Play Safe (Make the Play Book 1) Page 2

  “Emmy,” Cal warned.

  “Cal,” she said with a smile. “It’s fine.” As she moved closer to the dog with her hand extended, a low growl erupted from its mouth. I stiffened. Cal leapt forward, but it was too late. The dog had chomped down on Emmy’s thumb. Luckily it only grazed the skin before Emmy yanked her hand back. As Cal scared the dog away, I rushed to Emmy. She bit her lip, her face the picture of bravery. Her thumb was bleeding and looked like it hurt, but she never cried.

  “I told you to leave the dog alone,” Cal muttered when he returned to us.

  “Sorry.” Emmy lowered her gaze to her scuffed tennis shoes. A warm breeze whisked over us, causing her blond hair to lift from her shoulders.

  “Just promise you’ll listen to me from now on,” Cal pressed.

  “Okay,” Emmy promised.

  “Hey,” I say to her now as I pull up to the curb in front of her house. Sliding my hands off the steering wheel, I angle my body toward hers. Then I reach out and gently touch her scar. “Remember when you got that?”

  “How could I forget? I wear the reminder every day.” Light from the streetlamp slices across Emmy’s pale skin, giving the illusion that her face is glowing. She always reminds me of an angel with her light features and wide innocent blue eyes, but she looks the part even more so tonight. Except for the sadness. That’s new.

  And I don’t like it one bit.

  “You didn’t keep your promise,” I tell her.

  “Huh?” Her eyebrows raise.

  “To Cal. You promised you would listen to him, but you didn’t. At least not when it came to Josh.”

  She shakes her head, giving me the exasperated look I’ve grown familiar with over the years. It’s funny. There are times I think that Emmy enjoys the attention and protection I give her. Other times it’s like she wishes I’d leave her alone.

  “That’s completely different,” she says, her tone hard.

  “How so?”

  “Well, for one, I’m not a little kid anymore.” She tucks an errant strand of golden hair behind her ear, exposing her slender, milky white neck. My gaze slides down her smooth skin all the way to her tight-fitting top before I can stop it. Yeah, no crap she’s not a kid anymore. I’d have to be an idiot not to notice that. “And for two, Josh is not a stray dog.”

  I can’t help it. I laugh.

  Despite her best efforts, her lips curve upward a little. She swats me in the arm. “Shut up.”

  “You’re the one who made the comparison.”

  “It wasn’t a comparison. I was saying that they’re not the same.”

  “Ah, is that so?”

  She cocks her head to the side and pins me with a glare. “Look, I know you hate Josh because of everything with your mom, but--”

  “That’s not true. I don’t hate Josh because of that,” I say honestly. “None of that was his fault. I hate him because he’s an ass. But mostly I hate the way he treats you.”

  “Stop.” She sighs loudly.

  “Stop what?”

  “Stop playing big brother. You already did your duty for the night.” She shrugs. “It’s over now. I’m safe. I’m home. No need to worry.”

  Her words stop me cold. “This isn’t some kind of job for me. I helped you because I wanted to.”

  “I know.” She smiles, and I wonder if I misread what she was saying earlier. “You’re a good friend to Cal.” I open my mouth to explain that I didn’t do this for Cal, but she continues before I can. “And speaking of Cal, can you please not tell him about tonight? He’s not exactly Josh’s biggest fan. I don’t want to make things even more strained between them.” She bites her lip. “I mean, it’s already awkward enough when Josh comes over and stuff…”

  My chest tightens. “You’re not seriously going to keep seeing him, are you?”

  Her shoulders bob up and down. “I don’t know. Maybe. Depends on what he wants.”

  “What he wants?” I snap. “So, let me get this straight. The guy treats you like shit in front of all his friends, and now he gets to choose if you two stay together. Seems like you should be the one holding the cards right now. Hell, the way I see it, the guy needs to come crawling back and begging you to forgive him.”

  “He didn’t mean what he said. He was drinking. Besides, it’s not like he was totally off base. I was acting crazy.”

  My mouth drops. I’m dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? The guy’s a jerk, Emmy. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “You weren’t there the whole time,” she explains. “And I don’t want to get into the entire thing. It’s embarrassing. But I never should’ve shown up tonight. It was his night with the guys, and I should’ve just let him have it instead of acting like a needy girlfriend.”

  I snort. “Do you hear yourself? It’s like the dude brainwashed you or something.”

  Anger flashes in her irises, like a light clicking on. “Excuse me?”

  “Josh should be thanking his lucky stars that a girl like you wants to be with him, not the other way around.”

  Emmy rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s not like guys were knocking down my door before he asked me out.”

  “That’s ‘cause Cal and I were guarding it.”

  She giggles. “Nice try.”

  “It’s the truth.” I scoot forward, lifting my hand to touch her face. The minute my skin touches hers, I’m startled. What am I doing? Sure, I’ve daydreamed about touching Emmy, but I never planned to act on it. I need to yank my hand back, to pretend I never touched her to begin with. But not before making one thing perfectly clear. She needs to hear the words I’m about to say. “You don’t know how beautiful you are, do you?”

  Pink stains her cheeks. “You have to say that. It’s like a big brother policy or something.”

  She always does this – treats me like an extension of Cal. But I’m not. I’m my own person, and my feelings for her are not brotherly. Trust me.

  “Would you stop?” To hell with it. I curve my hand around her cheek. “I’m not your brother. I don’t say things because I have to or because I think of you as my little sister. I say them because I mean it, okay? So stop second guessing me.”

  Her gaze crashes into mine. “Okay,” she practically whispers.

  “You’re beautiful and smart, and capable and funny.” My fingers slip beneath her silky hair. The strands tumble down my arm. It’s better than any daydream, and now that I’ve gotten a taste of it, I’m not stopping now. “You need to be with a guy that makes you feel that way. A guy who treats you the way you deserve to be treated. A guy who won’t take you for granted.” She flutters her eyelashes and leans forward. Her lips part slightly, warm breath escaping. It does something to me. Stirs my heart in a way that’s terrifying.

  If you had told me a year ago that Emmy would make me feel this way I wouldn’t have believed you. In fact, I might have even told you that you were ridiculous. Disgusting even. I never thought of Emmy that way. Not in the kissing or touching kind of way. That would be like incest or something. She’d always been like my little sister.

  Until she wasn’t.

  I remember it perfectly – the day Emmy went from being Cal’s gangly little sister to incredibly hot chick who I couldn’t stop thinking about. It was after I returned from a three-week vacation with my mom last summer. Cal texted me the day of my return and invited me to the lake with he and Emmy. I imagined that it would be a day like so many others. We’d splash Emmy, maybe throw her in the water a couple of times. She’d giggle and chase us, and probably end up getting on our nerves at some point. But I wasn’t prepared for how much she’d changed since the last time I’d seen her in a bathing suit. I mean, I saw Emmy all the time, but I guess I wasn’t really looking. And I hadn’t seen her in a bathing suit since the previous summer.

  I’ll tell you another thing. I sure wasn’t expecting her to be in a bikini. In past summers she’d always worn a one piece – some weathered speedo that kept everything covered. But not this day. This
day she wore a skimpy red bikini.

  However, it wasn’t only her body that caught my attention. It was everything. Her silky hair, her heart-shaped lips, her confidence. She’d always been pretty, but now she was hot. And the way it affected me scared me to death.

  Ever since that day I’ve been careful around Emmy. I’ve kept my distance more than usual. I’ve tried my best to keep my thoughts pure. But now that she’s sitting here all vulnerable and acting like she wants me to kiss her, it’s too much. My thoughts are running wild, and there’s no reigning them in. When her eyes meet mine once again, I practically groan aloud.

  I can’t back down from this. Not now. I should’ve known the minute I touched her cheek that I wouldn’t be able to maintain self-control. I tilt my face, lining my lips up with hers. Giving her one last chance to back out, I pause momentarily. But she doesn’t move. She barely breathes, and I realize she wants this too. This spurs me on, and I softly, tenderly, press my lips to hers. They feel like I thought they would – soft, supple, moist – and taste like fruit-scented lip-gloss. Emmy has a thing for smells. Fruity ones mainly. Stepping into her bedroom is like walking into one of those lotion shops in the mall. She constantly burns candles and reapplies scented lotions. It drives Cal nuts. And truthfully, it used to bother me too. Now I dream of it. I fantasize about her apple lotion and cherry lip-gloss. And now I know how it tastes. It’s as delicious as I thought it would be.

  Sliding my tongue out, I lick along the seam of her lips until she parts them. As my tongue slips into her mouth, her arms wrap around my middle. I bring my other hand up to cup her face and draw her closer. There is a desperation in the way she responds to my kiss, like she’s using it to erase all the pain from the evening. And I gladly let her. I deepen the kiss, my fingers massaging into her hair, tangling into the strands. My body heats up as her hands rake up my back, as her tongue melds with mine. We don’t let go. We hold tighter. And I wonder if Emmy has wanted this as badly as I have.

  As our lips move in sync, it hits me that this is Emmy. This is a girl I know inside and out. I’ve tugged at her pigtails, chased her around the yard, and held her in my arms when she was hurt. I know every expression she makes. I know the best moments of her life, and I also know the worst.

  And that makes this so much more special.

  It’s also the reason I have to stop it.

  Frantically, I tug my lips from hers. The minute the cold air hits them, I feel the emptiness. I think of kissing her again, but resist the urge. As much as I want Emmy, I can’t do this. We can’t do this.

  As if in response to my thoughts, I look past Emmy’s shoulder. And standing on the sidewalk is the reason this will never work.

  “Cal,” I mumble.

  EMMY

  “What?” I ask, certain I misheard him.

  “Cal,” he repeats.

  Nope. I heard correctly.

  “Um…no, I’m Emmy,” I joke, because I have no idea what else to say. Why would my brother’s name be the first thing out of Christian’s mouth after kissing me? I don’t even want to touch that question with a ten-foot pole.

  “No, Emmy.” He points his index finger behind me. “Cal is right there.”

  I peer over my shoulder, spotting my brother moving toward us. “Oh.”

  Christian’s hand lights on my arm. Goosebumps arise on my flesh as the memories of his gentle touch and heart-thumping kiss flood my mind. I look up at him, and he throws me a cautionary expression. “This. Never. Happened,” he says firmly, punctuating each word.

  My stomach tumbles to the ground. His words sting, but I’m determined not to let it show. How many times am I going to let a guy stomp on my heart tonight? “Right.” I nod, and pull in a deep breath. Then I turn, grabbing the door handle.

  “Emmy.” Christian reaches for me, but I yank the door open and step out of the car.

  “Hey, Cal.” I force a smile I don’t feel.

  Cal’s forehead furrows under the bill of his hat. Even though he had a date tonight, he’s wearing standard Cal attire – jeans, a t-shirt, and his baseball cap. Actually, it’s similar to what Christian is wearing, except he’s not wearing his ball cap tonight. Cal glances suspiciously between me and Christian, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. I wonder if he saw us kiss. A part of me hopes he did. Then it can be out in the open. Another part of me hopes he’ll never find out. I can tell Christian is hoping the latter by the panic-stricken look on his face. My stomach knots. “What’s going on?” Cal asks.

  “Nothing,” I answer quickly. Too quickly. Christian’s eyes flash. Cal’s quizzical expression deepens. “Christian just gave me a ride home from the bonfire party.”

  “You went to the party?” The puzzled look is replaced by one of anger.

  “Ashley wanted to go,” I explain.

  “You went with Ashley?” His face darkens. Cal doesn’t like Ashley much, but he likes her more than Josh, so I know I made the right choice in mentioning her over him.

  “You know how she likes to party.” I shrug. A car drives past our house, its lights flickering over our bodies. A breeze whisks my hair softly, and a few pieces flutter over my face. “Anyway, she was too drunk to take me home, so Christian did.”

  “You weren’t drinking, were you?” Cal takes a step toward me.

  “No.” I breathe in his face. “See.”

  He scrunches up his nose and waves his hand in the air. “God, Em, that’s gross.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I punch him good-naturedly in the arm. “My breath doesn’t stink.” At least Christian didn’t seem to be bothered by it. My gaze drifts over to Christian still sitting in the front seat. Our eyes meet, but he quickly averts his. Another chink in my heart. I’ve got to get out of here. “Anyway, Christian got me home safe. He did his brotherly duty for the evening so you can stop worrying about me now, Cal.” I step past him. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night.”

  “Good night, Emmy,” Christian calls after me.

  My shoulders stiffen momentarily, but I don’t bother responding. At this point I’m not even sure I can. My heart feels shattered, torn into a million pieces. A few minutes ago I thought I’d finally gotten what I’ve always wanted. But you know the old saying – be careful what you wish for. Everything comes with a price. However, this price is a little too high. It was bad enough when I had to contend with my fantasies about Christian. I wanted him without even knowing what that meant. Now I do. I know what it feels like to have his lips against mine, to feel his arms around me. And I also know what it feels like to have him reject me, toss me aside like I’m nothing more than a dirty secret.

  This. Never. Happened.

  He said the words with such force, such finality. Whatever happened between us is something he regrets. And that’s too much to bear. With my head down, I hurry toward the front door. My hands are slick and shaky when I reach it, and it takes longer than I’d like to get my key into the lock. I practically sigh aloud when the door opens, and I step inside. It’s dark and quiet. Mom and Dad must already be in bed.

  Thank god for small favors.

  Sometimes Mom stays up late writing in her office, but I don’t detect the sound of fingers on a keyboard. Peering around the corner, I note that her office door is closed and no light escapes underneath. I blow out a breath. The last thing I want is a heart-to-heart with her right now. Mom writes romance novels, and because of that she mistakenly thinks she’s an authority on it. I’ve reminded her over and over that making up fictional stories is not the equivalent of being a relationships counselor. Her characters aren’t real people. The reason their relationships work so well is because they’re made up. But rational conversations never go well with Mom. I swear that woman not only writes about fictional worlds – she lives in one. I’ve gotten used to it over the years. But it was tough when I was younger and I was the only kid who was still standing outside of the elementary school hours after school ended because Mom was too taken by her latest story to rem
ember my schedule. She can remember every line in every book she’s ever written, but she can’t remember when I have a minimum day. Go figure.

  Feeling the weight of the day, I slump down the hallway toward my bedroom. My shoulders feel heavy like I’m wearing a giant coat instead of a thin jacket over my favorite pink tank top. I’ve almost reached my room when the front door pops open behind me. I swing around as Cal steps into the house, closing the door behind him.

  “Hey,” he says when he spots me. “What was going on between you and Chris?” With his thumb he points over his shoulder.

  “What do you mean?” I feign confusion.

  “C’mon, give me some credit. I see what’s going on.”

  “You do?” My insides coil into tiny knots, and I struggle to catch my breath. Does he know? Am I that obvious? He comes closer, raising one brow the way he always does when he catches me doing something I’m not supposed to. Is that what’s happening now? I suppose it is. I never should’ve allowed Christian to kiss me. Clearly he saw an opportunity. Or maybe he was just trying to prove a point. Isn’t that what Cal and Christian are always doing? Trying to teach me a lesson or some crap like that? Then again, maybe it had nothing to do with me at all. Perhaps Chris was using me as a way to get to Josh. Whatever it is, it’s clear his feelings for me aren’t what mine are for him. Josh may be a jerk sometimes, but at least I know where I stand with him. Christian likes to think he’s so much better than Josh, but what he did tonight was pretty low.

  “Sure. You’re getting older. More mature. And I know you think you don’t need me and Chris looking out for you,” he says, “but you’re wrong. You have no idea what guys are capable of, little sis.”

  Trust me, I do. I snort, but don’t say what I’m thinking. Then he’ll want an explanation, and I don’t have one I’m willing to give him.

  “Luckily, you have Chris and me around to protect you.”

  Yeah, I’m lucky all right.

  He musses my hair with his hand.

  “Stop.”

  “Make me.”