wanted to crawl under the covers and not come back out. Not if it meant living out the rest of the school year with Knight and Anne as in love as the rest of her friends. Could she stand watching them feed each other lunch? Holding hands in the hall? Napping under the tree on warm afternoons, their limbs entwined?

As Anne smiled at Emma, looking hopeful, looking happy, looking for all the world like she was feeling normal again, Emma realized that yes. She'd hate it. She'd hate herself. She'd hate the world. But for her dearest friends to have found each other? Yes, she could stand it.

 

* * *

 

By midnight, Emma had had enough. She sent Knight a text.

 

911. My room. Now.

 

She didn't ponder the wisdom of sending a text to the guy that her girlfriend liked at midnight. She only knew that the doubt and uncertainty felt like a crushing stone on her chest, and if she didn't try to push it off, she'd suffocate.

She paced her room, waiting. For a full minute, she thought maybe he wouldn't come, but then she heard him climb the stairs. He didn't knock. He flung open the door, breathing hard having run up the stairs.

For a brief moment, Emma allowed herself the fantasy of Knight palming her face, pulling her lips to his. Of his hands running up and down her back, threading into her hair. Of wrapping herself around him. The sensations felt so real she ached with them.

Then she pressed her pointed finger into his chest. "Anne has been through enough heartache and confusion with Rick and Josh without you leading her on, too."

"I'm not." Knight crinkled his forehead. "Emma, is that what this is about? I wouldn't lead Anne on."

He wasn't leading Anne on…which meant he must genuinely like her, must genuinely be interested.

"Good." Her voice trembled. She shoved her finger into his chest again for good measure. "Because Anne is one of my best friends, and if you do anything to hurt her—"

Knight's hand closed around her finger, and he gently pulled it back. Emma realized she was breathing heavily and looked down. She focused on her breathing because each breath in pushed her feelings down her throat so they wouldn't come spilling out. Had Josh been right? Was she a coward?

His hand shifted, moved, so his fingers entwined with hers, and she let him do it because it felt nice. Better than nice. It felt right and wonderful, the way she'd possibly always known it would. She pulled her hand back and tilted her head up to stare at Knight's face.

"What's going on here, Emma?"

"You tell me," she said. "You're the one who came out of Anne's bedroom earlier. What's happening between you and Anne?"

"No, I wasn't talking about Anne or what was going on in her bedroom. I mean what is going on here. Now. Between us."

She pulled up to her full height and eyed him with a tart expression. "What's going on is I'm making sure that you treat my friend well."

"Since when don't I treat your friends well?"

The hurt look on his face was enough to stop her retort. She didn't want to hurt him, hadn't meant to. She gulped in a breath. This was Knight. She could be honest with him. "You're right. You've always treated my friends well. You treat Anne well. Because you're a nice person. You don't need me to threaten you or tell you how to treat her. Because I trust you, Knight. I trust you with Anne."

Knight ran both hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. "So this is what you want? You want me and Anne to get together?"

Denial scratched at her throat, pushed between her lips, but fear kept her mouth shut. "I want you both to be happy." How could Anne not be happy with Knight? She trembled as the next words fell from her lips. "If all guys were like you, love would be easy."

"How about you? Does it make you happy?" he pressed. "The idea of us together."

Anne swallowed, Josh's words coming back to her in a rush: Do yourself the favor of being inconvenient and unpopular, of making things difficult for your friends instead of so easy. But no, she couldn't take advice from Josh. New-and-improved Josh was still selfish and self-serving. New-and-improved Josh didn't understand the obligation Emma had to give back to this world a little of what she had been given. "Your happiness makes me happy," she said.

Knight didn't seem to like that answer because he stalked away, scowling. When he turned back to her, his dark eyes flashed angry and his hands balled into fists at his sides. "What's happened to you this weekend? Why are you pulling your punches? Since when do you lie to me like this?"

"I'm not lying to you." The thought of him happy did make her happy. It just happened to make her miserable at the same time.

"So you're happy? Right now."

"Of course I am!" She threw out her arms at her sides. "Look at all this. My house. My life. Everything. I have everything I could ever want to be happy. Everything in my life has been handed to me so easily. I haven't had to work for anything, Knight."

"That's crap," he spat. He stalked up to her, and she gasped, thinking he would barrel right through her, but he stopped short, their faces an inch apart. "You think everything in life has been handed to you? Because your looks, your brains, your money, that all supposedly comes from your parents? None of that matters, Emma. I told you, you're all heart. That heart is all yours. Your popularity is all yours. Your friendships are no accident. People love you because you love them first. You pour everything into your friends. That's always been who you really are. That's always been all you. You've worked for all of it, and if you want to truly happy, Emma…it's going to take more work."

He turned and left, leaving her speechless, without a retort for the first time in her life.