Beastly (The Ever After Collection)

by Noelle Marie

  Emma blinked. “Oh.”

  “Yeah, remember? He found out when he was six and stole that candy bar from the convenience store. His entire face puffed up and his mom had to take him to the emergency room. She felt so bad for him that the little miscreant didn’t even get into trouble.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I remember.”

  But she didn’t. Emma had never watched Luca and paid attention to him the way that Collette always had.

  It occurred to her that her two friends knew millions of little things about each other. Things like allergies, favorite candy bars, and embarrassing childhood stories. How could they not when they’ve known each other since pre-K?

  And just like that, Emma was feeling downcast despite the relatively fun night she’d had. Worse, she was feeling… jealous.

  Because even though she felt like she knew so much of what made Heath… well, Heath, she didn't know his favorite candy bar or if he had any allergies. She didn’t even know his favorite color.

  She supposed that most people would probably call those details small or trivial.

  But nothing about Heath was small or trivial to Emma.

  Luca emerged from the gym a few minutes later, and after offering the blond boy a hug and giving her friends a few minutes to talk, Emma told Collette her stomach was suddenly feeling off and asked for a ride home.

  * * *

  “Do you have any allergies?”

  Emma cringed as soon as the question came flying out of her mouth, but she couldn't bring herself to take it back either.

  She’d ventured over to Heath’s house like planned on Saturday morning. Mr. Potter was at the diner and Mrs. Potter had taken Charlie to his weekend taekwondo class so they had the place to themselves. Usually, Emma would be nervous about something like that, but her overactive brain was still nagging her about what she’d realized so abruptly last night: that despite how close she felt to Heath, she really didn't know all that much about him.

  And now she may have combated that lack of knowledge by being a tad overzealous. After all, she’d asked the question as soon as Heath had opened the front door.

  Despite his eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline, Heath ushered Emma in. “If that’s your way of trying to start some sort of kinky nurse-patient roleplaying, I’ve got to admit that your technique needs work.”

  Ignoring the telltale blush she could feel creeping up her neck, Emma huffed. “I’m serious.”

  Heath shrugged, taking Emma’s coat and hanging it up before leading her to the spacious couch that served as the center piece of the Potter’s living room. “Not that I know of, I guess. Why?” He took her wrist and pulled her down onto the couch with him – nearly on him, really.

  “Favorite food?” she asked.

  “Anything Mrs. Potter makes.”

  “And your favorite color?”

  Heath’s eyes narrowed. “Okay, what’s this about?”

  Emma raised a pointed eyebrow.

  “Fine, brown,” he said. “Now tell me what’s up with the twenty questions.”

  “Brown?” Emma was scandalized. “You can’t like brown. Brown is just all the colors mixed together. It’s disgusting, like mud or-”

  Heath placed a firm, but gentle hand over Emma’s mouth. “I like what I like. Now tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “I don’t know,” Emma admitted softly when Heath removed his hand from her mouth. “I guess I just feel like there’s so much about you that I don’t know.”

  “You know more about me than anyone,” he disagreed, a puzzled frown causing a crease to form between his brows. “Well, anyone who hasn’t read my case file,” he attempted to joke.

  Emma didn’t laugh.

  Heath sighed. “Does it really bother you that much?”

  Emma worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her insides melting a little when Heath used a thumb to free the abused flesh. “Stop it, you’ll hurt yourself,” he scolded lightly.

  “There’s just a lot about you that I want to learn,” she tried to explain. “I mean, Collette and Luca have known each other since they were three. They already have all of these amazing memories they’ve made together and it doesn’t seem fair.”

  The fingers of the hand that still encircled one of Emma’s wrists gently rubbed over her pulse point. “We have all the time in the world to learn about each other,” he assured her.

  Emma allowed a smile to pull at her lips for the first time since arriving at Heath’s house. “That’s true, I guess,” she conceded.

  Obviously sensing victory, Heath tugged Emma onto his lap. He seemed to prefer her there whenever they were alone, and Emma certainly wasn’t going to argue. “And if it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you can ask me one more of those questions you’ve concocted up, but only one, and only if I get to ask you one in return.”

  Only one? That meant that it had to count.

  Of course, Emma already knew which one it was going to be. She took a deep breath. “Where do you disappear to every Saturday at three?”

  Heath looked honestly taken aback. He was probably expecting her to ask something asinine like his favorite animal, judging by her previous random questions. Emma was about to withdraw the question when he had the audacity to smile. “I forgot that I hadn’t told you yet,” he said.

  Emma blinked.

  “I didn’t mean to make it such a mystery,” he continued. “It’s just,” he paused, showing the first sign of hesitation, “I have therapy at three. The Potters insisted I start going when they took me in.”

  Oh.

  “Oh,” Emma repeated dumbly. That actually made a lot of sense. “Does it help?”

  Heath shrugged. “I admit that I hated going at first; I didn’t want some shrink trying to analyze me. Mrs. Carpenter – that’s my therapist’s name – says that I seem to be getting better since I’ve met you, though, so she must not be completely full of it.”

  Emma looked down at her lap – their laps, really – as an unexpected warmth started to grow in her belly at his confession.

  “Ready for my question for you?”

  Emma looked up, forcing herself to refocus. “Sure.”

  Heath smiled, taking both of her hands in his. “Emma Belrose, will you go on a proper date with me?”

  Emma couldn't have stopped the elated grin from spreading across her face ear to ear if she’d tried. “Really?”

  “Yeah, you’re worried that we don’t know enough about each other so let’s do just that – get to know each other – properly.” He pressed his forehead to hers.

  “Okay,” she agreed softly. Like she could – or would ever want to – say “no” to that.

  “And for the record,” he said, pulling away just slightly and releasing her hands so that he could play with a strand of her hair, “the reason that I like brown so much is because this girl I know has the prettiest head of brown hair that I’ve ever seen.” He reached up and rubbed a thumb over the sensitive skin beneath one of her eyes. “And the most potent whiskey-colored eyes; I could get drunk just looking into them.”

  “Suck up,” Emma accused, but her voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “I know,” he agreed, leaning forward. “Now can I kiss you, please?”

  “Technically, that was two questions-”

  He cut her off by darting forward and pressing his mouth to hers.

  * * *

  Emma and Heath went on their much anticipated date the next weekend. It mostly consisted of one disaster after another.

  Heath had chosen a restaurant with an abundance of stellar online reviews to dine at in the town over. Unfortunately, the food they’d ordered had managed to be delivered both burnt and cold. The movie they’d gone to afterwards had been appalling bad – a zombie “love” story that had contained more blood and guts than anything resembling romance. And to top it all off, Heath’s car had stalled on the way home to Maple Valley, and it had started to rain.

 
They’d had to drive to Springfield, which was nearly an hour away, to get to the only decent theater in the area so they spent a long time together in Heath’s dark car waiting for Mrs. Potter to come pick them up. Ignoring the rain/slush mixture that pitter pattered against the windows, Emma used the time to reacquaint herself with the feel of Heath’s lips against her own and the sensation of his stubble against her cheeks. She also learned how Heath’s calloused hands felt against the smooth skin of her belly.

  By the time Mrs. Potter finally arrived, Emma found that she no longer cared that she didn't know Heath’s favorite book or whether he preferred country or pop music.

  All in all, it was the best date she’d ever been on.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  January had faded into February when the inevitable happened.

  The school bell had just finished echoing out through the building, signaling that classes were over for the day, and Emma was lounging against her locker, searching the crowded hallway for Heath, when Gunther approached her.

  She didn’t see him until he was nearly upon her, the sea of students naturally parting for its perceived king. Tension began gathering in her shoulders as soon as she realized that he was heading in her direction. Even more damning was the fact that he was looking right at her. A thrill of fear shot down her spine, but Emma firmly told herself that Gunther wouldn’t dare do anything to her in public. Besides, Heath would be there soon.

  And were those… flowers in Gunther’s hands? He held an impressively colorful bouquet of yellow, orange, and pink Gerber daisies.

  Before Emma could seriously consider running in the opposite direction, Gunther had taken three more steps forward and thrust the bouquet at her, the flowers nearly smacking her in face.

  Hadn’t he ever heard of personal space?

  When Emma didn’t immediately accept the flowers, Gunther lowered them enough so that Emma could again see. It seemed like the entire population of Maple Valley High’s jocks had gathered behind Gunther. Folding her arms tightly across her chest, Emma tried to ignore the way everyone else seemed to have suddenly stopped what they were doing so that they, too, could stare at her. She even spotted Maribeth in her peripheral vision, the blonde sporting pursed lips and scorched red cheeks.

  But, of course, no one who’d be willing to help her – Heath, Collette, Luca, or any teacher whatsoever – was there.

  “Emma Belrose, today’s your lucky day,” Gunther informed her smugly, and her attention was redirected back to the domineering boy. “It would be an honor – for both of us, I imagine – if you’d agree to be my date for prom.”

  The question (if it could even be called that) was so utterly ridiculous – both how it was delivered and the request itself – that the fear that had filled her at Gunter’s abrupt approach all but fled, escaping her body much like air would a popped balloon. Incredulity replaced it.

  “What?”

  Gunther turned around to face his friends – or flock of admirers, more accurately. “I think she’s in shock,” he joked loudly.

  The jocks erupted into laughter.

  Maybe Emma was in shock. But not for the reason they thought. That Gunther was asking her to prom… that after what had happened, he had the audacity to… that he actually thought…

  She couldn't even string a sentence together in her own mind, let alone out loud.

  Emma had wondered at times if Gunther was working with a full deck of cards, and this certainly cemented the answer for her.

  “It’s okay. I know how pleasantly surprised you are. My looks alone can be intimidating, and that’s not even taking into consideration my outstanding wit or-”

  Emma knew from experience that this self-congratulatory spiel could go on for a while so she took a deep breath though her nose in an attempt to compose herself before opening her mouth. “No.”

  Gunther’s mouth snapped shut, true surprise shining in his narrowed eyes as he stared at her. “What was that?”

  As if he hadn’t heard her.

  “No,” Emma repeated sternly. “As in no, I won’t go to prom with you.” It was only through sheer force of will that she managed to refrain from adding that she’d rather gauge her own eyes out with a rusty spoon.

  Gunther took yet another step into her space, forcing Emma to back up further into her locker, the metal handle digging painfully into her back. “I think you misunderstood the question.”

  Emma was debating whether or not it would be worth seeing the expression on his face if she told him that it was he who seemed to have a functional misunderstanding of the word “no” when suddenly Heath was there.

  She didn’t even have a chance to feel relieved, however, before he was taking action. Her heart leapt into her throat as he grabbed Gunther by the back of his dark head of perfectly styled hair and slammed his forehead so hard into the locker directly to the right of Emma’s that a loud bang reverberated throughout the hallway.

  A gasp traveled through the gathered crowd, whispers of the word “fight” reaching Emma’s ears.

  And while she was grateful that Gunther was no longer towering over her, Emma was rapidly filled with very real fear for Heath’s physical wellbeing. Especially considering the horde of Gunther’s jock buddies who were looking on with expressions ranging from startled to furious.

  Where was a teacher when you actually needed one?

  Gunther whipped around to face Heath, a dark red mark already blossoming across his forehead.

  “Keep the hell away from Emma,” Heath spat.

  Emma braced herself for the boys to attack each other, shocked when neither immediately made a move, considering Heath’s “greeting”.

  She wondered for the first time if Gunther may be afraid of Heath. He was probably the first person to have ever outright defied him, after all. Well, the first person big enough to defend him or herself anyway.

  And then Gunther opened his mouth. “Who do you think you are, worthless freak?”

  Worthless freak.

  The words struck a chord in Emma, forcing her to remember the list of horrible names that Heath had confided in her that he’d been called over the years. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to stop from going after Gunther – Heath or herself – when she made a grab for Heath’s hand, linking her fingers through his and squeezing tightly. “Heath is my… boyfriend,” she said.

  The word didn’t seem like it was enough somehow. But Emma didn't know of any word that accurately described her relationship with Heath. That described the way she felt about him, the way she felt with him. And Emma knew a lot of words.

  Gunther stared at her incredulously. “You mean you actually got with this punk?” He gestured at Heath with the bouquet he still held in one hand. “This little piss-ant that you’ve been using to try to make me jealous?”

  And now it was Emma turn to gape.

  Is that seriously what Gunther had deluded himself into thinking?

  He had seen her hanging out with Heath and assumed it was some ploy for his attention? It was so crazy that for a long moment, Emma had no idea what to say.

  And then, suddenly, she did.

  She forced herself to squarely meet Gunther’s dark green eyes. “I’m going to be as crystal clear with you as I possibly can, Gunther. I don’t like you. I never have and I never will.” She paused a second to let that sink in. “I wouldn’t go to prom with you if you got down on your hands and knees and begged me like the dog you are.”

  More murmurs swept through the crowd of onlookers as they took in her derogatory words. She heard a loud “you go, girl!” and was finally able to spot Collette and Luca in the mass.

  It sure would have been nice if they’d managed to get there five minutes earlier.

  Emma flinched, thoughts of her friends’ horrible timing fleeing her mind, when Gunther took a hasty step forward and was abruptly in her face again.

  She squeezed Heath’s hand impossibly tighter, urging him not to react.

  Gunther smi
rked at her reaction. “You’ll regret this, Emma,” he assured her, his words a barely audible hiss, and then retreated from her space before she could no longer hold Heath back.

  Then louder, and for everyone else’s benefit, Gunther laughed. “Like I would really want an uptight bitch like you anyway.”

  Without further ado, he threw the bouquet of flowers down at her feet and walked away, his band of merry followers trailing behind him. With the show apparently over, the rest of the curious onlookers – sans Collette and Luca – began to disperse as well.

  Emma turned to look at Heath, who still had a tight grasp on her hand. She frowned at the tension radiating from his tall form, at the biceps she could see straining against his shirt and the hard line of his jaw. His blue eyes softened, though, when they took in her worried expression. “Well,” he said after a moment, “I think you made your opinion of him pretty clear, but I don’t suppose that another reminder of the fact that you’re taken will hurt?”

  Recognizing the teasing lit, Emma allowed a small grin to pull at the corners of her mouth. “No?”

  “No.”

  A beat later, his mouth was fused to hers and all was right with the world.

  At least until – to her chagrin – he pulled away.

  “Heath…” Emma protested despite her friends’ obvious relief.

  “Jesus Christ, you two,” Collette complained. “Get a room. The janitor’s closet is right there, for God’s sake.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you two are intimately familiar with it,” Emma snarked at the same time Luca exclaimed, “Why, Collette, I never knew you to be so religious!”

  Heath completely ignored them.

  “I almost forgot,” he said, pulling what Emma recognized as an origami rose from seemingly out of nowhere. “I realize that the timing is awful, but… here.”

  He handed the delicate masterpiece over, and Emma had to admit despite the fact that she didn’t care for things like homecomings or proms, a happy warmth settled in her belly at the word – a question, really – written so precisely on every petal.