Not in the Script (32 page)

The moment I see Emma wearing a fake smile, I'm convinced that Kimmi told her about Miss Texas. I should've flat-out said no when that chick's pageant director called Liz to ask if I would “escort the lovely girl” I met on the plane to a state luncheon with the governor of Texas. But the call had come too soon after I'd asked Emma to go on a real date, and she'd acted like she was only doing me a favor. So I'd told Liz, “Sure, why not? It's just a luncheon.”

Pride is a beast. I've stooped to an all-time low by trying to prod Emma forward with jealousy, and now I'm freaking out, knowing I can't wait any longer to admit it.

I'm ten minutes late picking Emma up for our date. Trying to ease my previous demands, I go to her back porch, rather than marching through her front door like I'd wanted to, and we walk down the running path toward my place. Emma seems a world away—not mad, exactly, just … distant.

When we turn the corner of my building, she pulls me back and points to the parking lot. “Yeah, I know,” I tell her. “It's Brett's truck. I borrowed it.”

“Why?”

“You'll see,” I say, and lead her to the passenger side.

As soon as I sit in the driver's seat, Emma tells me, “Just a little FYI: Kimmi has figured things out about us—she told me so—and she thinks Brett is suspicious too.”

I start the engine. “And you said … ?”

There's total silence, then, “I didn't really deny anything. I just kept her guessing.”

Emma waits for my reply, but when I only back out of the parking space, she adds, “As a matter of curiosity, what reason did you give Brett for borrowing his truck?”

“I told him I had to pick up some new furniture,” I say. I hadn't planned on borrowing it, but when I saw that Brett drove it to work, a particular vision of how I could make this date just a bit better popped into my head, so I'd asked if we could switch cars for the night. “He didn't question me at all.”

I half hoped he would.

Emma nods. “Kimmi has to be wrong about Brett, though. If he knew about us, he'd come right out and say it like she did. He doesn't have a single thought pass through his head that he doesn't tell the whole world about.”

Don't act possessive. Play it cool
.

“Maybe he's waiting to see how serious we are,” I say. “To figure out if we're actually dating … or just flirting.” I shoot a sideways glance at Emma. “He's not the only one who's wondering that, you know. And I'm not talking about Kimmi.”

Emma trails the tip of her finger down my arm. “I haven't even
started
flirting with you.”

Okay, I'm smiling now. “Maybe you should give it a try. Just to see if I like it.”

The farther we get from the city, the more relaxed things feel. And since Emma doesn't bring up Miss Texas, I decide not to ruin our date by announcing how immature I am. But I'll still have to tell her about my attempt to make her jealous
before
the luncheon on Monday.

It takes half an hour to travel up Mount Lemmon and find a campground that has a perfect view of the sky. I grab a bundle of firewood and other necessities from the truck, and we sit on a log next to a fire pit for an hour or so, roasting marshmallows and eating smores.

“My dad used to take me camping,” Emma says, then hurries to blow out the flames on her marshmallow before it turns to ash. “It was my favorite thing to do as a kid.”

“Sorry to get your hopes up,” I reply, “but I didn't bring a tent.”

Emma kicks my giant hiking boot with her pixie-size sneaker. “Then what's under the tarp in the truck, huh? A UFO? Nuclear missiles?”

I steal the marshmallow off her stick and toss it into my mouth before she can stop me. “You watch too much television.”

“I'm
in
too much television. It's obviously warped my mind.”

“That's for sure.” I wrap an arm around her and give her a quick kiss on the crown of her head. Then I freeze, stunned by what I'd just done without thinking about it. Emma holds as still as I do. “We, uh, better hurry and put this fire out,” I say, standing. “There's a meteor shower tonight, and we have front-row seats.”

Emma stays on the log and looks up at me, the light of a thousand stars reflected in her eyes. “So
that's
why we're in the middle of nowhere?” she asks. “I thought we were just hiding from the army of reporters who are in town for the junket.”

“That's only a bonus.” I kick dirt on the fire, a little nervous now. “The higher our elevation, the better we can see the meteor shower. And Arizona is one of the best spots on earth to watch one.”

I'm relieved when I glance up from the embers to find her smiling. “How convenient,” Emma replies, and she offers a hand so I can help her off the log.

When we reach the truck, I pull off the tarp and reveal the giant beanbag chair that I brought along. The second I saw Brett's truck at work today, my imagination had easily replaced my previous vision of Emma and I watching the meteor shower from the separate bucket seats in my convertible to getting a heck of a lot closer in
this
.

Emma laughs and shakes her head at me. “If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, Jake Elliott, you might leave disappointed.”

I lift Emma into the back of the truck and climb in behind her. “Did you say
might
?”

“Same rules, remember?” she says, and pushes me onto the chair. I sink into the foam and pull her next to me. She laughs. “Don't you have
two
of these?”

“I can't remember. Do I?”

I stretch my arm around her back, and Emma rests her head on my shoulder. For several minutes we watch streaks of light soar across the sky and fade into darkness. Meteor showers are common in Arizona, but it's been a long time since I took the time to
watch one. The sky is perfectly clear tonight, the air fresh and crisp, and about twenty degrees cooler than in the city.

I try to focus on this, instead of the heat that I'm
actually
feeling.

Same rules, same rules
, I remind myself, but Emma doesn't help my self-control one bit when she rolls to her side and inches her hand over my chest. “Your heart is pounding like there's a boxing match inside it,” she tells me.

“Uh … yeah. Pretty much,” is all I say.

The longer we lie there, almost motionless, the more restless I feel. In the silence of the night, I swear I can hear her heart racing too, and I'm dying to know what she's thinking.

Emma bolts straight up. “Shoot. I forgot to call Rachel.”

What? She was thinking about
Rachel
?

I don't want to make an issue out of it, so I just lace my hands behind my head and wait while Emma takes her cell from her back pocket and makes the call.

“Hey, sorry to just leave a message,” she tells Rachel. “I know you'll be off work soon, but I wanted to let you know as soon as possible that our casting director approved you as a featured extra! The scene shoots on Monday after the premiere, though, when you're supposed to return home, so we'll have to rearrange some things. But that's awesome, right? Bye!”

Emma tosses her phone to the side and settles beside me again. But this time she's flat on her back, with only our arms touching. “So, where were we?” she says. “Oh yeah. Falling stars. Look! There's another one!”

I clear my throat. “Uh … tell me again: why don't we just set Rachel up with Devin?”

Emma props up on an elbow, her expression more serious than I'd expected. “Because Devin isn't the one who's taped to her wall,” she replies. “But I'm telling Rachel about us before she goes home next week. I promise.”

I nod. What else can I do? Except for … maybe this.

“Blame it on me, okay?” I dare to touch her cheek, trail my fingers slowly over her soft skin, and through her hair. “Tell Rachel I couldn't help falling for you, no matter how hard you tried to push me away. That I can't imagine being with anyone else, ever again.” I pause for a breath. “And that you turn me
inside out
every time I even think about you.”

Emma just stares at me for a sec, her timid smile not quite matching the intensity of her eyes. Then she plants both hands on my chest and leans closer.
Much
closer. “Don't move,” she says. “I need to get something out of my system.”

Her mouth goes straight for my neck, shooting a million watts of electricity through me. Her lips move down to my collarbone, up to my ear, and set fire to everywhere in between. But she avoids me when I can't hold back any longer and turn toward her.

“Just watch the stars,” she whispers.

“I can't. My eyes are in the back of my head.”

She laughs but keeps at it, slow and deliberate now and driving me
insane
. I'd expected heat, but this is a freaking inferno, and there's no way that I can—

“Okay, I better stop,” Emma says, scooting completely out of reach.

What?
“We didn't even—”

“I know.” Emma gets a better look at my eyes, which are no doubt both wild and confused. “But we can't yet, remember?”

“Then what was
that
?”

“Oh … well …” She covers her face with her hands. “I just … like I said, wanted to get that out of my system.”

“Then, wow. Glad I could help.” I sit straight up. “Call me crazy, but I sorta took that as a sign that something had changed and you wanted to kiss me.”

“I do! But I'll feel too guilty about it if I don't tell Rachel about us first, and—”

“And
what
? Ask for her permission?” A bomb explodes inside me. “Why is everyone else's happiness more important than your own? Or mine, for that matter? You're making me feel like a lapdog.
Sit, Jake. Stay, Jake
. But I'm stopping at
beg
, okay?”

I've really got her attention now. “You said you were all right with this,” she replies.

“To a point, Emma, but this is crazy. You shifted out of ‘snail mode' when you pulled that trick a few minutes ago, and it isn't exactly easy for me to hit the brakes in the middle of a freeway.”

“Then I guess this is where Miss Texas comes in,” Emma snaps. “Did you just look at a map and say, ‘Hmm, everything is big in Texas, I think I'll start there?' ”

“Why
shouldn't
I date?” I shoot back. “At this point I'll settle for anyone who's willing to admit that she's going out with me.”

Emma grabs the front of my shirt by one hand, and then the other. “All right then, I'm dating you,” she says. “Feel better now?”

“No!” I begin, but then I see her tears and the rest gets stuck in my throat.

Emma's hands slowly lose strength and let go. “What more can I do, Jake?” she says. “I've gone against every rule I made for myself by getting this close to you, all the while knowing that when
this ends, it will hurt
so
much more than ever before. Not only will the tabloids torture me for months to come, but every day when I see you at work—year after year—I'll feel the pain of it all over again.” She darts to the tailgate, jumps off, and keeps moving. “So if you can't understand why I'm finding every excuse I can to drag my feet, then you'll have better luck with Miss Texas. Her website says she's determined to end human suffering.”

“I don't want …
her
.” It comes out so quietly that I doubt Emma can hear me over the tears she's trying to choke back.

She reaches the passenger door, but just before she opens it, she stops and stands still. I already regret most of what I've said, so I don't trust myself to keep talking. Instead, I lean over and just rest my hand on the side of the truck bed. Then I wait.

At least a full minute passes before Emma even glances at me. I can tell she has something important to say, but what?

Is this the beginning or the end?