Chapter 14: Emmett

I paced near the door, glancing at my phone every few seconds. Isla sat on the stone steps, scrolling on her Apple Watch, a small smirk on her face.

"What?" I asked, glaring at her.

She shrugged. "Tasha's supposed to come today, right?"

"Yeah, at three," I replied, running a hand through my hair.

"It's 3:30," Isla said, her voice dripping with amusement.

"She's just running late," I assured her, more to convince myself than anything else.

"Or maybe she's standing you up," Isla teased, her smirk widening.

I frowned, turning my head toward the door just as the doorbell rang. Relief washed over me as I quickly shoved the white envelope in my pocket and swung the door open.

"T!" I greeted with a grin.

Tasha stood there in pink joggers and a simple white T-shirt, her braids pulled back. "Emmett," she said with a smile, her eyes lighting up.

I stepped aside, letting her in. "Sorry I'm late," she said quickly. "I had to drop off Connor."

"No worries," I replied, amused by how flustered she looked.

Before I could say anything else, Isla pushed past me, throwing her arms around Tasha in a hug.

"Don't worry about it. At least you showed up," Isla said, pointedly glaring at me. "Unlike my brother, who stood you up before."

"I apologized for that," I muttered, feeling a stab of guilt.

Tasha glanced up at me with a small nod. "Yeah, you did."

Wanting to escape Isla's taunts, I touched Tasha lightly on the back. "Let's go up to my room and get started on the project," I said.

As Tasha headed upstairs, I turned back to Isla, sticking my tongue out at her in triumph.

Once we were in my room, Tasha pulled out her backpack. "So, I was thinking we could add some pictures to the slideshow," she suggested.

"Actually, I was thinking we could talk first," I blurted out, pulling the envelope from my pocket.

Tasha paused, her brown eyes narrowing slightly. "About what?"

"Friday," I said, clearing my throat. "I heard you talking with Damien."

"Yeah," she said slowly, looking at me with curiosity.

"He was telling you about some restaurants?" I asked, feeling the familiar sourness creep up.

"Yeah," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips. "He mentioned a few places he's tried. I love trying new foods."

I hated how happy she looked talking about him.

"Cool," I muttered. "I just wanted to make sure he wasn't telling you lies about me or anything."

Tasha raised an eyebrow. "Damien told me you two don't get along, but he's never said anything bad about you. I don't think he's a bad guy."

I bit my tongue, annoyed but knowing I couldn't tell her who she could or couldn't talk to. Still, I made a mental note to have a word with Damien on Monday.

"I got something for you," I said, holding up the envelope.

Her brows furrowed as she took it from me.

"I know your birthday's in two weeks," I explained, rubbing the back of my neck. "Milton mentioned this book event you wanted to go to, so..."

She opened the envelope, her lips parting as she pulled out two tickets to Book Con.

For a moment, she said nothing, just staring at the tickets.

"Tasha?" I called softly.

Still no response.

"Pinky," I murmured, gently tilting her chin up so she'd look at me.

Her brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and a bashful smile crept across her face. One tear slipped free, and I instinctively wiped it away with my thumb.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You didn't have to do this."

"I'm your friend. Of course, I did," I said, grinning awkwardly.

She smiled wider, and we both looked away, the air between us thick with something I couldn't quite name.

"So," I said, clearing my throat. "About those pictures for the slideshow?"

"Right," she said, nodding quickly.

We spent the next few hours working on the project. By the end of it, I was exhausted. English had never been my strong suit, and research didn't come naturally to me.

"You ready for life after high school?" I asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"I'm scared," she admitted. "But yeah, I'm excited for college."

"What about you?" she asked, sitting up to look at me.

"My dad's set on me going to Harvard. My mom wants me to choose for myself," I said with a sigh.

"Have you looked into other schools?"

"Sort of," I admitted. "But I've mostly been thinking about football."

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, tilting her head.

"My dad wants me to quit after high school so I can focus on preparing to take over the family company," I said grumpily.

There was a pause before Tasha clapped her hands, startling me into sitting up.

"You can do both!" she said with determination. "You're smart. You're in the top fifteen percent of our class. Talk to your dad about it. And if you need help researching schools, I can help."

I laughed softly. "You've gotten so much more confident."

Her cheeks flushed pink. "It's easy talking to you."

Her words settled something in me. "Thanks, Pinky. I'll take your advice—and your offer."

"Okay, E," she said, her voice high-pitched and playful.

After a little more talking, I walked her downstairs. Watching her laugh with my mom and sister stirred a strange, unfamiliar feeling in my chest.

"They adore her," my dad said, standing beside me with a smile.

"Yeah," I muttered, unable to tear my eyes away.

I followed her out to her car, leaning against it as she wiped happy tears from her eyes.

"You're embarrassed," she teased, her laugh soft and melodic.

"Are you teasing me, Pinky?" I smirked.

"No," she whispered, her smile turning shy.

I straightened up, stepping back. "Goodbye, T."

"Goodbye, E."