by S. J. Sylvis
“Wait, what?!” Emmett’s face was stricken with confusion. “Why?!”
I used my fingers to smooth down my hair and desperately tried to calm my trembling hands. “I… I don’t know what this is but this isn’t me.” I paused and rolled my eyes. “It… can’t be me. I just… I have to go.”
Quickly, I turned on my heel and all but ran down the hallway to the table that held my purse. Good going, Fallon. Not only do you run off with some guy that your parents would literally shun you for even talking to, and make out with him heavily in some bar hideout, but you also leave your purse on the table. Terrific job! You deserve a gold star!
I snatched my purse with one hand and turned around, only to run right into a solid chest. “Ope,” I said, holding my probably-now-busted lip.
Emmett steadied my arms. “You can’t go. Not without at least giving me your number.” When I looked up at Emmett’s face, I could tell he felt exactly like me: conflicted.
Did I want to give him my number? Hell. Yes.
Did I want to continue on with what was happening in the hallway? More than anything.
But there was no point.
Even if I dressed him up in a suit and tie and brought him over to a family dinner, announcing to my parents, “Hey, never mind about marrying someone you basically picked out for me, I found this one all on my own! See! I can pick decent guys!” My father would take one look at him and explode right there at the table. Could you imagine what he’d do if he managed to ask Emmett what his profession was? You know, before exploding?
It would go like this:
“So, what do you do for a living, Emmett?” My father would raise an eyebrow and cast his glare downward.
Emmett would swallow and answer, “Oh, I tattoo for a living, and hey, did you see Fallon’s new belly button ring? I did that for her the first time we met.”
Then, I would pipe up beside Emmett, grabbing his hand under the table, and say, “Isn’t it romantic?”
I would then watch as my father finally exploded. Seconds later, I’d watch my mother do the same.
I shook my head softly and looked at the gleaming red exit sign. I couldn’t even bring myself to look Emmett in the face. “I’m sorry, Emmett. There’s just no point.”
Then I took my arms out of his grasp and headed for the door.
As soon as the night air hit my lungs, I ran to my car, slammed the door, and peeled out of Oak Hill like there was no tomorrow.
When I looked in my rearview mirror, the only thing I saw was dust… and that was probably a good thing.
◆◆◆
I stared up at the whitest ceiling I’d ever seen, wishing I could get out from under this spell. The spell that Emmett had put on me. I was convinced that he and Guy, the bartender, had put some love concoction in my beer, because I could not stop thinking about him.
Even when I was asleep!
I wasn’t a stranger to having a wet dream (is that what they were called for women, too?). I mean, there had been many times that I’d had some wild, out-of-this-world sexy dreams that had woken me up with a throb between my legs, but I had never dreamt about someone so real before.
My arousing dreams usually centered around David Beckham or Jackson Avery from Grey’s Anatomy (because who can resist a hot doctor?), but now they were centered around a head of ruffled dark hair, deep sea-colored eyes, and a look that pinned me to my very spot.
Kissing Emmett could, no doubt, set off explosions all the way from Oak Hill to Washington D.C. The talented way he moved his mouth over mine, the way his hands roamed my body, the small growl I heard when I’d pushed up against him.
I was breaking out in a sweat just thinking about it.
Laughing, I threw the covers off my legs and trotted over to my silk robe. I slipped it on, tying it firmly around my waist. I had been hoping the tight silk tie would cease the after-throb of my latest dream, but the only thing it did was remind me how Emmett had gripped my waist at the bar the other night.
I couldn’t sleep a wink when I’d gotten home, which was why, the next morning, I showed up to the club to meet my mother a half-hour late with unwashed hair.
The look on her face lay somewhere between utter disgust and pure disappointment. She very awkwardly dragged me by the arm, threw me into the restroom, and scolded me for my appearance. She wet a paper towel and shoved it into my hand, the wetness dripping onto the porcelain floor. “Clean yourself up! Derek’s mother is meeting us for lunch! Goodness, Fallon. What were you up to all night? You look a mess.”
What I was up to all night was overanalyzing my night with a piercing god. That was what I was up to all night.
Part of me wanted to just pull my dress up to show my mother the pink, glittery ball hanging off my belly button, just to see her reaction. But the good daughter—the one that didn’t want to disappoint her family any more than she already had—nodded her head and began wiping the leftover mascara from underneath her eyes.
It was like night and day. There was Fallon Addington, the daughter who did what her parents told her with a smile on her face. And then there was the Fallon Addington who was spontaneous and reckless and who had spent all night in a strange bar with people who felt more like friends than those she had known her entire life. It wasn’t just like night and day. It was more like Earth and Mars – like being on two completely different planets.
I had to admit now, standing here in my robe with my hazel hair falling wistfully around my flushed face, not an ounce of make-up on… I liked the Fallon Addington who didn’t have a care in the world. I liked the Fallon Addington I was the other night in Oak Hill—the spontaneous one who went for the kiss with the guy who gave her butterflies. The one who followed her heart and nothing else.
I sighed, feeling completely disgruntled with myself and how I just had to please my parents, and started making my way to their house.
My mother was probably long gone to the club for her daily tennis training with Diego, and my father was more than likely at the office, which meant it was safe.
I didn’t have to put my armor on. I could just go into the kitchen and sit with Lupe for a while. She was the best listener of all. She always had been. She was a good secret keeper, too, which was why I loved her so much.
As soon as I walked through the door, I basically morphed into a hound dog, my nose leading me to the best scent I had ever had the pleasure of smelling.
“Lupe, what on earth are you making, and can I have all of it?” I pulled out a stool and rested my elbows on the cool countertop.
Lupe turned around, her graying hair pulled back out of her face. A stark white apron sat on her plump belly. She smiled at me and placed her hands on her waist. “Sorry, dear, this is for tonight, so you’ll have to wait until then.”
My brow furrowed. “What’s tonight?”
Lupe turned back around and started to fiddle with something in the fridge. “The dinner. You know, with Derek’s parents?”
NOOOOOO. What?!
“What?! No one told me there was a dinner tonight!”
Lupe spun toward me, holding a big package of raw meat. My face instantly scrunched. “Your mother was certain that Derek had told you, but I was going to pop in later to warn you regardless.”
“Ugh, Derek and I don’t really talk much. He didn’t tell me.”
Lupe looked at me skeptically. “You and Derek don’t talk much? From the sound of your mother earlier, you and Derek are basically inseparable.”
I groaned. “She’s delusional.”
“Is she also delusional to tell me that you two are getting engaged soon?”
Lupe went back to chopping up celery and carrots on the wooden cutting board as I sat and simmered. She knew what she was doing – she was getting me to talk like she knew I needed to do.
I watched as she busied herself with the chopping, the smell of fresh seasonings filling the air little by little as she sprinkled them into a large pot.
“No,” I
whispered, my head falling onto my hands.
“No? So, you are getting engaged soon? I assumed as much, considering your mother had booked the club and has been on the phone talking to various people about how her daughter is getting married soon. I swear that woman could talk to a brick wall.”
I laughed and nodded my head. Lupe and I had a strange bond. She was polite and cordial to my parents and anyone that she came into contact with in the Addington house—except for me. She had been our cook for several years, making my school lunches since before I could even recite the Pledge of Allegiance and always placing small notes inside with inspirational quotes. And she’d always—and I mean always—put a small piece of chocolate in there, even when my mother insisted I needed to lose my “baby weight” (I was in the second grade, by the way).
But Lupe had grown to be my confidant, the hug that I never knew I needed. She’d been the best friend I’d ever had. That was because she was real. She had never held the truth from me, but she had never put me down, either. She accepted me for me. I’d never had to hide anything from her (except for that one time she made liver for dinner – there was no way I was putting that in my mouth).
“Things seem to be set in stone this time,” I said, sliding the cutting board closer to me so I could grab a carrot stick.
“And Derek? Do you like him?”
I shrugged, biting down.
“Fallon.” I looked up at Lupe as she placed her wooden spoon down. “You do know that this is your life, right?”
I snickered. “Yes, it’s just not the life that I want.”
“That’s what I’m saying. It’s your life, not your mother’s or your father’s. It’s not Derek’s. It’s yours. If you don’t want to marry Derek, then don’t. If you’re only marrying him for your parents’ sake, then you’re going to be one unhappy child, and I won’t always be there to make you tacos.”
I smiled. “I’m not a child, Lupe.”
“Are you sure? Letting someone dictate your life and make life-changing decisions for you sure sounds like a child to me.”
I swallowed, placing the carrot stick back down on the counter. Lupe’s round, chocolatey eyes softened. “I just want you to make sure you’re doing the right thing for you, Fallon. I’ve told you this before, and I’ll tell you again: if marrying someone—Derek, for example—for sake of the family name and to prove to your parents that you’re the daughter they’ve always wanted is what you want, then do that—but only if it makes you happy. It’s your life, Fallon, and you only get one. Remember that.”
I wanted to roll my eyes because that was Lupe’s favorite saying: You only get one life! She had told me that so many times over the years that I’d actually lost count, but each time she said it, it struck a chord.
I only get one life.
But what kind of life would I have if my parents just… disowned me? Where would I be without them?
“Oh, now stop looking like that, or I’m going to have to make you a taco.”
A small smile crept along my face. I peeked up at Lupe, and she glanced at the clock. “Fine, I’ll make you one taco if you at least think about what I’ve said. Deal?”
I smiled even wider. “Deal.”
Chapter Six
Emmett
My leg tapped up and down at the dinner table as I stared down at my now empty plate. I couldn’t get her out of my head. Fallon was like a damn siren. I’d spent one night with her, and somehow, she had embedded herself into the walls of my brain. My head was spinning. The song “Right Round” by Flo Rida was like our theme song, except for the fact that Fallon hadn’t even gone down on me.
Jesus, I couldn’t even imagine if we’d taken it that far. My dick was literally tingling at the dinner table—with my mother three feet away—thinking about Fallon and her lips traveling below my waistline.
I wanted nothing more.
“So, Emmett,” my mom started, placing her fork down. “Dawson told me that you might have a new girlfriend? Please tell me she’s better than that one hag… the redhead.”
I choked on my water because the only word I heard come out of my mother’s mouth was “head.”
Dawson snickered beside me, and I finally caught my breath. “I’m sorry, Mom, what did you say?”
She rolled her eyes. “Dawson said you have a new girlfriend, and I’m hoping she’s better than that one hag. You know… the redhead!”
I glanced over at Dawson, and his face was purple from trying to hold in his laugh.
“Carrie isn’t a hag, Mom. She’s just a liar.” I placed my water cup back down on the table and cleared my throat.
My mom shrugged. “Same difference. So, tell me more about the new girl.”
I groaned. “There is no new girl. Dawson is fucking delusional.”
“Language, Emmett! Goodness, you’re in the presence of women! Your mother being one of them!”
“Yeah! Language, Emmett!” Mia, Ivy’s younger sister, reiterated. I shot her a dirty look, which only made her laugh. Then Ivy laughed, and that caused me to chuckle along with them.
“There really isn’t a girl, Mom,” I repeated. “I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Lie. Lie. Lie. I know, I shouldn’t have lied to my mother, but… let’s just get it out in the open: I was no saint.
“Hmmph.” My mother pouted. “Well, someone better give me some grandbabies soon or else I’m going to be upset.”
That had Ivy choking on a green bean. I taunted her with a smirk and a look that said, “Ha. Your turn.” She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Okay, new subject!” Dawson interjected, allowing Mia to come to the rescue by telling us about her latest internship fiasco. Mia, I swore to God, had the world’s funniest stories about her college experiences. And, God love her, she was always rescuing us from awkward conversations with my mother.
My mom—well, I should say my parents—and I… we didn’t get along for a large part of my life. I could lie and say that they were shitty parents and they didn’t care much about me, but I knew—now that I was older and had a better hold on reality—that they were only trying their best. They just didn’t know how to handle me.
I was a hellion as a teenager. I got into so much trouble that I was still honestly surprised I hadn’t given them both a heart attack. They tried to cage me in, and I rebelled. Hard. I’d been on probation and sent to juvie. Then, finally, what broke the camel’s back was when they’d sent me to military school. The second I’d turned eighteen and graduated, I was gone.
I didn’t talk to them for years.
Literal years.
Dawson and I stayed in touch. But my parents? I cut them out of my life. I thought they were trying to control me—and they were—but that was only because they didn’t know me. They didn’t understand me.
Once I got my shit together and explored my options, that was when I finally cut the tension and we reconciled. I felt like I’d finally grown up a little, and I figured out what I wanted in life without the heavy tension my parents consistently put on my shoulders. I wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of what I wanted. In fact, I said those exact words right to my parents’ faces, and once I saw that flicker of awe on my father’s face, as if he were proud of me, that was when things got better.
They stopped pushing, and I stopped rebelling.
So here I was, having a monthly dinner with my mother, Dawson, Ivy, and occasionally Mia. The only thing missing was my father, but my parents had gotten divorced a few years ago.
Shit happens.
As soon as dinner was over and we’d given my mom several hugs, Ivy and Mia headed back to Ivy’s place, and Dawson and I went straight to Ships to play a round of pool.
“Why the fuck did you say that to Mom?” I hit Dawson in the shoulder as soon as he rounded my car.
“Say what?” he asked innocently.
I glared at him. “Tell her I have a new girl? I don’t have a new girl and you know it. Were yo
u talking about that chick from the other night?”
Dawson laughed. “That chick? Don’t fucking act like you ‘forget’ her name. You’re fuckin’ into her. You even said it yourself.”
I flexed my jaw, ignoring the truth. “Fallon. Yes, I remember her name, but it was just a random one-night hang out. Plus, you and I both know I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”
Dawson stopped right outside of the doors and turned to me, crossing his arms over his chest. I did the same, mimicking his stance. “Why though?”
“What?”
“Why aren’t you looking for anything? Is it because of Carrie? Are you still hung up on her?”
Carrie’s face flashed through my brain—her fiery red hair and wide smile. She was gorgeous. I had wanted us to last, but then she turned out to be a sneaky little bitch, stealing money from the shop when I’d hired her on. That was one mistake I wouldn’t make again. I would never hire someone because they were hot as fuck ever again.
“I’m not still hung up on her. I’m just not ready to dive into something serious again with anyone. And you should know better than anyone, the whole ‘not getting serious’ thing. Jesus, it took you, like, five fucking years before you even considered getting a girlfriend after Ivy left.”
Dawson stared at me, his eyes bouncing back and forth between mine. “I know, and that’s why I’m asking if you’re still caught up on Carrie. I’d get it, ya know.”
“I’m not caught up on anyone,” I stated, turning and heading for the door.
I swung it open, barely leaving it open long enough for Dawson to slide in behind me.
As soon as I glanced up to the bar, my body froze as if I were standing in the middle of the North Pole wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. My eyes zeroed in on the profile of a girl with chestnut-colored hair and a small, petite nose. Fallon was sitting beside a random guy at the bar with a barely touched drink in front of her and a notebook splayed below it. The guy kept glancing over at her, but she was too focused on the notebook. She reached up and tucked a piece of her silky hair behind her ear, her diamond stud gleaming underneath the lights. Then, she looked down at the paper and puffed out her cheeks, letting all of the air out.