“Hey, are you okay?” Will asked.
“Obviously not!” she yelled, pushing him away.
Will caught her hand and pulled her back. “Em, what’s wrong?”
“Like you care.” She shook his grasp and ran to the elevator, frantically pushing the down button.
“Maybe I do,” he blurted when he caught up to her.
Emma turned, flooring him with her stunning green eyes. She looked furious, but the quiver in her pink lips told him her tears were about to get worse. No, no, no! Not good! Will couldn’t handle crying girls. It was his kryptonite. And anytime he witnessed it he found himself promising anything to make them stop. One time he’d promised his little cousin he’d buy her a pony!
Hoping to avoid being sucked into Emma’s helpless blubbering, Will pulled her into a hug. Perhaps not the best move. Touching Emma might actually be worse than seeing her cry, which from the shaking of her shoulders, Will was sure she was doing anyway.
He ran a soothing hand over her glossy blonde hair, filling the hall with her intoxicating vanilla fragrance. The girl smelled like a damn Christmas cookie. It was irresistible.
“How ‘bout we go get some hot chocolate and talk about it?” Will offered.
Emma looked up, her watery green eyes making his heart stutter. “Jacques?” she asked, sounding slightly hopeful.
Jacques Torres Chocolate was Emma’s favorite. She and Will used to go there to do their homework after school when they were barely teenagers. They would cut through Central Park and Will shot films along the way, each time claiming the current reel was his ‘best yet’.
Will had thousands of hours of Emma twirling through Central Park, posing on benches, kicking through piles of leaves and clutching hot chocolate in her mittened hands. The mere mention of Jacques brought all those memories rushing back to him. He’d been kidding himself thinking he was over Emma. As he stared into her dazzling eyes, he realized that would be like getting over the stars—impossible.
“Where else?” Will replied, softly.
The elevator dinged and the door finally opened. Will extended his arm and Emma took it. And suddenly, it was as if she’d never left.
7
Emma
Emma forgot how nice it was to have someone to talk to. Will sat across from her in their usual spot at Jacques Torres. Eli, the barista still worked there and he even remembered Emma, right down to her preference for smoked sea salt, orange zest and marshmallows in her cocoa.
Sipping her favorite concoction across from Will made Emma’s heart skip a beat. His gorgeous smile was so familiar it tugged at the old ache she’d been trying to bury. And for the first time since she’d come back to New York, Emma felt like she was home.
“So,” Will said. “Is it really that bad?”
“What?”
“Your father’s new place? I just figured that’s what you were upset about.”
Emma laughed. “Actually, yeah. It’s pretty awful. I don’t even have my own room. Can you believe that?”
“Harsh. Where are you supposed to sleep?”
Emma slouched at the prospects. “I don’t know. The couch?”
“Well, my offer still stands.” Will held his hands up before she could sneer at him. “Let me clarify. My purely innocent offer still stands. My brothers haven’t been home in years and my folks are out of town as usual, so there’s plenty of empty bedrooms at my place if you get tired of the couch.”
“Thanks. I may take you up on it,” she replied, thinking of the uncomfortable-looking white slab that her father was trying to pass off as a couch. “When did you move by the way?”
Will waved his hand dismissively. “A few months ago. Sore subject.”
Emma nodded, understanding completely.
“So tell me something good,” Will said, changing the subject. “How’s school?”
Emma groaned. “Sore Subject.”
“Really? I thought you were loving it in Boston.”
That’s what Emma had told her best friend Kensie Davenport. Kensie was the only person Emma kept in contact with from her old school. And if Will knew Emma was boasting that Boston was great . . . Did that mean he was asking about her?
She rubbed her temples then took another sip of hot chocolate. Emma was never good at the mind games and social politics that went along with trying to figure out if guys were into her. She liked to be straightforward. And based on what her parents had gone through, Emma was convinced it was the best policy.
“Yeah, I don’t know why I said that. I hate Boston.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s not New York.”
“That’s it?” Will asked. “Seems cruel to hate on a city for not being New York. I mean by that logic all cities suck.” Will’s eyes twinkled like ice chips as he recited one of his favorite quotes. “You haven’t lived until you’ve died in New York,” he said with bravado.
She laughed. It was so good to be around someone who got it. New York City was the best place in the world. And not many people had experienced the city like Emma had, but Will was one of the few. Growing up in Manhattan, going to elite prep schools, having a doorman, car service and private shopping accounts at Barney’s . . . It was amazing. But all of it disappeared when Emma moved to Boston.
It wasn’t just the posh lifestyle she missed. Emma missed New York. The electric buzz that seemed to breathe life into the thriving metropolis. The eclectic melting pot of food and style. The constant movement of music and art. New York was alive. And that pulse was what Emma missed most. Well that, and her family.
For as long as she could remember, she wanted to study fashion, and New York was the mecca for that. Lately, her mother had tried to convince Emma that Boston had style too, but so far she hadn’t seen anything she liked. Especially not at her stuffy new school, Stanton Prep.
“It’s not just that Boston isn’t New York,” Emma complained. “I sorta hate my new school, too.”
“You’re going to Stanton, right?”
Emma nodded and took another sip of her cocoa trying to hide her surprise. How did Will know so much about her? He said it so casually she wondered if maybe it was something everyone knew. Rumors did circulate around her old school like wildfire. Maybe she was reading too much into Will’s knowledge.
“I heard Stanton’s a great school,” Will added.
“It is, but most of the kids there suck.”
“Why?”
“They think they’re beyond superior. Which is ridiculous considering half of them haven’t ever been to New York City.”
“The nerve!” Will teased.
Emma swatted him.
“So you’re seriously telling me you don’t rule that school by now?”
“Not even close. There’s this group of rich snobs there and get this, they call themselves the Goldens.”
“You’re kidding?”
“I wish.”
Will’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I could totally make a movie about this.”
Emma laughed. “You sound like Megan.”
“Megan?”
“She’s a film student and like the only cool person I’ve met.”
“I like her already. Tell me more.”
“There’s not much to tell. Her best friend moved to Ireland, so Megan sorta took me in. But besides with her, I just don’t feel like I can fit in there.”
Will reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “That doesn’t sound like the Emma I remember. She could do anything.”
Emotion pressed at the back of Emma’s throat. She hadn’t felt like that Emma in a long time. “I miss that Emma.”
“We all do.”
She looked up. “What?”
“Well, most of us. Marcy Foy and Liz Vanderveer are still battling to fill your shoes as queen bee of the hive, but St. James isn’t the same without you.”
“God, I haven’t heard those names in a while.” Emma hesitated, but she had to ask, if only to p
rotect herself from a repeat of last year. “Are you and Liz together?”
Will nearly choked on his cocoa. “What? Liz? God no!”
Emma released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“I’ve missed you, Em.” Will squeezed her hand again. “All of us have. And that’s why you should come to the party tomorrow.”
“What party?”
“Cranston’s throwing an end of term party at the hotel tomorrow night. The whole class is invited. I know everyone would love to see you.”
“Oh,” Emma’s eyes flicked away from the intensity in Will’s. “I guess that would be fun. But I haven’t even told anyone I was back in town.”
“Not even Kensie?”
“No. I was sorta planning on just spending time with my father, but since that’s not gonna happen . . .”
“It sounds like you’re in need of some New York fun. We can go to Cranston’s together if you want?”
Emma shrugged and against her better judgment, blurted, “Okay.”
Will grinned. “It’s a date.”
Emma let her heart flutter hesitantly. Will had always been charming, and that was half the trouble. Every girl at St. James would let his grin charm them right out of their plaid skirts.
But Emma decided she would try to keep the past in the past. She needed to see if she could handle being back in New York. So far, Will wasn’t acting like the horny boy who broke her heart. Actually, he seemed more like the Will she’d grown up with. The one she’d been friends with and spent years pining for. He was certainly being more thoughtful and chivalrous than she remembered.
He’d been genuinely kind to her since he’d found her rushing teary-eyed from her father’s apartment. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Emma had changed in the year she’d spent in Boston, and she found herself wondering if maybe Will had changed too.
8
Will
Will was pleased with himself as he walked Emma back to their apartment building. Mission accomplished. Emma was his date for tomorrow’s party. He’d finally have a chance to see if there was something between them or put his feelings to rest once and for all. Although, after their hot cocoa date, he was positive there was still something there. He’d felt that spark that always sizzled around him when he was with Emma. After all this time it hadn’t faded. Even when Emma had left him with only heartache and confusion.
Will still couldn’t figure out why Emma had left the way she had. They’d been friends since third grade. They’d practically grown up together. And Will didn’t know when things had changed, but somewhere between algebra and hot cocoa he’d fallen in love with her. Of course he never had the courage to admit it. He was terrified it would ruin their friendship. Especially since Emma had never given him any signs that she felt the same way.
The closest Will had come to admitting his feelings was when he’d asked Emma to their winter formal last year. And even then, the credit for his rare act of bravery belonged mostly to Cranston’s flask of whiskey. But that liquid courage-fueled moment had been the first time Will thought maybe, just maybe, he had a chance for something more than friendship with his dream girl.
Being with Emma today had brought all those old feelings rushing back. But the pain of their foiled formal came back with it. He was itching to ask her what happened that night and finally get some clarity, but things were going so well and he didn’t want to ruin it.
As they walked through the park in comfortable silence, Will found himself wondering if maybe bringing Emma to Cranston’s party wasn’t such a good idea. He and Emma had always been good one-on-one. It was when their friends got involved that things seemed to get messed up.
The silence grew uncomfortable when Will found himself alone in the elevator with Emma. He didn’t know why, but elevators always had a special ability to magnify awkwardness. And to make matters worse, someone had added a bough of mistletoe in the tastefully decorated car. Will cleared his throat when he noticed it, drawing Emma’s attention.
He watched her cheeks blush when she saw what he was staring at. She started to step away from him, but Will caught her hand. “Em, I didn’t mean it like that. That is, unless you wanted me to?”
Emma gave him a shy grin, filling Will with unusual courage. He took a step closer. Then another, until they were standing inches apart, directly under the mistletoe.
“Today’s been fun,” he murmured. “I’m really glad I ran into you.”
“Me too.”
“I meant what I said, Em. I’ve missed you. And if you need a place to stay while you’re in town, my door is always open. Plus, it’d be nice to get to spend some more time together.”
“I think I’d like that,” Emma whispered.
Will moved closer. “Me too.”
He brushed a strand of silky blonde hair away from Emma’s pale cheek. His hand stayed there, gently holding her face. Will stared into her wide green eyes, his heart hammering in his chest. This was it. The moment he’d imagined a million times in his head. He was seconds away from kissing Emma.
She closed her eyes and Will took a deep breath, trying to keep his hands from trembling as he pulled her closer. He tilted her delicate jaw angling it toward him. Their noses met and he felt the intake of breath as Emma’s lips parted, mere inches from claiming his. The elevator dinged and the doors began to part. Will hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped moving. Perhaps that was because the entire world had ceased to exist with Emma’s lips so close to his. Do it, Will. Now’s your chance, just kiss her, damn it.
But as the doors opened, the spell they were under began to dissolve. Will opened his eyes and nearly stumbled back in shock at the girl standing on his floor. “Liz?”
9
Emma
Emma’s eyes flew open and she took a step back from Will. “No, actually my name’s Emma.” She scathed. “Is it really that hard to remember the name of the girls you invite to your apartment? Or was she just the last skank you brought here?”
“Guilty,” chirped a shrill voice, sending chills down Emma’s spine. She turned to see none other than Liz Vanderveer standing just outside the elevator, smirking like the Grinch who stole Christmas.
“Hey Emmy, so good to see you,” Liz crooned, a saccharine smile plastered across her flawless red lips.
“Hey Lizzy,” Emma replied, equally fake.
Liz didn’t even give her a second glance. Instead she zeroed in on Will. “Will, darling, I’m so glad I finally caught you. Did you forget I was coming over?”
Will just stood speechless in the elevator until the doors began to close. Emma reached out to stop them, pushing past him into the hall. Suddenly, it seemed entirely too crowded with Liz standing between them. Intimate images of Liz and Will popped in Emma’s mind like flashbulbs, bringing back all the pain and embarrassment she thought she’d left behind. Liz flashed a grin like she knew exactly what Emma was thinking, and looped her arm through Will’s as if marking her territory.
Liz gazed up at Will, blinking her dark doe eyes. “Don’t worry, I used my key,” she said, proffering a shiny brass key that obviously belonged to Will’s apartment. “And I spoke to your mother earlier. She said they’ve been delayed and won’t be back until Christmas Eve. But don’t worry, I told her I’d stick around and keep you company.”
Emma felt her stomach lurch. She needed to get the hell away from Liz before she said something she’d regret.
“Come on,” Liz purred, tugging on Will’s arm. “I ordered in from, Jean-Georges. It should be here any minute.”
Emma didn’t even try to hide her snort of disgust and she stomped down the hall. Will hadn’t changed at all.
He called after her. “Emma, wait.”
“For what, Will? Looks like your apartment isn’t so lonely after all.”
Then she disappeared into her father’s apartment, slamming the door in his face.
The trouble with not having her own room after having her heart s
tomped on was that there wasn’t anywhere Emma could go to breakdown. And that’s exactly what she was on the verge of. All she wanted was a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and a bedroom to hide in. She decided to text Kensie. Maybe she could just hideout at her best friend’s house and binge cheesy Christmas movies until this nightmare of a holiday was over.
Emma retrieved her phone from where she’d left it charging in the kitchen. She unplugged it and tapped out a text to Kensie.
Emma: SOS. Can I come over?
Kensie: To my house? Where are you?
Emma: NYC. My father’s place. It’s a disaster.
Kensie: Are you joking?
Emma: Nope. I’m desperate. I need a place to crash.
Kensie: I’m in France!
Emma let out a tiny sob and squeezed her eyes shut. Of course Kensie was in France. She went skiing in the French Alps with her family every year over winter break. If Emma hadn’t been such an absentee friend she would’ve remembered that. Maybe this was what she deserved? Emma had lost touch with everyone from New York, even her best friend. It had been stupid to think she could just come back and pick up where she left off.
Kensie: Emma is everything okay?
Emma: Yeah. It’s nothing. Just family drama.
Kensie: I’m sorry, Em. I wish I was there. I miss you.
Emma: I miss you, too. Have fun in France.
Emma turned her phone off and slipped it into her pocket, deciding to scour the freezer. Pregnant people liked ice cream didn’t they? Ice cream was the only thing that could salvage Emma’s wreck of a day. She didn’t have her best friend or a room to hide it, but if she could just find some damn ice cream . . . But when she searched the freezer’s contents and came up empty, Emma’s mood only worsened. “No, of course that was too much to ask,” she muttered to herself. “Why would the home wrecker keep ice cream on hand?” she groaned, her head still half in the freezer.
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