Chapter 8 - High School Never Ends

You're so fucking special.

I repeat it in my head after Emmett says it, when his mouth covers mine again.

I only feel and hear him, nothing else: his lips on mine, his hands on my hips, gliding up, fingertips getting close to places I'd like him to touch and feel, but only teasing. The sound of his breath and mine, matching the same labored pace. The steering wheel pressed into my back, unless I arch very close to him, which I do. His thighs underneath mine, strong, solid.

This is all I know right now, him and me. My hand finds the headrest behind him and I hold on for dear life, because I feel like I'm drowning. I was right about him that first night; I'm being consumed, but also consuming, so close to him but not close enough.

I think this is what it's supposed to feel like. I think this is what people dream about and hope for. I felt it increasing, watching him with his grandma, and I feel it now. It's wanting him, but needing him too. And not just because he's kissing me like I've never been kissed before (although that's definitely part of it), but because I saw part of his life and another part of who he is, and it just makes him more beautiful to me.

He pulls away and I keep my eyes closed, trying to draw out this feeling, not wanting to forget too quickly. One palm is still against his stomach. I love the way our skin feels pressed together like that.

"Damn. Sorry," he murmurs. My heartbeat echoes in my ears, so I almost don't hear him, but when I open my eyes, I see his mouth first. It's twisted up, which draws me up to his eyes. They're dark and twinkling and I see that want-need in them too.

"I'm..." I try to find some words, but they're stuffed away in a deep corner with my brain. "Not sorry. What was that about?"

"You know Gram," he says instead, pulling at a strand of hair that's caught in what's left of my lip gloss.

I nod and pull back a little, resting against the steering wheel. I hope to god no one drives by right now because this would be very hard to explain. "She's quite the bingo hustler. I didn't know she was your grandma, though. She mentioned her grandson a few times, but I didn't put it together. Your last names are different..." I trail off, asking but at the same time trying not to pry.

His eyes flicker over my face and then down before looking out the window. "She's my mom's mom."

"You have her smile," I say, pressing a finger at each corner of his mouth and then into where his dimples are when he turns and flashes me that smile.

"My mom had hers, too." I don't miss the past tense, but he forges on, throwing me a grin that's more like the Emmett I see at school - easy and sure. "I saw you there once, you know. At the DAR."

"You did?"

"Yeah, usually I just drop Gram off and pick her up. She's stubborn as hell, so she doesn't like me walking her in. But I did one time and saw you in the bingo room."

I flush. "I call out the numbers sometimes."

"Handle the balls?" He laughs at his dumb joke and I smack his chest, right over his heart. He catches my fingers, presses his palm against the back of my hand so that it's trapped between him and his chest. I can feel his heart racing.

"Why didn't you say hi when you saw me?" I ask accusingly.

He shrugs. "Because we didn't really say hi back then. We just smiled at each other every once in a while." He pauses. "Well, I smiled. You blushed."

"I didn't blush." That's a blatant lie and we both know it.

He puts his hands at the dip in my waist, pulling me closer. "You did. I know you did."

"How do you know?" I challenge.

"Because I did it on purpose." My face goes hot and his smile widens and softens simultaneously. "There it is."

His hands drag slowly up my back, brushing my shoulders before landing on my face. They trace the apples of my cheeks where the blush is most prominent, before weaving back through my hair, pulling me closer to kiss me again. It's shorter this time, though no less wanting. "I should get you back," he says, his lips still against mine.

"I guess," I sigh, reluctantly pulling back. I unwind myself from my place on his lap and flop back over into my own seat but leave my legs draped across console, my calves lingering on his leg. I don't want to lose contact completely just yet.

He laughs as he looks over at me. "You might want to..." His hand waves around his face, "do stuff?"

I shrug lazily. "Stuff, huh? That's really all encompassing."

I suppose he's right, although I don't really want to. I'd rather not brush away what just happened here but I know that it's really just the appearance; I won't be losing what we just gained from this, whatever it is.

While he drives, I transform back into the Rosalie that's expected at school. The one with the perfect hair and the glossed lips. I'm still wearing his hoodie and that's the last thing I want to let go. It's his equivalent of a Letterman jacket (he has one of those, too, but it's not what I associate with him) and it makes me feel like I'm his, surrounded by him when I can't be near him.

When we get to the school parking lot, he slows considerably, looking around to see if there's anyone that might see us. There's not. "How do I look?" I purse my lips in a mock kiss, and there are the dark eyes once again.

"Beautiful." There's no teasing now. I feel it. Inside, outside, and all around. It's everywhere.

We make our way back into the school, pausing in the vestibule so I can return his hoodie. I'm reluctant giving it and I can tell that's he's reluctant taking it back. It's so much more than a hoodie; it's him taking care of me.

He taps his fingers against my lips quickly and then nods, looking down at his shoes. "Go on. You're going to be late."

I already am.

"Aren't you coming to English?" I ask, wondering if we can prolong this just a little bit longer.

"Nah, I'm going to go hang at Mr. B's for a bit. I've got a note I can give Berty later."

I pick up what he's not saying. It would look weird if he and I walked into the classroom together or even one right after the other. I know that I'll catch a ration of crap from Berty for being a couple of minutes late. I've seen how he acts when other students are, but I also know that being the NHS president carries more weight than it should. Other than hearing about it for a couple of minutes, that will be it.

I step away from him and turn, changing my expression from his to theirs.

And wish I could just be his all the time.

xoxo

"Homecoming court, Rosalie." Jess draws out the words, over-enunciating each one like I'm deaf. "You're on the court! I can't believe you missed the announcement."

Jess and Lauren are by my side immediately after class. Of course, I got notes tossed in my direction telling me as much, but rehashing things discussed in notes is what we do.

"Of course she's on the court," Lauren chimes in. "The teachers in this school love her. Did you see how Berty just raised an eyebrow and told her the page number we were on when she walked in like, fifteen minutes late? If anyone else tried that, they would have had automatic detention."

It's true. When I walked into the classroom, I got a sarcastic "How nice of you to join us, Ms. Hale. Glad you could fit us into your schedule," from Mr. Berty... and that was it. Honestly, I was a little disappointed it wasn't anything more. Even when I was bad, I was still golden.

I did get looks though, and not just from Jess and Lauren, who stared at me like I'd grown another head when I rushed in. Edward and Bella had given me surreptitious looks, too, Edward flicking his eyes toward Emmett's empty desk before bouncing back to me. I hadn't responded, mainly because I couldn't, but also because I didn't need to. To the people who knew, it was obvious why I was late and Emmett was missing. Of course, they probably only assumed we were together. I doubt they knew what we had been up to.

"So, where the hell did you run off to, Posie?" Jess asks, elbowing me in the side.

"Uh..." My brain is still sluggish from lunch, so it takes me a few seconds to figure out an alibi. Lauren notices and her eyes narrow slightly, but then a freshman accidentally bumps into her and she busies herself throwing him a withering look. "I was in the library. I'm kind of slammed with homework, so I wanted to get ahead."

"Yeah, I'm sure it had nothing to do with that sophomore slut sitting at our table."

"Jesus, Jess," I mutter, frowning at her. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

Jess snorts. "Uh, no. Mike walked in on them hooking up in his parents' bedroom on Fri-"

"Jessica!" Lauren interrupts, reaching across me to shove her. "You have the biggest mouth on the planet. No wonder Newt loves you."

Jess flushes scarlet and looks straight ahead, chewing on her bottom lip. They must have discussed this and decided not to say anything to me.

Obviously I haven't made it clear enough that I don't give a shit.

I stop, right in the middle of the hallway, and they do, too. People are streaming around us, a river of students, but I root myself to the ground and yank them in close so I don't have to speak up. "You guys, I don't care. It doesn't matter, okay? I broke up with him. He's free to date whomever he wants, hook up with whomever he wants, whatever. I just didn't want to deal with the awkwardness today, so I bailed. My feelings aren't hurt, trust me."

Lauren and Jess exchange a look, like they aren't quite sure what to make of me. But then Jess puts her hand on my back and rubs it soothingly. "Okay, Posie. We just want to make sure you're really okay with this, you know? You guys were together for three years and it seems like you... I don't know, moved on really fast."

Oh, if you only knew.

"Like I said when we talked on Saturday, it was over for me a long time before I actually broke it off. Roy's the one taking it hard, not me."

"Actually, I think Vera's the one taking it ha-"

"Shut up, Stan," Lauren bellows. "Christ!"

We all go quiet as a few people around us whip their heads around to stare at us. Jess claps her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. Lauren is rolling her eyes and shaking her head and I feel something bubbling up in my lungs. It escapes me as a snort and then I'm laughing, leaning against Lauren as she starts to crack up, too. Jess is last to join, still looking embarrassed. It's been so long since I've laughed with them like this, and it actually feels good. Maybe I'm still delirious from lunch and Emmett and his lips, but I'll take it.

"Will you guys drop it now? Please?" I ask when I've gotten a grip on myself. "I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

Lauren shrugs. "Okay. If you're cool, I'm cool. I'm not going to go out of my way to be nice to her, though. Or him, for that matter. It's not like you're flaunting some new relationship in his face."

Jess taps her nose and then mine. "Exactly. Just goes to show that you're the bigger person, Miss Homecoming Queen."

And just like that, they switch gears and move on to another subject. They don't even notice my silence. I'm sure they don't notice how hot my cheeks get, but I guess someone would really have to be paying attention to see the blush that I'm sure is spreading over my face.

I could tell them about Emmett right now, just blurt it out. But it's not the right time, not after what they just said. I think about how, two weeks ago, I was still with Roy, if only in the technical sense. I think about Jess and Lauren's hostility toward Vera. I know they don't hate her as a person. How can they? They barely know her. No, it's that he's moved on in what they think is too short a time, considering how serious we were. Or at least how serious we seemed. There are rules associated with this kind of thing, and Roy isn't the only one breaking them. It makes me want to stay quiet, at least for a little longer.

Besides, despite the fact that I feel myself slipping further and further under these heavy emotions, Emmett and I haven't talked about what we're doing, haven't made any spoken declarations.

So I say nothing. I walk with them down the hall, my lips burning from the memory of Emmett's kiss, but also from the things I can't tell my best friends.

Not yet.

xoxo

After school, we head to Lauren's house for some much needed Stan, Mallo and Posie time. Well, according to them it's much needed. I don't see much of a difference from what we normally do in terms of hanging out, but I suppose my quietness about Emmett does feel like it's driving a wedge between us.

Lauren's mom is there when we arrive, home with Lauren's youngest brother, whom we affectionately call Mini-Mallo (except when Lauren's pissed off about something and then she just calls him "Mistake"). The twins are still at school; the middle school has the latest buses for some reason.

There's always something going on at Lauren's house. My mom refers to it as organized chaos. She's always shaking her head, saying, "I don't know how Patsy does it." But as she says it, I catch that wistful look, the one she doesn't let slip by too often. Then she usually pulls me closer to her and kisses my forehead.

Mallo-Mom keeps us supplied with these amazing nachos she makes every time Jess and I come over. We sit at their kitchen table, talking animatedly about what's going on at school, and her mom just fits into the conversation. Sometimes she's easier to talk to than my own parents. Probably because she isn't mine.

After a few hours go by, I know that I need to get home if I have any chance of getting my homework done that night. We make plans for a shopping trip for Homecoming dresses, even though I'm dropping hints left and right that I wish I didn't even have to go to the dance. Who the hell am I going to go with?

When I get in the car, I fire off a quick text message to Em, telling him to call me when he gets the chance. I know he had football practice immediately after school, but I figure he's probably wrapping with that now.

On the way home, I find myself driving past Edward's house. My subconscious mind has something to do with this as I slow down, looking for Emmett's Jeep, in vain. Instead I find Edward, leaning into the trunk of his car, pulling out soccer equipment. I tap lightly on my horn, pulling up along the curb. He raises a hand in the air as he continues to pull equipment out and I get out of my car. "Shake ya ass, show me what you're working with."

He shakes his head instead of his ass, giving me a look. "Christ, Hale. Whitest girl version of that I've ever heard."

I point at the houses that surround us, the perfectly manicured everything. "I'm a product of my environment, Cullen."

"Aren't we all?" With that comment, I'm pretty sure we're no longer talking about my rapping skills, or lack thereof.

He lines up the soccer balls, one by one, kicking them to the far corner of his yard before dribbling the last one back and forth with his feet. "Noticed you weren't at lunch today."

Oh, so this is how we're going to play this. "Nope."

"You know..." He stops dribbling the ball, placing his foot on top of it. One of his arms slings around my shoulder, and he leans in, mock confidently. "Emmett wasn't at lunch today either."

"You don't say!" My eyes go wide and I feel my mouth pulling upward despite my best attempts to keep a straight face.

"Really." He nods solemnly. "And then? You were late to English and he was mysteriously nowhere to be found."

"Imagine that." I press my lips together while looking out at the street. I'm so failing at nonchalant. I'm bursting to tell someone so I blurt out, "He took me to his house, after I found him in the parking lot. I mean, I sort of forced the event into happening but... he took me home."

I know he'll latch on to the "took me home" portion of my statement and he does, but not how I expect him to. His arm drops from my shoulder and he steps back, frowning.

"You went to his house?"

I nod, raising an eyebrow. "I did."

"Emmett took you to his house," he repeats, as if he can't believe it. Okay, is it that hard to believe?

"Pretty sure that's what I just said, Cullen."

"Did you see..." He trails off, focusing back on the soccer ball underfoot, like he's trying to pick his words carefully. His expression melts from shock to practiced nonchalance. "Were you alone?"

He's really asking if I met Emmett's grandma, because where else would she be? He won't say it explicitly and the protective tone in his voice reminds me of how close-mouthed he was when Emmett went away in eighth grade. There's obviously a story here, so many things I still don't know about Emmett and his situation, but just like before, it's not Edward's story to tell. And really, I don't want to hear it from anyone other than Emmett. I want him to let me in, to trust me enough to tell me what's going on in his life. I'm starting to think that maybe I'm the only girl he's let in this far, and that makes me protective too. Of him and us and this thing that we're doing.

"No," I reply. "I knew her before, though, from the DAR."

"Still." There's so much he isn't saying in that one word - it's a big deal and this isn't the norm and probably other things I can't figure out because I don't know what he knows.

His "still" lingers there. I have no idea what to say in response, not without revealing things Emmett told me in confidence. We're basically at a standstill, neither one of us giving up any more information for the sake of our loyalty to Emmett. I don't want to share what I know and I don't want Edward to share his knowledge either. I want to hear it from Em.

Thankfully neither of us have to say anything because at that moment, the garage door behind the free space in the driveway automatically starts to open and we look up to see Dr. Cullen's Mercedes turning into the driveway. Once the car is nestled safely in the garage, he comes over to where Edward and I are standing, calling hello.

"Rosalie, it's good to see you! I've heard you've been hanging around here more lately. I'd hug you but I smell of hospital." He grins ruefully with a shrug. "How's it been going? School?" His voice lowers as he tilts his head toward me. "Got a boyfriend?"

It's obvious that he's heard something. I don't know if it's about Roy and I breaking up or Emmett and I being... whatever we are, but I choose to skirt that question altogether. Instead I put on my serious question face. "School's school, Doc. You're a professional. Tell me, is it possible to have senioritis within the first few weeks of my senior year?"

He taps his head, mock thoughtfully. "I suppose it is possible. I prescribe plenty of rest, football games, and starting a countdown to winter break."

"98... including weekends," Edward and I answer, simultaneously.

"I don't know whether to be impressed or worried that you already knew that information." Dr. Cullen shakes his head, trying to suppress a smile, then squeezes my arm. "Take care, kiddo. Tell your parents Es and I are looking forward to Thursday."

"What's Thursday?"

"We're going to do dinner, maybe a movie."

"Man, you guys know how to party," Edward says with mock-incredulity.

Dr. Cullen smacks Edward on the back, probably a little harder than necessary, then ruffles his hair. "You didn't get that mouth from me. I'll see you inside, okay? Mom's at a meeting so we're on our own for dinner tonight."

"Pizza?" Edward answers, expectantly.

"Dinner of champions, my son."

"I'll call from my cell while you de-hospitalize." Edward calls over his shoulder before turning back to me. "So hey, congratulations about the Homecoming court."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but just barely. My voice conveys what my eyes can't, though. "Yeah, thanks."

Edward's eyebrows go up, along with one side of his mouth. "Jeez, Hale, I don't think you could sound less enthused if you tried."

"Oh, I bet I could," I snark back.

He shrugs in agreement and crosses his arms, rocking back and forth on his heels. "So why aren't you excited? I would have thought Homecoming court would be right up your alley."

It's a valid statement. Last year, I probably would have been into it. But Last Year Rosalie is a very different girl than Right Now Rosalie. Last Year Rosalie pushed down those feelings of restlessness, of knowing that Roy and I weren't right for each other. That Rosalie forced the pieces to fit and hid the ones that didn't, because it was easier. Because that was who I was supposed to be. And I didn't question it, not until the nagging feeling of you're more than this and there's more to this became too big to ignore. There's been a ripple effect since that night I broke up with Roy, a feeling of freedom that washed over me when I told him it was over. It's only gotten more potent with my involvement in the paper, however small, and Alice wanting me to take pictures for her Etsy site. But it's the most powerful when I'm with Emmett, like I could be anything and anyone, and he'd take it all without question.

It's just that being on Homecoming court reminds me of the things I am supposed to be, and I'm having a hard time mustering up the excitement. Plus, now that I'm thinking about it, trying to figure out what the hell to do about the dance and whom I'm supposed to go with is not something I'm looking forward to.

Edward doesn't need to hear all of that, though, and probably doesn't want to on top of it. So, I just shrug and pick at a tiny chip in the polish on my pinky nail. I keep it simple by saying, "I guess it's not the court so much as the dance."

He nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. "Not looking forward to cutting a rug with Stan and Mallo?"

"Who says cutting a rug anymore?" He opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him. "Besides my grandparents."

"How about you stop deflecting and tell me why you're so opposed to the Homecoming dance?"

"I can think of a million reasons, but top of mind is the fact that I don't have a date."

"You don't?" Edward asks, but there's no surprise in his tone, only curiosity.

I give him a look. "I haven't been asked. And anyway, you know that group. I just broke up with Roy a couple weeks ago. There's a mourning period I'm supposed to be going through, apparently."

A smirk breaks out on his face. "I knew you broke up with him."

"What, Emmett didn't tell you?"

"Nah. I guessed and he didn't say no, but he didn't tell me anything," he replies. My heart swells so much that I think it might break out of my chest. I remember asking Emmett not to tell, making it the first secret between us, but it still surprises me that he didn't let it slip, not even to his closest friends. And at the same time, it doesn't surprise me at all. I know I can trust his word. I think I always knew; which is why it slipped out of me so easily. "It was pretty obvious to anyone with half a brain. The guy took every opportunity to tell people he ditched you, which pretty much reeked of wounded ego."

"He's moved on," I say with a shrug.

Edward laughs and reaches out to grab me by the shoulder. "Ro, c'mon. He hasn't moved on. Roy knows you're the best he'll ever get. But you have moved on, which brings us back to Homecoming."

His eyes are piercing and I swallow, looking out toward my car, cherry red and spotless. "I don't want to go with just anyone and I…I don't know," I trail off lamely with a shrug.

"What about Em?" he presses.

I shift uncomfortably from foot to foot, thinking of my conversation with Jess and Lauren earlier. "I don't even know if we're at that point, Cullen. He hasn't mentioned it. And even if we are, you know better than almost anyone how my crew rolls. They didn't exactly welcome Bella with open arms, did they?"

"I'm not even going to start about why your logic is flawed, because you are really talking to the wrong person about this." He's staring me down now, his eyebrows raised meaningfully. It's not like he shunned his friends to pursue Bella, but he definitely didn't let them stand in his way, either. He must see something in my expression, though, how much I don't want to get into this right now, because one side of his mouth pulls up into a crooked half-grin. "Well hey, anyway, I understand not being pumped to go. Bella's going to visit her mom in Phoenix that weekend. Belated birthday trip or whatever, so she gets out of going. I was thinking about skipping, but since I'm on the court..."

"Oh!" Guess I missed more than just my own announcement at lunch. "Uh, congrats?"

He shrugs, his indifference showing.

"I guess skipping isn't an option for either of us, then." Because I'm nothing if not dramatic, I throw my head back and wail, "Why is life so hard?"

"I'm crying on the inside," Edward says dryly. "You wanna stay and have pizza with me and my dad? I should call soon."

"Nah, I better get home and have some face time with my parents." I turn toward my car. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yep," he says, scrolling through his list of contacts. As I'm walking away, he calls after me, "And hey, Rosalie? I'm going to sound like my dad here because he always says this but… these things have a way of working themselves out." Then he pauses and I think he's done, but just as I turn to speak, he throws in something that's more Edward and less Carlisle. "But don't fuck this up."

"Thanks." I open the door to my car and pull the sunglasses that are perched on my head down over my eyes. "Oh, and for the record, your dad isn't a bad guy to sound like."

xoxo

When I get home, I'm surprised to find my mom already there. I help with dinner prep, washing the lettuce and cutting the vegetables for the salad. We talk about our day with Eric underfoot, waiting for any scraps that might fall his way.

My cell phone is in my pocket and I keep checking to see if there are any missed calls or texts.

"Waiting to hear from the girls?" she asks. I just nod, even though I've told her that I spent the majority of the afternoon with them.

I can tell that somehow she's already heard through the rumor mill about the Homecoming court, by her exaggerated, "So, did anything special happen at school today?" and the way she feigns surprise when I tell her. I don't know why she bothers to hide that she knows. I make a promise to myself that I'll never do that when I have kids. I'll just tell it like it is.

While she's heard about the court, I know she hasn't heard about my pictures being published in the paper, the thing that's actually important to me. I bound over to my bag, excited to show her, and rifle through it until I find a copy of the paper. Maybe showing her the pictures will make her understand how much it means to me, how much I want to do this. Maybe she'll even think I'm good at it. She's seen pictures here and there, but never like this.

"Hey Mom, I wanted to show you the -"

I'm cut off by the phone ringing. Her finger goes in the air as she rushes toward it. "Hold on a sec, sweetie."

I watch as she wipes her hands on a dishtowel and grabs the phone, balancing it between her cheek and shoulder. I can tell from her side of the conversation (mostly mmhmms and other short answers) that Dad's stuck at the office, that we'll have to eat without him. After she hangs up, she looks disappointed for a brief moment. But then her expression smooths out and she drifts back to set the table. I notice she pours herself extra wine when she's done placing two settings.

The newspaper falls back into my bag, soundlessly.

Instead of retreating to my room after dinner like I normally do, I hang out at the table and do my homework there. Not surprisingly, it goes a lot quicker without the distractions of my room, my music and phone calls and texts. As I'm finishing my Calc homework, Mom comes behind me, looking over my shoulder. She plays with my hair with one hand, holding Eric with the other. "I don't even remember that stuff. I'm not even sure I learned that stuff. You're so much smarter than me, Rosalie."

I don't miss the note of pride in her voice and it irritates me for reasons I can't quite place. I think again of the paper and my pictures, now hidden in my bag, and wonder if she'd be just as proud looking at my photos as she is seeing that I've mastered the art of solving derivatives and integrals.

"Well hey, it's good to know that I'll not need this in my life after high school and college," I grumble, hunching over my book, and then add to myself, "why bother?"

She hears it, of course, having super-sonic mom hearing, and leans over to kiss the top of my head. "Because it's expected that you have these foundations now."She straightens at the sound of the garage door opening. "Oh! Your father's home. Let's go say hi to Daddy, Eric." I swear that dog sticks his tongue out at me as my mom carries him away. She turns back to me before she reaches the doorway. "Thanks for hanging out with me, sweetheart."

I nod just as my phone lights up, Em flashing on the screen. Finally. My irritation fades away just seeing his name.

"Well, well, look who it is," I drawl, quickly standing and gathering my school stuff with one hand. I've got one eye on the hallway leading to the garage, where my parents will be coming in any moment. "I was wondering if you were ever going to call me."

Emmett laughs low in his throat and I shiver. Somehow his voice is even sexier over the phone. "I would've called earlier, but I was sidelined by the bitch-out I got from Gram."

"Bitch-out? What do you mean?" I repeat, freezing. For a second, I worry that it's because of me. Maybe I wasn't supposed to be at their house. Maybe I did something at the DAR once that pissed her off, like called out a number that gave someone else a bingo. God, what if she hates me?

"I got the crackdown from Berty."

I'm so caught up in my mental turmoil - shit, we're like Romeo and Juliet, what am I going to do?- that his statement doesn't sink in right away. My parents walk in, hand in hand, looking perfect, pristine and happy. I suppose my mom is over the lateness. My heart and voice both stutter. "Berty?"

My dad's eyes light up in recognition. Good, they think I'm talking about school, probably with Jess or Lauren. I keep my face completely neutral and hope I'm not flushed. Nothing to see here, folks.

I must sound like a complete idiot to Emmett. Or a parrot. Or an idiotic parrot. All I can do is repeat back what he's said to me, but my parents are right there watching me and this Calc book is really goddamn slippery right now. I can't get a grip on it. I just want to get out of here and be alone with my phone and Emmett.

"Yes, Berty," Emmett replies, sounding amused. "He gave me detention for skipping and the school called Gram to let her know. You don't want to see my gram when she's pissed. Shit, I don't want to see her when she's pissed."

I finally get my book and pen and notepad cradled safely in my arm and wiggle my fingers at my parents before dashing out of the kitchen to the stairs. "How the hell did that happen? I thought you had a note," I ask when I'm far enough that I know they won't hear.

"Uh, well, I was a little distracted and forgot to grab one at home."

A smile spreads across my face at the thought of being the one who drove him to distraction. I can almost see the sweet blush on his cheeks.

"I can't believe he gave you detention. Doesn't he know who you are?" I walk into my room, dropping my things onto my desk. I cross my room and collapse on my bed, gazing up at the ceiling. I imagine Emmett doing the same thing.

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly why I got detention," he laughs. "Anyway, he said he was going easy on me by giving me Saturday detention instead of after-school. That way I don't have to miss practice, you know."

"How benevolent," I say dryly.

"Ooh, nice SAT word, Hale."

"I try." An idea blooms in my mind and I roll onto my side, hugging a pillow to my stomach. "Hey, listen, if you need help catching up on what you missed today, my tutoring services are still on the table."

"Are they now?" I love the sound of his voice right now, like he's promising me something.

"They are. Interested?"

"You have no idea." I'm pretty sure I do. "So, when do you want to, uh, tutor me?" His tone is heavy with insinuation and I snort softly.

"My parents are going out with Edward's parents on Thursday." I pause. He stays quiet, an anticipating silence. "Um, so if you want to come over while they're doing that...?"

"Sure," he replies, voice low, and that one word makes my heart beat hard. I press my knees together tightly.

We're quiet for a minute. I can hear him breathing and I close my eyes, pretending like I'm in his room with him, or he's here with me. The silence stretches between us, but it's not weird. It's the type of silence I didn't even know existed, full and comfortable.

"What are you doing right now?" I ask finally, because I want to hear his voice again.

"Thinking about you."

There's a slow-spread of warmth through my body at his words, making me sigh. "What about me?"

"Not telling."

"Why not?"

He inhales, this long, slow breath and I can hear the smirk in his voice when he speaks. "I want to show you instead."

Is it Thursday yet?

Why yes... yes it is Thursday. See, if we were slick, we would have posted this on Monday so that Thursday posted on Thursday.

We're clearly not so slick.

What we are is thankful! Thanks to our darling Jan for always being so helpful, both with this story and just in general. Val and JD are generally ridiculous with us and we're all going to meet in the middle of a country for a Starbucks Butterbeer or something.

And of course, if you're reading this, we are SO grateful. The reviews we've been getting really do mean the world to us and we're so appreciative of the support.

We'll give you a teaser from THURSDAY if you're interested! xoxoxo