Chapter 14

The road to the airport is quiet, a combination of the weekend lull and the fact there's a big parade going on downtown, luring the would-be-shoppers to its gaudy, balloon-filled festival. Emmett drives the Suburban with a casual ease, his winter-tanned arm resting on the door, fingers tapping along to the Christmas tunes he's lined up on his playlist.

"I appreciate you driving me, man," I tell him. Though my voice is steady, there's still emotion there. Through this whole abortive visit, Emmett's been the only one who's remained strong and steady. The further we drive away from my dad's apartment, the more I realise just how fucked up everything is. My father's heart problems, his girlfriend, his reconciliation with my mom...

I sigh and rub my face with the heels of my hands. "So, you should definitely come out and visit me soon. I'll introduce you to some of the girls on my course." I'm all too aware that Emmett is still missing Rose. "Or one of Lauren's sisters," I add.

"Lawyer Barbie has sisters?" He raises his eyebrows, looking at me with a grin on his face. "I always had a thing for Skipper."

"Who the fuck's Skipper?"

"Barbie's sister," he says, as if I should know that kind of shit. "She's fucking hot."

He swings onto the interstate, sliding into a non-existent space between a truck and a station wagon. The truck driver presses his horn and Emmett slowly winds down his window, flipping the bird to the moustached guy behind us.

"How the hell do you know the name of Barbie's sister?" I ask, ignoring the fact we're a moment away from being flattened by the truck. "No scratch that, I don't even wanna know."

"I have sisters, too, dude, they used to make me play with them and shit. Anyway, Barbie has good tits, ya know?"

I don't know, and I don't ever want to. I stifle a smirk, and check my phone, noting that Lauren has left three texts for me asking exactly when I'm landing. I'm not sure if that means I'm going to have a welcoming committee, or if I'm just going to be berated as soon as I step onto Boston soil.

By the time we arrive at O'Hare, we've arranged for Emmett to visit in the Spring, and he's extracted a promise that I'll introduce him to all four of the Mallory sisters. There's a smile on his face as wide as the sky, and I have to admit it warms me inside.

Coming to a stop next to the arrivals entrance, Emmett climbs out of the driver's side while I pull out my case and drop it onto the sidewalk. We hug for a moment, his thick, heavy arms squeezing me a little too tight, then tap each other's backs before we step away.

"Thanks for being here," I say, my throat tightening. "It meant everything, you know?"

For the first time he looks a little embarrassed. "Any time, I know you'd do the same for me. And hell, if I get to lay Skipper, the debt will be settled."

Any feelings of emotion disappear.

"Yeah, well just remember Barbie has a long fucking memory. If you mess with her sister, I'll be the one who pays."

"I'm banking on it."

A little over four hours later I'm walking through Logan airport, heading for the exit when I hear a squeal. The next minute Lauren throws herself at me, causing me to drop my bag, and she's clinging onto me like a goddamn monkey on heat.

"You were supposed to be here half an hour ago," she chides, still holding me. "I've been sitting and waiting."

I lean down and press my lips to hers. Though they're closed, I feel them soften as soon as I start to kiss her, and within a minute we're hot and heavy, my hands tangled in her hair, hers digging into my ass. I carry on, wondering if I'm kissing her because I want to, or if I'm doing it to put off the inevitable. Because while her mouth is busy doing this, she can't launch into me for arriving home so late.

Eventually we part, and I swing my case back up, still holding on to her with my other hand. We head for the exit and the parking lot, where her brand new Mustang is parked neatly at the far end, the red metallic paint reflecting the rays of the winter sun.

"Nice," I remark, casting an eye over her new car. Her parents gave it to her last week-a combined Christmas and early graduation present-and even I'm impressed by just how shiny and new it looks.

"Do you like it?" she asks, a broad smile splitting her face. "You can drive it if you want?"

She doesn't need to ask twice. I grab the keys and slide into the driver's seat, pushing it back to accommodate my long legs. Lauren climbs in next to me, talking ten-to-the-dozen about the controls I need to know, reminding me to drive at the speed limit, and that I shouldn't corner so fast. By the time we reach my apartment all the lustre has gone from the drive, and I realize that nothing has really changed. I mean, I like Lauren, I really do, especially when I find other things to do with that pretty mouth of hers. But she nags me as if she's my mom, and it gets on my last goddamn nerve.

"You wanna come up?" I ask, silently praying that she doesn't. "I'm just gonna grab a shower and head for the sack, but you're free to join me."

Lauren wrinkles her nose. "Are you just asking me up for sex?"

If I'm honest, the thought hadn't occurred to me. But now it has, it seems like a pretty good suggestion. "Sex is definitely on the cards," I say, flashing her a smile.

"Then I'll pass. I've got a midterm tomorrow and I need to get some sleep. Call me first thing and we can arrange a date tomorrow night." She stops talking for long enough to take a breath. "Somewhere nice, and maybe then we can talk sex." Then she taps my thigh lightly with her palm, as if she's placating me, and I raise my eyebrows, wondering if she think's I'm going to be disappointed.

Because yeah, I wouldn't say no to sex. But I'm more than happy to sort myself out in that department, and my palm is a damn sight less high maintenance than Lauren Mallory.

"Sure, I'll call you," I promise, though I know she'll be the one calling me first thing in the morning. "Thanks for picking me up." I reach for the door handle, leaving the key in the ignition so she can slide across and drive herself home. But rather than close the door behind me, she just looks at me expectantly.

"Um, haven't you forgotten something?"

I scratch my head. "I don't think so."

"A kiss goodbye?"

"Oh yeah, sure." Feeling like a pussy, I lean down and press my lips to hers. She doesn't open them and I don't try to make her. Instead I give her a peck and stand back up, slamming the door shut.

When I unlock the door to my apartment and step inside, I'm hit by the stale air within. It smells neglected and empty, and I walk around opening curtains and turning on fans to try and get rid of the acrid smell. Then I take a long, hot shower, letting the spray pour down long after I've cleaned my body and washed my hair, enjoying the sensation of warm water on my cold, tired skin. By the time I climb into bed I'm about done in, but I take a minute to text my folks, letting them know I've arrived safely. Dad replies that everything's fine and Mom's due to arrive back in Chicago on Monday, while Mom's reply is a litany of all the things she has to do before she catches the flight.

Before I go to sleep, I check my emails and Facebook, noticing a few friend requests-the result of my catching up with some old friends on Christmas Eve. Just as I'm about to close up the app a new request appears, and the avatar accompanying it makes my eyebrows rise up.

My finger hovers over the 'confirm' button as I study Bella Swan's photograph. She's standing on a beach wearing a huge, floppy sunhat, a beatific smile splitting her face. My stomach tightens as I study her, wondering what she's doing now, and why the hell she's sent me a request. I want to accept, to study her profile, to find out exactly how she's feeling now that my dad has told her everything.

But then I remember the emotions of the past few weeks. The messed-up scenes between her and my dad. And I try to forget the way I feel attracted to her, wondering how it would feel to kiss her the way I kiss Lauren.

Confirm or ignore? I laugh; as if it was possible to ignore somebody like Bella Swan. I look at her again, at the beauty of her face, and wonder what would have happened if we'd met at the bar, instead of my dad's bedside.

What if she'd never met my dad?

What if we were just old school friends reconnecting?

What if I could turn back time?

Sighing, I reach for my lamp and switch it off, so the only source of illumination is the iPhone nestled in my palm. Then I reach out and press the button, aware that I may be making the biggest fucking mistake in my life.

And I ignore Bella Swan.

~aCoH~