EmilieI'm having trouble breathing after Brandon's soft lips part from mine. I never thought my first kiss would be with him—the popular jock who is also the son of a billionaire. He is very pretty, too, the kind of guy with eyelashes women around the world would kill for. And I'm in trouble because I want to taste his lips again. I know I'm out of his league, but a girl can dream....right?His muscular arms still hold me, and a faint, pink blush spreads over his face. He must be embarrassed. All of his friends watched him kiss me. And they have no idea it's all for the show, that we are fake-dating, and that he doesn't even like me. In their eyes, their friend has gone mad—why else would he kiss me?Suddenly, one of his friends whistles loudly with two fingers stuffed into his mouth. I recognize him as Henry Scampert. He has been relentless in his bullying ever since middle school. There was this one time he dipped my whole face in the toilet, and trust me, he didn't care that I w
EmilieAfter all of my art classes are over, I'm beat. I've spent most of the day trying not to drop my clothes that are far too big, and I can't wait to get home to change. Luckily, Brandon wasn't around to see me struggle. After lunch, he left for an economy class and said something about being busy with football and gym later. We parted ways, and since I don't have a phone(I left it at Jenna's place after I fled from her party), we didn't exchange phone numbers. Not that I mind. Brandon will change his mind about fake-dating me once he finds someone prettier. That way, he won't have to tarnish his image by being seen with a nerd like me. Sighing, I quicken my pace until I'm finally outside my apartment. It's lively as usual, and when I walk up the stairs, I hear TV series and music playing from behind the doors that I pass. I don't pay it any mind and fish up my keys from my pocket. I'm about to walk up the last stairs when I almost crash into someone—Cindy, the girl from my art
EmilieI come home late after watching Desperate Housewives with Cindy and Laura for hours. It was fun, but my eyes hurt. Gah. I'm ready to sink into my Pokémon oodie and say goodbye to the world before I head off to Dreamland. I'm so tired...But maybe a sandwich would be good? I change into my oodie and open the fridge, scanning the shelves for some ingredients. KNOCK KNOCK!!!My eyes dart to the door. Did I forget something at Cindy's place? I stop making my sandwich and stomp over to the hallway. I expect to find Cindy behind it, maybe even Laura, but it's Brandon. "Where have you been?!" These are the first words he barks at me. "I've knocked on your door a billion times!"I stare up at him since words won't come to me—my selective mutism has struck again. Brandon, however, doesn't call me out on this and instead sighs before handing me a box and a bag. "Your clothes are in the bag, and there's a new phone in the box. You're welcome."Wait, he went to Jenna's place to get my c
Brandon I jerk awake when an episode of the rom-com ends and notice Emilie has fallen asleep. Her head rests in my lap, red hair sprawled out in every direction, and I frown. “Typical...” A sigh leaves my lips. I planned to spend the night with her so she would fall for me. That’s my sole reason for coming to her apartment, but the little lady fell asleep on me before we could get to the good part: me getting undressed. How am I supposed to seduce her now?! Emilie shivers in her sleep, and I roll my eyes before picking her up into my arms. She doesn’t wake up. Her head rolls against my chest, a content smile on her mischievous little lips. I place her on her bed and tuck her in. I plan on sleeping on the couch but freeze when her eyes open. “Is it morning yet?” she mumbles. My lips twitch. “No, go back to sleep.” “But I’m not tired...” I snort. “Filthy liar.” “Okay, so maybe a little tired,” she giggles, making herself more comfortable against her pillow. “Are you staying ove
Emilie "I need you." My jaw slacks to the ground. I'm more than a little shocked to hear those words. What's even more startling is seeing Brandon half-naked inside my living room. Why isn't he wearing a shirt? And why is he looking at me like I'm his next meal?! "Uhh…" I take a step back from him out of sheer anxiety. "Wh-what are you doing here?" "I had to see you," he says. I squint at him. "Can you repeat that?" Is he drunk? Maybe there are funny mushrooms in his system? I keep studying him in silence, causing him to chuckle. "Aren't you happy to see me?" Even though I open my mouth, I'm not given a chance to respond. Brandon closes the distance between us - almost as if he teleported - and suddenly, his hands are on my waist, lifting me up into his arms. "I've been thinking about you a lot," he murmurs against my neck as he breathes me in. I'm so nervous that I release this awkward laugh. "Y-you have?" "Mhm…" "I see…" This is so awkward. I lean back, and Brandon smi
Emilie "You were never meant to be with Brandon," Laura says as she reads the lines in my palm. My apartment is pitch-black, and the only light source is a few flickering candles on my table. "It's very strange that Brandon came into your life...almost as if it were by a random event..." I squirm in my chair. "Is that so?" "Yes," she lifts her green eyes to mine. "But that doesn't mean you can't change the future. There might be a chance if you would rather be with Brandon than the one I saw you marrying in my first vision." "Who did you see me marrying?" "Sheldon Milhouse." My heart somersaults, not because I'm in love with Sheldon, but because he asked me out a month ago, or...I think that's what he was doing. Sheldon is bad with words - just like me - and I only understood what he was trying to do when it was too late. I sigh. "Sheldon is from my art class." "I know," Laura smiles. "Tall, lanky, and looks a bit nerdy?" "That sounds like him," I say. But he is nice, and I do
Emilie "I can't believe you're letting me borrow this dress!" I spin around inside Cindy's living room and beam at her. "No problem. It suits you," Cindy says and claps her hands. "I've never used that short A-line dress before. Pink isn't my color, but I love it on you. You look cute!" "Agreed," Laura says from the armchair. She is popping popcorn into her mouth, and Brandon narrows his eyes. "How aren't you fat yet?" he mutters. "You're always eating." "I go to the gym," she answers back with spice. "But this isn't about me—don't you think your girlfriend is pretty?" I wait for the moment his attention shifts to my dress, curious about his reaction to me wearing pretty clothes and makeup. My chest is heaving. Finally, his eyes land on mine. It's truly the most nervous moment of tonight since his opinion matters the most. Sadly, he doesn't seem that impressed. He looks away. "The dress is fine..." Just fine? My courage falters, but the second Cindy sees my smile vanishing, s
Emilie"I can't believe your car didn't want to start," Laura sighs while half-running beside me. She is wearing platform shoes, and each footstep shakes the entire pavement. "You need to buy a new one. This is ridiculous!""Maybe...you should...ask...your rich...parents...for...a car," Cindy says between her pants. She is running in high heels, which must be painful. I have a feeling she will have blisters tomorrow."Oh yeah?" Laura glares at her. "What about my independence?"Cindy shocks us by growling, "Screw your independence! I'm tired, and this could all have been avoided if you had asked your parents for a car! You haven't even paid rent this month!""Fine, fine. I will call them! Sheesh," Laura looks ahead again, tapping my shoulder. We are on Jenna's street, and three men are standing outside of her gates."I can't believe you were violent to a girl—a girl, Henry!" Vincent, the quarterback on the football team, growls at his teammate."It was Emilie! Who the fuck cares?!" He
BrandonToday is the day. I have taken Emilie to a luxurious restaurant and now I want to tell her that I love her. I’m not sure when I fell for her, but what I do know is that she is the reason I’m not drowning myself in alcohol. After my mother passed away, Emilie was the sun keeping me alive—my cheerleader.She is special to me, and I want her to know her, but I suck with words. I’m a meathead, and tonight, I seem to have entered extra pussy-territory. Not a single word has left my lips all night. I’m too busy blushing over Emilie’s looks and her smiles, which is odd.This isn’t my first time seeing a pretty woman, but for some reason, Emilie looks even more stunning tonight. But I’m not the only one who has noticed. We have this good-looking waiter that keeps popping up at our table every second, and it’s pissing me off. Can’t a guy seduce his future wife in peace? The waiter is ruining everything!Right on cue, the bloke shows up by our table. He is as unwanted as a pimple in the
EmilieI have no chance of escaping the makeover. Cindy and Laura drag me into the bathroom and force me to sit down on the toilet seat. They are both wearing leers on their faces, but Laura frightens me more than Cindy. “Maybe I don’t need makeup...” I mumble. “Nonsense!” Laura exclaims and picks up a wet wipe. “You need this, Emilie. You’re going out on a date and need to look good...not that you’re ugly or anything.”I pout. “I am ugly...”“That’s not true!” Laura growls. “I’m not pretty, and I’m aware of it,” I grunt. “Sometimes, I wonder why Brandon even dates me since I’m so out of his league.”“Because he isn’t blind,” Laura mutters. “Trust me. You’re pretty, but after I’m done with you, you’re going to look like sex on a stick.”I laugh. “Sex on a stick? Is that a good thing?”“You bet it is! And guess what? I know exactly what kind of makeup is needed to achieve that, but before we apply any makeup, we need to clean your face!”“And brush your hair,” Cindy chimes in. “You’
Emilie"Brandon hasn't replied to your texts because men are all the same: they all want sex, and once you give it to them, they are all done," Cindy says from her place on my couch. "You think that's the case?" I ask. I've been on cloud nine ever since Brandon gave me head, but he hasn't replied to any of my texts today, so I'm a bit bummed out. Laura sighs and stops filing down her nails. "Don't listen to her. Brandon is a human and probably busy at the gym or something. There's an upcoming game, and I bet he is nervous since his Dad told him he will no longer inherit the family business."I told Cindy and Laura about Brandon's family drama. I didn't give them all the information, but they know enough to have concluded Brandon's Dad is a jerk. "Why would he be nervous?" Cindy asks. "The guy could join the NFL already if he wanted.""He was offered in the past, but now, when his first plan of taking over the family company no longer exists, he probably feels pressured to win the u
EmilieLater that same night, Brandon takes me to a hotel in the same town where my mother’s hospital is located. He doesn’t bother to ask me if I mind sharing the same room. I don’t. Being alone right now would be the worst thing ever.“I hope you’re happy with our room. It’s supposedly the best view in town,” Brandon says, probably in an attempt to lighten the moon, but I don’t respond. I just stare out into nothingness while Brandon hangs up his jacket in the background. He is talking, but I can’t hear him. My mind is empty, and I walk towards the bathroom without taking off my clothes. There is a large shower area inside. One of those large, luxurious showers with rocks on the wall to imitate a tropical place, and I press my palms against the cool wall as the water cascades down, drenching my clothes, my hair, and my skin as the tears fall down. I feel like a broken woman and can’t stop the ocean from spilling from my eyes. Why am I never included in anything? Why am I so fucki
EmilieMy Dad leads us to his car that’s parked by the curb. It’s a cute red little thing, and I glance up at Brandon, wondering if his 6’6 frame is going to fit. He gives me an amused smirk. “Don’t worry, I will manage.”“You sure?”“Yeah, there’s a guy on the football team with a worse car than this.”My Dad clears his throat as if offended, and Brandon grimaces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you.”There is no response, and Brandon silently folds himself into the back seat. I slide in beside him, feeling a small measure of comfort in his presence before my Dad starts the car.The drive to St. Mary’s Hospital is tense and too damn long. At some point, I fall asleep only to wake up when my Dad drives over a bump in the road. “Hello, sleepyhead,” Brandon says, and that’s when I notice I’m leaning my head against his bicep. “Did you sleep well?”“Not really…”Brandon doesn’t try to make more conversation. His large hand finds mine, his fingers lacing with mine in a silent show of su
EmilieWhen I wake up the next day, I find Brandon snuggled close to me, clinging onto me as if he never wants to let go. We are curled up in my bed, my nose nuzzled into his sturdy chest while his big hands play with my hair. His chest rises and falls like two fluffy pillows, and I can feel his warm breath tickling my scalp each time he exhales.I smile and hesitantly reach out my right hand to place it on his side. He doesn’t even twitch, so I slowly stroke his tanned skin. It seems innocent at first, but then my fingers drift down to his lower abdominal muscles. What can I say? A girl has needs. Like a pervert, I skim over them lightly, relishing the way they twitch under my touch, the subtle shiver that it coaxes from Brandon’s sleeping form. He’s still asleep, his expression peaceful, the blonde stubble on his jaw giving him a rugged look that my fingers itch to trace.A small puff of air escapes his lips as my fingertips skirt the waistband of his boxers, though I stop shy of l
Emilie“Brandon…” I whisper, feeling the weight of his name as I try to rake my brain for something to say. But what do you tell someone who has just lost their parent? Nothing can take the pain away, so I say the only thing that comes to mind. “I’m… I’m so sorry for your loss.”As soon as I’ve said those words, I regret them because I think I just broke the man I love. Brandon’s hands grip the steering wheel tighter even though the car’s engine isn’t on, knuckles whitening. And then there’s a sound that shatters the silence—a guttural sob that seems to wrench from deep within him. My heart lurches. Brandon, my Brandon, the guy who’s more likely to be a grumpy bastard than a sensitive, sweet guy, is crying. Tears are flooding down his face, and I feel terrible. Should I have ignored the elephant in the room and not said anything?“Hey.” My voice is strained since there’s a lump of guilt in my throat. But it doesn’t stop me from trying to comfort him. I reach out tentatively, placi
BrandonI think I’m living in denial. My mom is gone, and she won’t come back. She is officially dead, yet the tears aren’t here yet. Instead of crying, I’m staring into space while my siblings are joking around with Emilie. I guess it’s their way of handling their grief, cracking jokes and smiling to ignore the pain of losing one’s parent. But one look at Bailey and Bernie tells me they will both be in tears once they are alone in bed. I won’t be getting away from the pain, either. I’m already feeling the sadness creep up on me even though I’m trying to keep it at bay. I can’t cry here. Emilie would be so embarrassed if I suddenly started bawling my eyes out inside a fast-food restaurant. Then again, maybe I could get away by saying I’m crying because this is the best chicken I’ve ever had?But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it?This chicken is far from the best I’ve ever had. My mom’s slow-cooked roast chicken will forever have the honor of being the best chicken I’ve ever had, an
EmilieThe blood in my veins freezes over at Clinton's words. Did I hear him correctly? He said those words so casually as if we didn't just say farewell to his wife. Even in grief, the man doesn't cease to be cold and calculating. Brandon takes a moment to respond, and when he does, his voice is calm but laced with controlled anger. "How dare you..." he starts, then swallows hard, collecting himself before continuing. "Now is not the time for this discussion.""I talk about what I want whenever I want, and I won't let you date some nobody without money—"Something swishes past me, and my breath hitches when Brandon's fist connects with Clinton's jaw. The older man stumbles back, holding his face in surprise as Brandon towers over him, visibly shaking with rage. "You will not," Brandon snarls, each word pronounced with deadly precision, "speak about Emelie that way. Nor dictate who I choose to be with."Clinton recovers from his surprise and straightens up, wiping a streak of blood