by Amanda Abram
“But hey, why don’t we have our own pool party?”
Her head snapped up. “What do you mean ‘our own pool party’?”
What did I mean, exactly? The suggestion had come out of nowhere and I think I just said it to try to make her look less miserable. Thinking fast, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Um, well, I could ask my dad if he’d mind firing up the grill, and you and your parents could come over for a cookout. How long has it been since we’ve all gotten together?”
She stared at me blankly for a moment. “Are you saying you want to forego a pool party that all your friends are going to be at, to spend the day with me and our parents?”
“And a baby. Don’t forget about Abby.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
I laughed. “Nothing’s wrong with me. I just think it would be more fun than a stupid high school pool party. What do you say? You know you didn’t want to go anyway.”
What was wrong with me? Why would I want to spend a Saturday afternoon with two sets of parents, a baby and my dorky next-door-neighbor, when I could be spending it with my best friend, his insanely attractive cousin, and all my other friends? All just so that guys wouldn’t have the opportunity to hit on Emma?
Since when did I become her protector?
And why?
“Yeah, okay,” she finally replied. “That does sound way better. Have your parents call my parents and we’ll set something up.”
“Great,” I said, averting my gaze away from her. Grabbing the glass of lemonade I’d abandoned, I guzzled the rest of it as quickly as I could, wiping my mouth with my arm after I was done.
“Great,” I repeated, trying so hard not to look back at her as I made my way to the sliding glass door that led out to the deck. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, I guess?”
“You’re not going to help me anymore with my project?”
“Nah, I just remembered I agreed to look after Abby this afternoon, so Rachel can go get a mani-pedi.”
That was a lie. And judging from the doubtful expression on Emma’s face, she was aware of that.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Thanks for the help.”
“No problem.” I gave her a short wave before sliding open the door and bolting out of it.
I knew leaving her house as quickly as I did would tip her off to the fact something was off with me, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t take it one second longer standing in that kitchen with her in that bikini. It was threatening to put thoughts into my head that I simply didn’t want to have there.
Bad thoughts. Impure thoughts.
Which was exactly why I didn’t want her anywhere near that pool party tomorrow, because I wouldn’t be the only one having those thoughts.
When I arrived home, Rachel and Abby were sitting on the couch watching Sesame Street, both looking like they needed a nap.
“Hey,” I greeted them, leaning against the doorframe.
Rachel glanced up at me with a curious look. “What are you doing back so soon? You’ve only been gone like half an hour.”
I shrugged. “Emma wanted me to help her organize her book collection. I wasn’t really feeling it, so I just decided to come home.”
Rachel smiled and shook her head. “I love that girl.”
With a roll of my eyes, I said, “Hey, do you think Dad would be up for hosting a cookout tomorrow with the Dawsons?”
“Are you kidding?” she asked with wide eyes. “He’ll probably cry real tears of joy if you suggest it. Of course, he would be up for that. What’s the occasion?”
Keeping Emma away from horny douchebags. “Nothing. I just thought it would be nice for us all to get together. It’s been a while.”
“It has, and I agree. I’ll talk to your father when he gets home.”
“Cool, thanks.” I started to head up to my bedroom, but then I remembered the lie I’d told Emma. Not only did I feel bad about lying to her, but I also wouldn’t put it past her to investigate to see if Rachel had, in fact, gone for a mani-pedi. After all, I saw a few Nancy Drew books in her collection today and vaguely remembered her going through a detective phase when we were eight.
“Oh, hey,” I said, poking my head back in the living room. “You look like you could take a little break for a while. If you’d like, I could watch Abby while you go out and do something fun. Like, I don’t know, maybe get a mani-pedi or something.”
The look that came over her face was priceless. It was a mixture of confusion, relief, gratitude and excitement all rolled into one expression. “And now I’m going to cry real tears of joy. Logan, that is so sweet. I would love that.”
“Awesome,” I said, relieved that she was going to take me up on the offer.
She got off the couch, walked over to me and pulled me into a hug. “What did I do to deserve such an amazing stepson?”
“You married my dad.”
With a chuckle, she let go of me and ruffled my hair. “And you’re a comedian, too.” She glanced over her shoulder at Abby. “Abby, sweetie, mommy loves you, but I’m going to head out for a while without you, okay?”
Abby pointed at the TV screen and giggled at something Elmo just did. She couldn’t have cared less what mommy had to say.
“You’re my hero, Logan.” Rachel gave my shoulder a squeeze before scurrying off into the kitchen to grab her purse and keys.
“I’ll be back in time to cook dinner,” she said as she breezed past me and out the front door.
With a satisfied smile, I walked over to the couch and took a seat next to Abby. There. I had just successfully turned a lie into a truth.
But then my smile slowly morphed into a frown. Now, if I could only get the images of Emma in a bikini out of my head…
Chapter Eighteen
EMMA
“This is nice. We should do this more often.”
“Oh, definitely. I’m not sure why we haven’t been doing it all along.”
My eyes darted across the picnic table at my mom and Rachel as they exchanged pleasantries. When we arrived earlier, they both acted like they were best friends who hadn’t seen each other in years, when I was pretty sure I saw them talking to each other from their driveways just the day before.
Bored of their conversation, I turned my attention briefly to my dad and Mark, who were over by the grill slapping each other on the back and talking excitedly about something I couldn’t hear, but imagined was about sports.
Abby, who was sitting in Rachel’s lap, was busy shoving brightly colored plastic keys into her mouth, and looking like she was having a way better time than I was.
As for Logan, he’d had yet to make an appearance, much to my irritation. He was the one who had planned this whole thing, and now he was late for it. If he was even going to show up at all. For all I knew, he might have still gone to Matt’s pool party and was there right now, while I was stuck hanging out with two sets of parents and a baby. Maybe he was pranking me. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Not that I was in any rush to see him after what happened yesterday. He had no idea how hard it was for me to put on that bikini and show it to him, and his reaction solidified why I didn’t even want to buy one in the first place.
Apparently, I looked hideous in it.
That had to be the only explanation. First off, he told me I looked “fine”, which was bad enough, but the way he said it indicated I looked anything but fine. As soon as I asked him if it was okay enough to wear to the pool party, he suddenly had no interest in going anymore. As if I looked so terrible in that bikini that he didn’t want to be seen with me in it. Like it would embarrass him or something. Then he couldn’t get out of my house fast enough and wouldn’t even look at me on the way out.
He sure did know how to crush a girl’s confidence.
Or, more accurately, my confidence. He’d had no trouble at all staring at Riley in a bikini the other night.
And for some reason, that put me a bad mood and had me hoping this was a
ll a prank and that he was at Matt’s party, so I wouldn’t have to spend the afternoon with him.
Unfortunately, no more than three seconds later, Logan emerged from the sliding glass door and stepped onto the deck. His eyes immediately found me, and a weird look came over his face as he gave me a small wave.
Apparently, he was as happy to see me as I was him.
“Logan. Nice of you to join us.” Rachel motioned for him to take a seat at the table next to me.
“Hey,” he greeted me as he sat down on the bench. I immediately scooted a few inches away from him.
He looked offended but quickly shrugged it off. He smiled over at my mother. “Hello, Olivia. Thank you for coming.”
I swear my mom melted a little. “Thank you for inviting us.”
“It was my pleasure.” He turned to me and poked me in the arm. “How are you, Emma?”
I had to refrain from scowling at his question. “I’m fine,” I mumbled.
My mom cast me a curious glance before turning to Rachel and saying, “Is there anything I can help with in the kitchen?”
“As a matter of fact, there is.” Rachel glanced at me and Logan as she removed herself and Abby from the bench. “Can I get either of you something to drink?”
“No, thank you,” Logan and I replied at the same time.
A small smile played at my mother’s lips. “What, no jinx?”
I rolled my eyes. “Mom, please. Jinxing is juvenile.”
“Oh, pardon me, I didn’t know.” Mom rolled her own eyes before she and Rachel shared a chuckle and headed inside.
Logan glanced sideways at me with a smirk. “Jinxing is juvenile? We just jinxed last week. What’s with the sudden maturation?”
“We all have to grow up sometime,” I mumbled.
“Are you okay?” he asked, turning to me. “Because you seem like you’re in a bad mood.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the sudden ding of his phone interrupted me.
Taking it out of his pocket, he swiped at the screen and chuckled at whatever he saw.
“Riley keeps texting me,” he explained. “She claims we’re missing one hell of a party over there right now.”
His phone dinged again and this time, his eyebrows shot up as he let out a low whistle. “Whoa.”
Curiosity got the best of me and I leaned over to see what was on the screen. I automatically wished I hadn’t.
Riley had texted him a selfie of herself standing by the pool giving the camera a weird pouty, duck-face hybrid expression that looked simultaneously sad and sexy. The picture was taken from the ever-flattering perspective of her holding the phone high above her head, and as she looked seductively up at the camera, Logan could look down her bikini top at the plentiful cleavage displayed at the front and center of the screen.
“That’s hot,” he said with a smirk and I suddenly wanted to slap him upside the head. Hard.
That right there—that was the kind of reaction a girl wanted from a guy after modeling a bikini in front of him. Not the one he’d given me yesterday. He’d really hurt my feelings with his blatant distaste for seeing me in swimwear and now he was just rubbing salt in the wound by practically drooling on his cell phone at a stupid picture of Riley.
“Well, maybe you should go to the party instead, then,” I snapped, sliding off the bench and heading towards the pool.
He wasted no time in following me. “Okay, so I was right. You are in a bad mood. What’s up?”
I took a seat in one of the lounge chairs and folded my arms tightly over my chest, staring straight ahead at the pool water. I said nothing. What was there to say? That I was upset because he thought Riley looked amazing in a bikini but thought I looked ridiculous?
“Nothing’s ‘up’. I’m just saying if you’d rather be at the pool party, you should go to the pool party.”
“Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“I’m always trying to get rid of you, Logan.”
“Hey, not nice,” he mumbled and put on a fake pout that mimicked Riley’s. “Well, I don’t want to go to the pool party, so you’re stuck with me.”
“Oh joy,” I said, making sure to infuse as much sarcasm into those two words as I possibly could.
“Hey, kids!” my mom called over to us from the deck. “Come over here, we have something amazing to show you!” She then waved over to my dad and Mark at the grill to join them over at the picnic table as well.
Logan and I exchanged a curious glance and a shrug as we proceeded back to the table.
As we all took a seat, my mother stood at the head of the table, holding something behind her back. “You all will never guess what Rachel happened to stumble upon the other day that she couldn’t wait to show me.” She gave us only a few seconds to stare at her blankly before revealing the item she’d been hiding, holding it out straight in front of her for all of us to see. “Ta-da!”
It took me a second to realize what it was, and as soon as I did, I could feel all the color drain from my face. At first glance, it looked like a harmless but fiercely decorated three-ring binder. But upon closer inspection, it was easy to see it was a scrapbook.
And going even beyond that, it was a scrapbook that had the words Logan & Emma scrawled across the front in tall, glittery letters. On the backdrop of a large red heart. With other little hearts surrounding it.
It was a scrapbook devoted to me and Logan. What kind of special hell had I just been transported to?
Mark gasped before reaching out and grabbing the book from my mother. “Oh my God, I’d forgotten all about this!”
“All about what?” Logan asked, looking just as disturbed as I felt. “What is that?”
“This,” Mark said, opening the book, “is a scrapbook your mother put together a long time ago, back when she thought you two would someday…you know…”
Logan and I both stared at him, mouths agape.
“Fall in love,” he finished with a slight smirk.
I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or vomit. Sure, it was no secret that our parents had always hoped one day Logan and I would wake up and realize we had a burning passion for one another, but it was something that was never discussed. Our parents knew it was a sore subject. They knew how much Logan and I had grown to detest one another over time, and I thought they had accepted it.
But apparently, the hope was still alive. Or, if nothing else, it lived on for eternity in the form of a scrapbook.
The adults all gathered around the book and started pointing and cooing at what was inside.
My mom glanced over at me with a guilty smile. “I just figured since you two seem to be becoming friends, maybe you’d get a kick out of seeing this.”
No. She was wrong. This was a nightmare. This was horrifying. I didn’t want to see any of this.
Judging from the look on Logan’s face, he felt no differently than I did.
“Oh, look at that.” Rachel pointed to the very first picture in the book. “Logan and Emma’s First Introduction,” she read aloud.
Mark swiveled the book around, so Logan and I could see what she was referring to.
In the top center of the first page was a picture of my mom and Logan’s mom, Heather, standing in the foyer. Heather was holding onto what I assumed was a baby Logan and my mom was next to her holding onto a baby me. Both young women were smiling broadly, and each held out their free hand in the form of the letter c and had connected them together to make it look like they were forming a heart.
“This was the day I brought you home from the hospital,” my mom said fondly. “I came here first before bringing you to our house. I couldn’t wait for you and Logan to meet.”
I looked closely at the picture. Logan and I were both in tears in our mothers’ arms. Apparently, neither one of us was as excited about the introduction as they were.
Logan began flipping through the pages, one-by-one. Logan and Emma’s First Halloween (I was a ladybug, he was a monkey). Logan and Emma’s First
Visit with Santa (the mall Santa held me in one arm and Logan in the other; the jolly old man was smiling, but Logan and I were once again crying). Logan and Emma’s First Easter. Logan and Emma’s First 4th of July. Logan and Emma’s First Day of Pre-School…
Why had I been forced to share so many of my firsts with Logan?
“Um, what’s that?” Logan asked, pointing to a photo a few pages in. From the looks of it, it wasn’t one of our “firsts”. We looked to be around four years old.
And we were dressed like a bride and groom.
“Mom,” I squeaked, staring up at her in horror. “What is this?”
She glanced down at the photo and immediately shared an amused expression with my Dad and Mark before the three of them burst out laughing.
Logan and I, however, were not amused.
“Mom,” I scolded her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping away a tear. “That picture was taken on Halloween. You two were four at the time. The office Heather worked at was throwing a family-friendly Halloween party, and they were giving away prizes for the best costumes. We really wanted to win, so we thought it would be funny if all our costumes were part of the same theme. Heather’s idea was to dress the two of you as a bride and a groom and we’d all go dressed as the wedding party. So, she threw on the most hideous dress she could find—her Prom dress—and she was the bridesmaid. I was the flower girl—”
“I was the priest,” Mark cut in.
“And I was the wedding singer,” my dad added. “The one from the Adam Sandler movie.”
Mom chuckled. “Everyone loved it.”
Not me. I didn’t love it. And I could tell from Logan’s expression he wasn’t particularly fond of the whole thing either.
I studied the picture for a moment and was taken aback by how close Logan and I looked. This time, we were smiling big, toothy grins at the camera instead of crying. We stood side-by-side, hand-in-hand, looking like the best of friends.
Or, I guess, husband and wife.
It was hard to believe there was ever a time in our lives where we got along and maybe even liked each other. But this photo was proof.