I open my mouth to ask her what her dreams are, but I’m interrupted by a loud shout coming from my sliding glass door.
“Bitch, I’m bored! Just admit defeat already!”
Scrambling up from the chair when I look back and see the guy I’m just now remembering Emily was here with, I look back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes, wondering if I stole this guy’s date and he’s going to be pissed. Until he shouts again.
“You know I have to be home by three, or I turn into a faerie!”
“That joke is old and worn out! You have to be home by three, or Joe will call the cops!” Emily shouts back with a shake of her head as she pushes herself up from her chair and we’re standing toe-to-toe. “His husband thinks we get into too much trouble when we’re together, and now he has a curfew.”
I laugh and then quickly sober when I realize our night is ending. She’s scooping up those sexy boots from the ground that she pulled off and tossed to the side during cornhole and quickly backing away from me. And I don’t even know her full name!
“Can I at least get your last name before you walk away, leaving my pride at my game-playing abilities slashed and bleeding all over my backyard?”
“I’m sure your pride will be just fine the next time you throw a touchdown pass,” she replies cheekily. “It’s Emily. Just… Just Emily.”
Sliding my hands into my front pockets, I come to the conclusion it’s probably for the best I don’t know everything about her; otherwise, she’d probably become a bigger obsession for me than football. And sadly, that just can’t happen for me right now, as much as I want it to.
“All right then, Just-Just Emily. Maybe the next time I need to be brought down a few pegs, I’ll track you down,” I shout across the yard to her, hoping that didn’t sound creepy as fuck as she moves farther and farther away from me, taking her smile, her laughter, and all the fun she brought to my life with her.
“Don’t worry. I know who you are. Maybe I’ll track you down.”
She gives me a small wave before she turns, joining her friend at my open sliding glass door and disappearing inside my house.
I hope you do track me down someday, Just-Just Emily. Someday when my life isn’t so crazy.
CHAPTER 4
Emily
“Buckle up, fuckers!”
“I know you two gossiping girls have already explained this to me several times, but I’m gonna need you to do it once more, just to make sure I’m not in the goddamn Twilight Zone,” I speak to the two people standing in front of me in a smooth, calm voice, but they still cower in fear.
They both also take a few nervous steps back until they bump into the check-in counter of the Sandbar Cottages rental office and have nowhere else to go.
I have had the week from absolute hell that has been spent trying to figure out which one of my friends betrayed me, since none of them would fess up to it until recently. On top of changing my email address, getting a new cell phone number, and logging out of all my social media accounts, refusing to look at them again. But not before I was told I’m a fat, ugly, talentless shrew with bad hair, who ruined Quinn Bagley’s life and quite possibly his career. Not to mention what I’ve had to deal with from my parents, who have only forgiven me for my “betrayal of Ryan” because the only man they love more than Ryan Hutton is their favorite quarterback. Who they are just positively delighted plays for the home team now and is dating their youngest daughter.
My life could not possibly get any worse right now. But I have kept my cool like always, and I haven’t hurt anyone yet. That should give me bonus points somewhere.
Thank God for a good police department and tight security on Summersweet; otherwise, I probably would have had to move as well. Although, at this point, if one more person on this island stops to talk to me about the rumors, I’m going to move to the moon.
“Please don’t hurt us!”
“You’re super scary when you’re mad. You still smile and act nice, and I don’t like it!”
“I’m not going to hurt you; I just want to talk,” I reply with a smile that, judging by the wide-eyed looks on everyone’s face, might be a little bit frightening.
“Sweetie, don’t be upset with Shepherd and Palmer. They were just trying to help in their own sweet, stupid way,” Wren says in a soft voice, leaning down from where she’s sitting on top of the check-in counter to wrap her arms around her fiancé’s shoulders.