Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) (2 page)

I swore to myself years ago I would never reduce myself to such lies and tactics, but the guys never really seemed interested in me.

“Emma, after that night, you asked us for space. We’ve given it to you. But we need to address it now.” She took a sip of her Diet Coke.

Fortunately, the wind had shifted my hair to the left side of my head and created a curtain between us. “Mom. It doesn’t matter. An entire summer has gone by. He probably forgot about me, anyway.” The thought made my stomach twist.

“I seriously doubt that. You are a beautiful girl.”

The word
girl
made me cringe, and I turned toward the ocean taking in a slow breath of air.

“I know you think you probably know everything when it comes to sex and relationships, but honey, I want to make sure if you have any questions that you come to me.”

The wind blew my hair back and I offered her a smile. “I don’t have any questions.” I had
SO
many questions, I didn’t know where to start. I knew how to get pregnant and how not to get pregnant. But the rest was a little fuzzy. Oral sex really scared me and sex itself, I could only imagine. Watching
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
with Ryan and his buddies was somewhat educational. I remembered in the movie that Brad jacked off in the bathroom thinking about Linda; then she busted him and got grossed out.  Stacy got pregnant by Mike in an act that didn’t look like much fun. So, it wasn’t as if I was dying to do the deed, but I wanted to know the drill.

“Not yet. But, Emma.” She paused and I didn’t like her tone. “Guys your brother’s age have a mindset that is…”

“Perverted?”

She smiled. “I was going to say, sexual. And if you and Zach start dating, do we need to discuss abstinence and/or protection?”

My face flushed; I was thankful the sun was out hoping the reddening in my cheeks would not be as noticeable. “Mom!”  I had only started my period five months ago. Mom says she was a late bloomer too. She also said it came with the territory of being a preemie. That was the story of my life.

“Honey, in June, when your father and I got home from Santa Monica and found the two of you together...” She alluded to it as if I’d forgotten. I was certain I would never forget that night. God! That had only been the greatest night of my pathetic life.

The door bell rang as I finished drying my legs. I hurriedly tossed my towel on the hook and slammed the shower door, wincing as the glass rattled.  I threw on my ratty PAC-12 T-shirt, sweat shorts and flew down the stairs. The shadow outside on the porch turned to leave.

“Hold up!” I shouted throwing open the door as he swiveled around. Water dripped on my shoulders from my wet strands of hair and I stood staring at him. His hair held the rain that had fallen from his car to the door.  Attitude crept into me when he lowered his chin to look down at me, surprised to see a five-foot dwarf before him. (I was four feet, ten inches to be exact.)

“Hi,” he greeted with an exaggerated animation, as if I was in a Girl Scout outfit selling Thin Mints and had just rung
his
door bell.

I felt my lip snarl. “Hey,” I said coolly, trying not to stare, but his deep chocolate eyes immediately caught my attention.

“Is Ryan here?” he asked still speaking as if I were a child.

“Nope,” I snipped.

One side of his mouth pulled upward. “Oookaaay. When will he be?”

I let out an inflated breath and glanced at the clock behind me, then shrugged. My brother and his big punk-ass friends were annoying. I didn’t know this one.

He chuckled and the hair on my neck stood on end. He knew he was hot!  He waited, silently. Was he expecting
me
to say something? My eyes widened and brows reached their peak on my forehead.  “What?” I nearly shouted.

A gust of wind caused rain to sweep under the porch and spray his face.  “May I wait, inside?”

My head instantly began shaking from side to side. “Neg-a-tive. You are a stranger and I am just a little girl.” Sarcasm dripped from my words.

This freakishly hot guy dragged his hands down his face and for the first time I noticed his smile. He leaned toward me, invading my space, and I drew myself away, suddenly feeling jittery inside. With the doorknob in his hand, he closed the door between us. I stood confused until I heard the chime a second time. Without me touching the door, it opened. He smiled a smile I could only describe as breathtaking and extended his hand. My eyes moved from his mouth to his extended hand then finally, landed on his eyes.

“Hi. My name is Zach Owens. I’m a friend of Ryan’s. I understand he is not at home, but do you mind if I wait?”

His face was tan and his teeth were white which led me to swipe my tongue over mine.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

What was my name? “Um, Emma.”  I stepped back so he could come in, suddenly paranoid I wasn’t wearing a bra. Not that it mattered; I had no boobs.

“Umemma? That’s one I’ve never heard before.” He winked.

Between my stomach doing a back flip and blood rushing to my face, I forced a laugh; I also recognized what he was doing. Ryan had warned me about the guys who had one thing on their mind. “Well, it’s just Emma. And FYI, your little smile may work for most, but I’m not your typical girl.”

His smile broadened. “Ryan’s supposed to have some football camp information for me.”

Football. Of course.  I shrugged glancing around the roo
m for any papers lying around.

“Hmmm.  I give.” If there was one thing I was good at, it was hostility toward my brother’s buddies. His little posse of friends served as my protectors much longer than appreciated and it didn’t appear they were giving it up anytime soon. This guy was at least six feet, maybe taller, and though he wasn’t grotesquely muscular like Ryan, he was well built.

My T-shirt was wet from my dripping hair. “I’m gonna go dry my hair.”

“Go for it,” he said with indifference.

I rolled my eyes, making sure he saw.

Once I reached the top of the stairs, I burst into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, slathered on deodorant, dabbed on some make up, fastened my bra and took the stairs two at a time.

“Ryan still not here?” I asked, winded as I entered the living room.

His expression was one of confusion and my annoyance resurrected.

“What?” I inquired.

“Your hair. Thought you were
gonna dry it.”

I reached up and fingered the wet strands as his white teeth became visible again. 
Oh my God!
I think maybe he even laughed out loud. “Yeah. Well, I was wondering if you wanted me to text Ryan and let him know you’re here. That way you can get what you need and
leave.
”

He fought hard unable to hide his full-blown smile. “I can wait a few,” he said raking his fingers through his wet brown hair.

“Whatever, suit yourself.”

I returned—with dry hair. “So, you’re new?” He followed me into the kitchen and sat at a barstool.

“I am. Been here a couple of months. I haven’t seen you around either.” 

I’d have remembered if I’d seen him before, but I refused to tell him I was a freshman. “Hmm. Well, obviously—I’m Ryan’s little sister.”

“I figured that much. You are in fact little.  How old are you?”

This guy seemed insistent on pissing me off. “Where you from?” I asked ignoring the question.

His fingers intertwined on the granite countertop. “Wow, must be the hair,” he muttered under his breath.

I tried my best to give him my evil glare. “Do you not think, I’ve not heard them all before, Tomato head, Carrot top,  Rose top, Ginger, Fireball,
Pippi, Peppermint Patty—whatever. Please, please, enlighten me with a new one. ”

There was no mistaking his laugh now.  “A. That was a double negative. B. This has nothing to do with your hair.  C. For such a tiny
lil thing, you’re pretty feisty. And D.”  The proximity between us closed as he scooted his chair closer. Was he looking at my nose?

“What’s D?” I barely squeaked out.

“D,” he said with his breath blowing across my face. “You’re strawberry blonde and Peppermint Patty had way more freckles.” His finger playfully tapped the end of my nose. “Now, how old are you?”

My heart was literally going to beat up and out of my throat if that was possible. “Tell me where you’re from first.”

His eyes narrowed, sadly. I’d hit a nerve. Something was wrong.  “San Francisco.”

He wasn’t happy there. I could tell. Change the subject. “So…what do you think of our city?”

He snickered. “City?”

Wow! I hated that response more.

“This isn’t a city. San Francisco! That’s a city.”

OK. I was way off the mark. I couldn’t read him yet and I was exceptional at reading guys. He liked
his
city?

“Have you ever been?” This time, his brows raised and I noticed his long, silky lashes.

“No.”

His eyes suddenly widened. “Emma. It’s awe-some.”

I smiled at his level of enthusiasm, or maybe it was the way my name sounded coming out of his mouth, or maybe it was the way he made awesome sound like it was two words. 

“Tell me.”

And he did. He talked for nearly twenty minutes about his life there. His school. His friends. His laughter was infectious. Then once again, his tone turned sad. I think I understood. He didn’t want to come here. He hated it here…
my
city. His mood had shifted. What made him so unhappy?

“Can you hear that?” I asked, pointing to the ceiling where the music softly played? My dad loved music and our entire house echoed his love.

“The music?”

I nodded.

“Yes.”

I had an idea. “Stay here,” I instructed with a pointing finger.

He glanced at me suspiciously. “OK,” he agreed.

I hurried to the stereo and flipped through our CD’s till I found Journey’s greatest hits. I hoped he knew the song. Of course he knew the song. If he loved San Francisco that much, he knew the song. Number 7. Play. I ran back. As I stepped into the kitchen, the song started. His dark eyes fixed on mine.
Hmm. Still serious.
He either didn’t know the song or it brought back a bad memory. I swallowed hard questioning my strategy to play
Lights
. Had I made him miss his city more? Remorse swarmed within me as he got to his feet. He was leaving. I didn’t want him to go. I wanted to know Zach Owens more than I’d wanted to know anyone.

When the lights go down in the city…..

“I’m sorry,” I said chewing on my thumbnail.

A softness touched his face. What was he thinking? He closed the distance between us and blood raced through my veins. “Thank you,” he whispered.

My upper teeth pressed into my bottom lip. Had he liked it? My neck ached from looking up at him. I wanted him to kiss me but I knew that wouldn’t happen. Especially if he knew my brother. 

“Have I kept you from something?”

Nothing came to mind. “No.” My voice was barely audible.

“No, really? What were you going to do tonight before I showed up?” He was still close and I could smell his breath. 

“I’d uh, rented a movie.”

“See there. I did interrupt.” His smile was gentle.

He wanted out of here. I looked down at the carpet.

“We can start it, I mean, while I wait for Ryan.”

Embarrassingly, no nice words came to mind. I didn’t know how to communicate with a guy outside of talking about how the Ducks played in the game against the Trojans. How many rushing versus passing yards.  I could do angry so much better than this…this unknown feeling. Why would he want to watch a movie with me? I forced myself to think of what Ryan would say.  One reason…Sex! I managed a nod then said, “Don’t think something’s goin’ down between us.”  

Both his hands shot up, palms forward like he was in a standoff but surrendering. “I will be on my best behavior.”  The sexy grin crept across his face again and deep down, I was scared I was toast.

I still, two months later, couldn’t remember what brought on the kiss.
Oh, the kiss.
I remember laughing at the movie until a small snort came from my throat.

“You snorted?” he asked laughing.

I shook my head adamantly. “No. I didn’t,” I said, blushing ten shades of red.

Then his fingers dug into my sides and I laughed hysterically, my obnoxious laugh irritating even me. Suddenly, he stopped and our eyes locked, all humor gone from his.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered.

Once again, I was unable to answer verbally so I nodded weakly. 

He moved slowly toward me tilting his head to the right so I tilted mine. My heart found a disjointed rhythm as his tongue peeked out moistening his lips. I did the same. Then, our lips met. I was certain he didn’t inhale but my breath was taken from me as we kissed. His tongue touched my upper lip softly then moved back into his mouth. The kiss lasted at least ten seconds maybe longer. And when I opened my eyes, he was looking at me. I hadn’t kissed a lot of guys and worried if I’d failed epically. His thumb moved down my jaw.