Chapter Three
Emmie
Torture. That’s all I can describe lunch as. Pure torture. It was bad enough that I had to witness my mum flirting badly . But once his highness made his displeasure clear, things were just awkward. And what’s wrong with my mum anyway?
“Tell me again,” says Ava excitedly.
I sigh, “His dad forced him to invite me,” I repeat for the tenth time at least. “He made it clear he didn’t want me there.”
I think back to the conversation earlier at lunch.
“Kai’s having a get together at ours later,” Joel had told Mum. “Emmie is more than welcome.”
“It’s friends only,” Kai had cut in, his eyes wide with annoyance.
Joel had placed a hand on Kai’s shoulder, I’m pretty sure he squeezed it before adding, “And Emmie is a friend now, isn’t she?” It was said through gritted teeth, and we all heard it, but Mum continued to stand there with a wide smile. “And then I can take Maxine out for dinner.”
“Oh, you can take her anyway,” I rushed to say. “I have a date with my English Lit books.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mum had said. “You never get invited to these things. It’ll be great to go and make new friends.”
I was mortified. In fact, that word doesn’t cut it.
Horrified. I’d stared for a good few seconds, lost for words, dying inside my own head, and then Joel had grinned wide.
“Excellent. It starts about seven. I’ll have Kai come pick you both up at six-thirty, then we’ll go straight out for drinks and dinner. ”
So now, as I run a brush through my wild hair, I feel sick. And I tried everything to get out of it. Mum was having none of it. I even had the pleasure of a lecture about how she’d found it so hard to date again after everything, and me making the effort with Kai meant so much to her. Eugh.
“Girls, are you ready?” Mum calls, interrupting my thoughts.
Ava is practically bouncing with excitement as we gather our bags and shoes and head down to the hall where Mum is waiting. “You both look amazing,” she gushes, and I glance down at my wide-legged jeans and band t-shirt. Ava opted to follow the crowd with her short denim cut-offs and a cropped top.
Joel is heading up the path when we step out. He kisses Mum on the cheek. “I thought it made more sense to go from your place,” he tells her. “You’re closer to the town centre.” He turns to me. “Kai is waiting in the car.”
The engine revs on the black golf, and I roll my eyes as we slide into the back seat. Kai keeps his eyes fixed forward, and the second Ava closes the door, he pulls away.
“I’m good if you have other plans,” he eventually says. “I can drop you off.”
I narrow my eyes, catching a glimpse of Ava’s disappointed face. “Worried we’ll actually make your party fun?” I ask.
His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and I think I see the hint of a smirk. “Fine, if you want a night of hell with Bella and Luna.”
“Or you could just tell them to lay off,” I snap. “You know, do something useful with the power you hold over them.”
He scoffs. “Power? I don’t have any power.”
“Please. We all know Bella would do anything for you.” Ava is watching the exchange with surprise. “And if we’re going to be brother and sister-”
“We really aren’t,” he snaps, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. “Stay the hell out of my way tonight or else.”
I cross my arms over my chest and slump back in the seat . I was planning on it.
Kai’s house is just what I was expecting. Big, modern and expensive looking. His kitchen is three times the size of the entire downstairs of my house, and just for extra wow, he has an indoor and outdoor pool.
“Oh my God,” Ava whispers, her head practically doing a three-sixty as she takes it all in. “This place is amazing.”
“It’s too big,” I mutter.
Kai hears me and smirks. “I can find you a tiny cupboard, so you’ll feel more at home?” And then he heads off toward the stairs, leaving us alone.
I pull out my phone, silencing it before opening a new text message. “What are you doing?” hisses Ava.
“I got a new sim card. He won’t know it’s me.”
“Just stop this already. You’re gonna blow our chance at being normal.”
I scoff. “We are the normal ones, Ava.”
Me: How are you coping without your phone? Are you missing taking selfies yet?
A second later, my phone buzzes in my hand, and I grin.
Kai: You went quiet, I was worried you’d forgotten about me.
Me: How could I. I’ve been keeping busy with all those gym shots.
Kai: Oh yeah? You like what you see?
Me: Probably not as much as you. Anyway, aren’t you dating Bella?
Kai: I don’t date.
Me: Pity.
Kai
I can’t lie, the text messages from my new stalker have made me smile, offsetting my earlier mood caused by Emmie.
Guests begin to arrive, so I tuck my phone away and grab crates of beer from the basement.
When I get back upstairs, Austin has already cracked open a bottle and is chatting with some of the other guys. He hands me his empty bottle, then grabs himself a new one. “Who invited the freaks?” asks Bella, sidling up beside me.
“Don’t ask,” I utter.
“Any news about your phone?” asks Henry.
“Nope.”
I take a long sip of beer, letting the fizz sting the back of my throat.
The music begins from the living room, the heavy base speakers pumping out the usual dance beats Autin supplies.
People are spilling into the garden, drinks in hand, voices rising over the music.
And then my eyes land on her. Emmie. She’s standing by the outside bar with Ava, speaking animatedly into her ear.
She looks uncomfortable, as if social interaction is her worst nightmare.
Bella follows my line of sight. “Imagine coming to a party dressed like that,” she says, smirking.
Luna giggles. “She’s so weird,” she says rolling her eyes.
“Lay off,” I mutter, moving away before she can call me out.
Austin steps in my path, “How’s it going with Bella?” he asks, wiggling his brows. I shrug, and he slaps my shoulder. “We all know she’s after you, she’s an easy lay. Why aren’t you tapping it already?” And he walks off laughing.
“You know, you should call your friends out on misogyny.” I spin around to find Emmie staring at me, judging me .
“Hi, Kai,” a girl from Maths class giggles as she passes me with her group of friends, and Emmie pretends to stick her fingers down her throat, gagging.
“I see why you never get invited to these things.”
“Right. Because I’m so hideous that everyone hates me,” Emmie retorts, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Cry me a river.” She pours some lemonade into a cup, and when she sees I’m still watching, she holds it up, “Want some? It’s not poisoned. Maybe.”
“Tempting,” I say, leaning against the counter. “But I’m more of a beer guy.”
She eyes the empty cup in my hand. “Clearly. Must be your sparkling personality keeping you hydrated.”
I smirk. “You always this friendly, or is it just me?”
“Just you,” she says, matter of fact.
There’s a long beat where we stare at each other like we’re waiting for the other to break first. She takes a slow sip of her lemonade, not blinking.
“You don’t have to be here, you know,” I say, nodding toward the crowd. “Weird move showing up to a party hosted by someone you clearly can’t stand.”
She shrugs. “I enjoy watching rich kids spiral into bad decisions. It’s like Love Island , but with more fake tans and less emotional depth.”
I almost choke on a laugh. “You rehearsed that?”
“Nope. That was freestyle.” Her mouth quirks like she’s trying not to smile. “Impressed?”
“A little,” I admit. “I didn’t know sarcasm counted as a party trick.”
She tilts her head. “Says the guy whose party playlist has two songs by The Script. Is that your secret shame?”
“Hey, those are bangers.”
“Sure. If you’re going through a breakup and crying into your duvet.”
“Don’t knock the classics,” I say, grinning now. “Besides, you look like someone who listens to sad indie girls whispering about death.”
She gasps, actually gasps , hand to her chest. “Excuse me. It’s called ‘aesthetic suffering,’ and it’s a lifestyle choice.”
I laugh. I can’t remember the last time I did that at one of my own parties.
She tops up her lemonade and gives me a look. “Well, this has been fun, but I need to get back to judging people silently.”
“Don’t strain yourself,” I call after her as she walks out, one hand raised like royalty dismissing a peasant.
I’m still smiling when she disappears into the crowd. Which is weird. Because Emmie’s not supposed to be funny. Or cool. Or interesting. But suddenly, the music feels too loud, and everyone else seems boring.
I shake my head and grab another drink, toying with the idea that she could be the one holding my phone hostage.
And if she isn’t , why do I keep thinking about her whenever I read those messages?
I need five minutes away from the chaos. From Bella’s constant clinging and Austin trying to hit on Ava as part of a bet, he’s got going with Henry.
I head downstairs into the basement, where half is storage, and the other half is a den kitted out with cinema seating and a large screen. Dad and I spent a lot of time down here when I was younger. Before Mum left.
I freeze when I spot Emmie sitting crossed legged on the floor, staring at her mobile with a half-eaten bag of Skips beside her.
She looks up, blinking like I’ve interrupted her.
“You lost?” I ask, and she looks around the room before shaking her head.
“Do you make a habit of sneaking around other people’s properties? ”
She sighs heavily, placing her mobile down between her legs. “Why are you down here when you have a house full of people?”
I flop down on one of the oversized chairs. “I needed some peace.”
“I was here first,” she says with a shrug, going back to her phone.
“I didn’t realise you’d claimed it in the name of introverts everywhere.”
She grins, tossing a Skip into her mouth. “I thought you’d be off playing beer pong or spin the bottle.”
“I thought you’d be off doing whatever freaks do, like stabbing yourself with a protractor just to avoid talking to people.”
“Protractors are versatile,” she says seriously. “And I do talk to people. Just not the ones who think sarcasm is a love language.”
I raise a brow. “So, not a fan of my charm, then?”
“Oh, I think your charm is fine,” she says sweetly. “If you’re aiming to impress Year Nine’s.”
I can’t stop the laugh that escapes. “You’re brutal.”
“And you’re easily entertained.”
We fall quiet again, and this time it’s not awkward. Just quiet. Like neither of us knows what to say, but neither wants to leave either.
“You know,” I say carefully, “if you did have my phone, this would be a solid opportunity to admit it.”
She doesn’t flinch. Just turns her head slowly to look at me. “Why would I want your phone?”
I shrug. “To torture me.”
She gets to her feet in one swift move and brushes the crumbs from her top. “I can do that without stealing your phone.”
I tip my head to the side. “Oh yeah, how?”
She grins, “By being me. The one girl that doesn’t actually want you. And you hate it.” Then she sweeps past me, leaving me with her vanilla scent and another smile on my face.