Page 28

Chapter 28

Emilie

Unknown

New phone number who dis

it’s Zack

I didn’t want you to block me thinking I'm some creep

Me

why the new number

you said it bothered you, the random texts and pictures

from people I used to date or whatever

and it’s been out of control for a while tbh

you didn’t have to do that

no, I did

3

you’re the first person I texted, consider yourself special

I'll be at your place in ten

My stomach flips and somersaults, and I realize I’m smiling at my phone like a completely unhinged human being. Call me the Joker from Batman. I set my phone down on my vanity, like it’s hot and going to burn my fingers, and put my hands over my mouth. Even with the hands, I can see the ridiculous smile underneath.

It feels like my lips have been on fire ever since we kissed, or since I lived out one of my fantasies. A hot professional athlete picking me up, setting me on his bar, and kissing me silly? Okay, yes. I’m on board with this.

Zack kissed me.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t said those words aloud, to myself in the mirror, to reiterate the point. It happened. In real life.

If my heart could sing, it would. I’ve had hookups where men have driven me wild, or have made me see stars, but I've never felt like this during a first kiss. Like it’s what the universe had planned and has just been cackling at the two of us trying to figure it out. Like I want to do it forever. Like I want him kissing every single inch of me.

Now, Zack is picking me up to go to dinner with his family. This was planned before the kiss that changed my entire outlook on life, but it somehow feels like this is exactly how things were supposed to go.

Luckily, Willow needed to move a meeting we had scheduled. I know she’ll take one look at me and know something isn’t the same. The flush of breaking the rules crawls up my neck, showing on my reflection in the mirror .

I watch my fingers as they graze my lips and try to think back to the exact feeling, everywhere Zack kissed me—but it’s like a fever dream.

Snapping out of it, I change into the outfit I picked out for dinner. His mom is cooking, and Zack said it’s laid back, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t agonize over what to wear. I landed on a black and white striped boat-neck top with a black midi skirt.

There’s a knock on my door as I smooth the skirt a final time and grab a quick look at my reflection.

I open the door to see Zack, propped against the frame. He's doing the door lean—I might pass out. Before I can utter a single word, sound, anything to confirm I’m still awake, he beats me to it.

“How do you do this? Look this good for a meal I said my mom was cooking.” He pops off the door frame and walks toward me.

For a split second, I wonder if this will be awkward—seeing each other after an almost too-hot make out session slash first kiss slash jump into whatever this is. Before my brain has time to spiral, Zack answers my question.

With his hand on the side of my face and his thumb below my chin, he puts his lips on mine.

Zack is kissing me. Again. I can’t help but smile into him. Part of me wondered if the other night was a fluke. This would argue it wasn’t, that we aren’t.

He tastes like sugar as I deepen the kiss, my tongue touching the seam of his lips. My rib cage feels like it’s too small and my heart is going to crack it open. I can feel it in every inch of my body, no need to check my pulse.

I take my hand and put it at the hem of his forest green henley. Moving it between my fingers a few times before I reach for him beneath the shirt, my hands on his skin. He flexes at the touch, surprised, and the muscles push back against my fingers .

“If you keep doing that, we’re going to miss dinner.” He pulls back but I keep my hand under his shirt, laughing. “And I don’t piss off my sister, when I can help it.” He gives me a quick, chaste kiss.

“Baby, you ready?”

I don’t know if anyone has ever called me that. Baby . I feel like it’s something people say but don’t actually like. In this moment, I know one thing to be true.

Zack can call me baby whenever he wants.

We pull into the driveway, and Zack smiles as he says, “I love coming home.”

It’s a brick two-story house, with white paint and a wraparound porch—rocking chairs and all. The house sits back, farther from the road, purple flowers and greenery decorate the front.

A wave of nostalgia hits me. This reminds me of Michigan.

My childhood home now belongs to another family, with new kids, where they’ll make new memories. That house also had a porch. I find myself aching for a home I can’t go back to.

Zack reaches for my hand as he looks back. “You ready?”

I nod, and he swings open the door to his childhood home.

A wave of comfort hits me, the air slightly cooler than outside, with wafts of butter, parmesan cheese, and garlic. My mouth waters at whatever is being cooked for dinner. I don’t have any dietary restrictions, and if Zack is excited to eat here, it must be good.

“Mom, we’re here!” We take our shoes off at the door and then round the corner from the hallway into the kitchen .

Zack’s mom squeals as soon as she sees us. She’s wearing a classic white linen shirt with dark jeans as she stirs something over the stove.

“Zack! Emilie!” She comes over and hugs us both at the same time, her head in between ours.

“Let me see you,” she says, stepping back and literally taking me in from top to bottom. “Ah, it’s so good to finally meet you. Zack is always gabbing about you. Now I know why.”

It's hard not to blush. Zack is always gabbing about you. Was that before or after the fake dating turned into whatever the hell this is? A speck of nervousness flutters in my chest.

Her eyes are blue, like the water you dream of when you’re going on vacation. Her hair is almost the same color as Zack’s; a dark blonde, one that people try to re-create at the salon but can never get right. She’s stunning, just like I thought she’d be.

“I’m Mackenzie, you can call me Mack.” She rests her hand on my shoulder before walking back to the stove, moving whatever’s in the pan with a wooden spoon. “Grab a seat, dinner’s in probably twenty. I made a pitcher of Aperol Spritz for dinner. I remember Zack telling us how that’s your go-to, and I thought to myself, when’s the last time I had one of those?”

I'm going to melt from the sweetness.

“Zack, check the pantry. Got something for you.”

He yells, “Hell yeah!” from what I'm guessing is the pantry and walks out with a massive box of Pop Rocks.

“You’re the best.” He kisses his mom on the cheek before bringing his ginormous box of candy to the bar, setting it down.

I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I feel like I'm missing something.”

“We used to bribe Zack with Pop Rocks to go to football practice when he first started playing. If I’m remembering correctly, it might’ve been flag football. Then it just turned into something we kept doing— ”

“We should’ve invested in that company. Bought some stock or something.” A man walks in from the outside. He must be Zack’s dad.

“I’m Chris. It's great to finally meet you.” He puts his hand out for a hand shake, which I take him up on. “Somehow, we’re still buying our NFL-playing son his favorite candy in bulk—at least, whenever we see it.”

“Thank you for having me for dinner.”

“Oh, it’s not a problem. We’ve been excited ever since it’s been on the calendar,” he says before going to stand behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her from behind. He kisses her cheek, and it’s like I can hear her smiling from here.

I’m a firm believer that my parents don’t love each other. They may have at one point, but it feels very past tense for as long as I can remember. They respected each other enough to maintain a marriage, but there was never kissing, affection, or walking in on them doing something intimate—thank god. Seeing Zack’s parents like this has my cheeks aching from smiling. It’s lovely.

For a second, I think about what it’d be like growing up in a home like this.

“Your favorite daughter is here!” someone calls as the door shuts. She walks into the kitchen and claps her hands when she sees me. “You came! You’re real!” she squeals before hugging me.

“This is Riley. My sister. My only sister,” Zack laughs, while popping an olive in his mouth from the carefully constructed charcuterie board sitting on the bar.

Riley is gorgeous. This family has the good genetics or something because wow— even Chris is what you’d call a daddy. The man is a silver fox and ridiculously hot. I wonder if he was blonde like Zack when he was younger ?

After greeting the rest of the family, Riley sits next to me and pours us each an Aperol Spritz.

“Okay, I want to know everything. Tell me all your secrets.” She bumps my shoulder and lifts her glass up to me.

“And that’s my cue. I'm going to help Dad outside.” Zack gives me a few seconds to object, but when I don’t, he opens the glass door and walks to the patio. He looks back for the quickest of seconds, and the whole things feels oddly familiar.

Riley takes a sip of her drink, her golden-brown eyes looking at me over her short glass, and says, “You don’t really have to tell me your secrets, unless you want to, but tell me about Michigan.”

It’s not that I have a difficult time meeting new people, but sometimes it’s like I’m trying to figure out the vibe. What version of myself best fits? What shouldn’t I do? Is there anything I should avoid or hold back?

But right now, in this kitchen, it feels like I can just be Emilie.

And it feels so good.