Cross Check (Marriage Contract #1)

by Colleen Masters

  “This may be the most awkward conversation that’s ever occurred between two people,” Emerson replies, “‘Hey, I know you’re about to be my sister, but I really want to do you.’”

  That sets us off again. We collapse into each other until we end up lying on our backs, chests heaving, staring up at the stars. Our hands are clasped, our smiles wide. Despite the crapiness of the whole situation, here we are together. On the same page.

  “Promise me it will happen,” I say to him. “Promise me that on my birthday, we’ll get to be together. The way we want to be.”

  “I promise,” Emerson says, giving me a sweet, chaste kiss on the forehead. “But. Um. I hope you don’t mind if I ask another sort of awkward question,” Emerson goes on, his fingers tightening ever-so-slightly.

  “Shoot,” I tell him, turning my head his way.

  “Well. You know, I’m no novice, when it comes to sex,” he begins, delightfully blunt as ever. “I’ve been with a few girls in my time. But in your case...I guess what I mean is...Have you ever...?” My smiles fades at once as I jerk my face away from his. He senses my entire body tense up in the wake of his question. “Shit,” he groans, “That was so stupid of me—”

  “No,” I cut him off, steeling myself for what I have to say, now. “No, it wasn’t stupid. It’s just...not an easy question for me to answer. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to, it’s just...bear with me.”

  He squeezes my hand, but doesn’t say a word. I take a breath and go on.

  “I was going to tell you this earlier. When we were trading secrets. I wanted to explain what happened at the diner tonight, but I was afraid that you...anyway. The short answer to your question is, yes, I’ve had sex before. The slightly longer answer is that I didn’t really want to. Didn’t want to at all, actually.”

  “Oh, Abby...” Emerson says, his voice as soft as I’ve ever heard it. “Do you mean—?”

  “It was back in freshman year,” I go on, plowing ahead before I lose my nerve. “I was sort of a late bloomer, so I was really only beginning to get attention from some guys at our school. There was one in particular that I’d had a crush on since about Kindergarten. He and I were at the other middle school, not yours. Anyway, he teased me pretty mercilessly through eighth grade—for being smart, for always having my nose in a sketchbook, all that. But come high school, that teasing gave way to flirting. And we started, uh, hanging out.

  Right when my mom died, he was still sort of in the picture. We weren’t dating or anything, but we were spending time together. I went over to his place one night when my dad was wasted, just to get out of the house for a minute. His parents were away, so it was just us. He’d broken into his dad’s liquor cabinet and offered me something to drink. Said it would make me feel better. I had some booze, he gave me more. He over-poured my drinks. I got drunk. Then he started touching me, pushing me further than we’d been before. By then, we’d only really kissed. But he was feeling me up, trying to undress me. I told him to stop, I was too wasted to enjoy it, to want it. But he kept on me. Said that would make me feel better, too.

  He was much bigger than me, and I was so far gone. I passed out in the struggle. When I woke up a few hours later, I was naked from the waist down. He was asleep. Passed out. There was some blood on my thighs, and...you know…everything else. I got dressed, went home, and took a shower. He and I never spoke again. The only other person who knows this besides you is Riley. But I need you to know. It’s important to me that you do.”

  A heavy, thick cloud of silence descends as Emerson’s jaw pulses with rage.

  “This guy,” he says, his voice ragged, “It was Tucker. Wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, “Yes. It was.”

  “Abby, I’m so sorry,” Emerson says, “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry no one was there to help you. If I’d known—”

  “What, you would have beat him up for me?” I tease, trying to force a little bit of levity into my confession.

  “For starters,” Emerson says resolutely.

  “That wouldn’t fix anything,” I reply. “Even if I’d told someone, no one would have believed me. I only would have gotten a reputation for being a lying whore at school. With his popularity, his family’s reputation in town...I wouldn’t have stood a chance. I’d rather get to leave this place behind and forget about every one of these assholes than give them the satisfaction of dragging me through the mud.”

  “I just...I wish there was anything I could do for you,” Emerson says, “To make things better. Anything.”

  “This is a pretty good start,” I tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “We can’t change the past, you know. But we do get to decide what the future looks like.”

  “Right,” he says softly, tucking my hair behind my ear. “You’re right.”

  The sky is just starting to lighten overhead as we make our way back inside. We have school later today, as mundane as it is to think of. We pause at the top of the stairs, just before peeling off toward our own rooms. Emerson lays his hands on my bare upper arms, looking at me intently.

  “Thank you for telling me everything,” he whispers, “It means so much that you can trust me with that.”

  “I’d trust you with anything,” I reply, taking his face in my hands. Standing on my tiptoes, I kiss him earnestly, swiftly. This time, he doesn’t hold what I want just out of reach.

  We step away from each other and dart into our rooms. As my face hits the pillow at last, I realize the enormity of everything that’s come to pass in these last 24 hours. The diner incident. The impromptu date night and steamy make out session with Emerson. Dad and Deb’s big announcement. My confession to Emerson. Our agreement for my eighteenth birthday.

  “Man,” I sigh, drifting off to sleep, “I’d better give this to Riley in small doses, or else she’s going to lose her shit. Permanently.”

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  Sure enough, my best friend is flabbergasted and delighted when I give her the scoop of all that’s gone down with me since last we spoke. We’ve decided to spend gym class huddled at the top of the football field bleachers, now that our teacher has given up on trying to make us participate in class. It’s a good thing, too, because the squeal that Riley emits when I let her in on my and Emerson’s plans for Saturday would be enough to burst any unaccustomed eardrums.

  “What the fucking fuck?!” she shrieks, shoving her hands through her black curls. “This is too much. In the best way possible. Where is it gonna go down? What are you gonna wear? What if the sex is just too good and you have to rush off and elope just to beat your parents to the punch so that they’re the fucked up ones? What if—?”

  “Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Tiger,” I laugh, “Neither of us expects this to be a long term thing. It can’t be, with our parents getting married. We’d probably hardly even see each other after graduation, anyway, even if they weren’t tying the knot. This is a onetime thing. A gift to ourselves. Please don’t get your hopes up for some happy ending.”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to?” she scoffs, “My imagination can wring a happy ending out of any situation. I’m holding out hope for you two.”

  “I wish I had your optimism then,” I laugh. “Really, I do.”

  “And I can’t believe you told him about...you know,” she says, growing somber. “You must really trust this guy, huh?”

  “I know it’s crazy, but I really do,” I tell her. “It might blow up in my face and ruin me for life, but hey, nothing’s been able to ruin me yet. So, I like my chances.”

  “See? You’re plenty optimistic,” Riley says, raising an eyebrow. “Well. Optimistic-ish.”

  Later that evening, I’m curled up on the couch going through some mind-numbing calculus homework. I have my headphones in, trying to drown out Deb and Dad’s pre-wedding chatter with some Kings of Leon. They’re huddled over the kitchen table, going over the last-minute plans for their spur-of-the-moment wedding ceremony and
honeymoon. I can’t even think about how excruciating it will be for Emerson and I to be alone here for the whole week of their honeymoon, unable to touch each other ever again. Maybe Riley will let me crash at her place. Or I guess I could just invest in a chastity belt.

  “Hey honey!” Deb chirps happily as Emerson strolls in through the front door. I look up as he enters and tug out an earbud, in case we’re all about to have a family meeting.

  “Hi Mom,” he replies shortly. To my surprise, he makes a beeline to where I’m sitting on the couch and plops down next to me. I feel unaccountably nervous to be near him in our parents’ presence. What if they can sense what’s gone on between us?

  But of course, they’re oblivious to the end. For once, their narcissism is working in our favor.

  “Our Best Man and Maid of Honor, here together,” Deb goes on, clasping her manicured hands in elation.

  “When did that get decided?” I ask under my breath.

  “Don’t look at me,” Emerson replies, “It’s the first I’m hearing of it.”

  “We’ll need you kids up bright and early on Sunday morning,” my dad calls over to us. “We’ve got the justice of the peace booked from noon until half past. Gotta make it snappy.”

  “How romantic,” I observe.

  “And guess what else,” Dad goes on, his cheerfulness dwindling just a hair, “Grandma Jillian and Grandpa Frank are going to be here to celebrate.”

  “Really?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. My grandparents, Frank and Jillian Rowan, adore me, but their relationship with my dad is rather spotty. Grandpa Frank is pretty critical of my dad’s history of “freeloading” off their old money.

  “They insisted,” my dad smiles tightly.

  It’s actually something of a comfort that Dad doesn’t get along with his parents, either. Just goes to show that it runs in the family. Grandma and Grandpa have been supporting our little family since I was born. They really adored my mom, Sandy, and pretty clearly thought she was doing my dad a favor by sticking around. Most of the money for my schooling, clothing, and extracurriculars still comes from them. They’ve even offered to pay my way through college. Well, whatever I can’t cover with scholarships, that is.

  “Well. I’ll be sure to get to the church on time,” Emerson says with sarcastic enthusiasm. “But I won’t be around much beforehand.”

  “What?” I ask, whipping around to face him. What the hell is he talking about? He has to be around.

  “What do you mean, Emerson?” Deb presses her son.

  “A friend of mine is throwing me an eighteenth birthday party at his parents’ beach house this weekend. A whole bunch of people are going to be there,” Emerson says casually.

  “Is that so?” I whisper, my stomach flipping over. He’s ditching me, and our rather important plans, to hang out at the beach?

  “Oh...Well, that’s nice!” Deb smiles. “You’ve always been such a popular boy, Emerson. It’s good that you’ll be with your friends on your birthday.”

  “Uh-huh,” Emerson says, examining his fingernails.

  “Guess it’ll just be the three of us celebrating your birthday then, Abby,” my dad says.

  “So it would seem,” I reply, glaring at Emerson. I can feel a hard knot forming in my throat. Was he just messing with me last night, when he told me that he wanted me? Has he been telling all his friends about how his pervy almost-stepsister secretly wants to jump his bones? I can’t believe I let my guard down. I should know better than to trust anyone at all.

  “Actually, you know what?” Emerson says, finally shifting his gaze my way, “My friends probably wouldn’t mind too much if you tagged along, Abby. I’ve got a spare seat in the car.”

  “You...I...What?” I stammer, uncomprehendingly.

  “Oh, you should go, Abby!” Deb says enthusiastically, “You don’t want to hang out with us old farts on your birthday. Go have fun with Emerson and his friends! Don’t you think she should, Bob?”

  “Sure,” my dad says, “Sounds like it could be a fun time for you kids.”

  “What do you say, Abby?” Emerson asks. There’s a glint in his blue eyes, a spark of secrecy. I don’t quite know what he’s up to, or why he’s scrapped our plans for the weekend, but anything would be better than being stuck here alone with our parents on my birthday.

  “OK,” I say flatly, leaning back against the couch. “Sounds...great.”

  “As long as you’re on time for the wedding,” my dad reminds us warningly.

  “Super,” Emerson grins, snatching away the bag of Milano cookies I’ve been noshing on. “We’ll leave tomorrow after school. Get as much out of the weekend as we can.”

  “Sounds good, Bro,” I say, glowering at him as he steals my snack.

  “Oh, isn’t that just so precious?” Deb grins, as Emerson disappears upstairs.

  I watch his retreating back, my mind reeling. I’m hurt, and confused, and incredibly disappointed about our plans being scattered. How can he think it’s OK to just blow me off like this, after everything I shared with him last night? It doesn’t make any sense. He seemed just as eager to have some...alone time together as I did. What the hell gives?

  My concentration has been absolutely demolished. There’s no way I’m getting any more homework done today. Unwilling to listen to my parents’ sickly-sweet chatter, I head up to my own room, lock the door, and whip out my battery-operated boyfriend. If I’m not going to get any action this weekend after all, I’d better stock up on the self love every chance I get. I’m well accustomed to taking care of myself, anyway.

  * * *

  Still smarting from Emerson’s dismissal, I leave for the school the next morning without even sticking around to wish him a happy birthday. I halfway expect the rest of the student body to burst out laughing as I hurry into school, convinced that Emerson will have spread the word about what a dramatic weirdo I am.

  But as usual, my entrance into homeroom goes unnoticed by all my peers save Riley. My best friend waves me over, noticing at once that I’m in a terrible mood.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks, as I sit down beside her.

  “Oh, you know,” I sigh, “Just everything in the entire world.”

  Without a word, she takes my hand and tows me toward the classroom door. Our teacher, a beleaguered, balding man in his forties, looks up from his game of computer solitaire as we march past.

  “Excuse me,” he says testily. “Where do you ladies think you’re going?”

  Without missing a beat, Riley spins around to face him, plants a hand on her hip, and says, “We both just got our periods simultaneously. They’re super heavy too. Like, horror-movie level. So we’re gonna go take care of our Woman Issues together. OK? Bye!”

  The teacher’s face drains of color as we traipse out of the room and slam the door behind us. The rest of our schoolmates are in their classrooms already, so we’re all alone as we beat a quick path through the halls and hole up in one of the girls’ bathrooms. We squeeze ourselves into one of the larger stalls and settle down for a good long talk. Riley cracks a window so that she can enjoy a gossip-session cigarette, and I tell her about Emerson’s surreptitious change of plans for the weekend.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” she says, putting her smoke out on the windowsill.

  “Tell me about it!” I exclaim, letting my head fall back against the tile wall.

  “There’s got to be more to it,” she says resolutely. “Why would he all but profess his love for you one night—?”

  “He professed his wanting to bone me,” I correct her, “Not his love.”

  “Right,” Riley says, rolling her eyes, “Why would he profess his whatever, only to leave you high and dry? Doesn’t follow.”

  “You’re the expert on man-brains,” I reply, “You tell me what I’m supposed to make of all this.”

  “Just wait it out,” she tells me, resting her hands on my shoulders. “I’m sure there’s an explanation, here.”

  Having
unloaded some of my frustration, I feel like I can at least make it through the rest of the day without exploding. We’ll see how I feel once I’m cooped up in some beach house with a bunch of Emerson’s buddies. As I step out of the girl’s bathroom with Riley right behind me, I very nearly crash into a wall of person that appears out of nowhere.

  “Christ,” I mutter, stepping out of the way just in time. “Watch where you’re—”

  “There you are,” a very familiar voice says. “I was looking for you.”

  I glance up only to find Emerson’s blue eyes looking back at me. I do my best to tamp down my automatic excitement at seeing him. Can’t let him get me all riled up, now.

  “Oh?” I say, feigning indifference. “And why were you looking for me?”

  “Because we’re getting out of here,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Right now. Let’s go.”

  “I thought you said we were heading out after school?” I reply, even more confused.

  “I say a lot of things,” Emerson shrugs, “But right now, I’m saying that you and I are getting in my Chevy and blowing this pop stand. What, are you afraid to miss math class or something, Miss Rowan?”

  “Don’t be an ass,” I mutter. “If you’re so hell-bent on leaving now, fine. It’s your freakin’ birthday, after all.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he grins, turning on his heel. “Let’s go, Sis.”

  He walks away toward the student parking lot, and I turn to stare at Riley, bewildered.

  “What are you waiting for?” she whispers, giving me a little push, “Go with him!”

  “All right, all right,” I mutter, and set off after Emerson.

  I’ve never straight-up ditched school before, but I can’t let him see that I’m nervous about this little operation. Struggling to appear cool as a cucumber, I duck through the front doors on his heels and hurry over to his Chevy. Holding my breath as I slide into the passenger seat, it occurs strange to me there’s no one else hitching a ride with us. I thought we’d be transporting at least a couple of Emerson’s meat head friends to the beach with us.