EMERY POV
"Do I have a generic face?"
He said it to me directly.
Of course not, it's actually you.
"Don't!"
My scream came out at the exact moment his hand reached for the pictures.
People turned to look at us because of how loud I'd been.
He picked them up anyway, like my throat wasn't burning from trying to stop him.
Sweat was sliding down from my chest to my navel, soaking through everything I had on.
I grabbed the hem of my cardigan to keep myself from collapsing.
He squinted at the picture, examining it.
"You..." his voice trailed off. "Are you a stalker?" He asked it with his nose flaring, like he found the whole thing amusing.
Dammit, this was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid.
That was when my legs finally decided they could move again.
I lunged forward, yanked the pictures out of his hand, and bolted for the door.
Who the hell could have predicted I'd act like a complete lunatic the first time I actually interacted with my crush?
I bit down hard on my lip as I ran, but I didn't stop. I couldn't even look back.
"Shit!" My foot caught on the edge of the pavement. Thank god I was wearing boots.
I didn't stop though. I kept dragging myself forward until I was completely out of his sight, away from that burning gaze I could feel on my back.
I finally let myself breathe when I reached a nearby coffee stand and dropped into a seat. I slumped over, staring down at the pictures in my hands.
I should have just stayed and tried to explain things. Now I looked like a complete fool. Worse than that, maybe actually like a stalker.
He'd really thought that. And part of me had to admit he wasn't totally wrong. I knew almost all of his routine. Wasn't that basically stalking?
God, he still had one of the pictures. I'd left behind the one I took without him knowing.
And my book? Jesus, my book.
I pulled my phone out of my cardigan pocket, fingers shaking. Why couldn't I have just fallen on my face instead, you idiot?
I opened the school group chat to see if my name had popped up anywhere, if someone had snapped a picture of us without me realizing.
Thank god, there was nothing.
And the book. He still had my book. The one with all my annotations and dog-eared pages. What if he actually read it?
I pressed my palms against my eyes. Maybe I could just transfer schools. Change my name. Flee the country.
That was when my mom's message came through.
*”Emery darling, the family dinner is tomorrow. I'll pick you up.”*
Right. My new family.
I didn't blame her, really. Who would want to stay stuck with a boring daughter and a struggling life like hers forever? Of course she'd decide to remarry.
I still had the teddy bear my dad gave me last summer. If I'd known he was going to die the next day, maybe I would have held on to him a little longer. Maybe I could have changed everything somehow.
I was pissed at first when my mom told me she was getting remarried, but when I tried to see it from her side, I realized that maybe, just maybe, I wanted to see her smile again too.
I dragged myself up, brushing off all the dust that had collected on my butt. My small, round butt, technically.
I had a pretty good ass, actually.
But what good did it do me when boys never looked my way anyway?
So here I was with a dead dad, a heartbroken mom, and my crush finding out I was obsessed with him and read erotic books.
What was he ever going to think of me now?
I waited until late evening before heading back to my dorm. When I got there, my roommate was already tucked into bed, probably out for the night.
I looked around the room one more time, then picked up my phone to text my mom.
I'm free for the next few days. Can you still pick me up today?
The reply came fast.
*”Of course darling, momma is on her way.”*
Yeah, I did what I always did. Ran away from my problems. Even though I was always the one creating them for myself in the first place.
I threw some things into my backpack and headed down to the parking lot, leaving a note on my roommate's pillow. *Heading home.*
Mom picked me up within the hour. I spent the drive staring out the window, trying not to think about Zayn still having that picture. And my book.
Rain started pouring, hitting the windshield. I placed my hand to the window, feeling the coldness in my palm.
"Richard's kid is your age," Mom said brightly. "It'll be nice having a sibling."
I just nodded and prayed that tomorrow's dinner would get canceled. Maybe a minor earthquake. Nothing devastating, just enough.
Home wasn't exactly fun, but it served its purpose. All I needed was to get away from his eyes.
Then the family gathering actually arrived, and I was standing in front of the mirror wearing a hoodie and baggy jeans.
"Don't tell me you're planning to wear this." My mom stood in the doorway, scowling as she emphasized the word “this.”
I looked down at my outfit again. Nothing was wrong with it, right?
"Mom," I whined. "You know this is what I always wear."
She was already in my room now, and I could see a dress in her hand. I knew I was done for.
"I'm not wearing that. It's way too short." I said it after my mom had already wrestled my baggy clothes off me and shoved me into the dress.
"You look chic. I knew my daughter didn't come out of my womb looking boring. You just turned yourself into that." She wouldn't stop fussing with me, smoothing and examining and straightening my hair.
Oh god, her hands were everywhere.
"I'm not doing this."
"I'll get you unlimited access to the university's restricted archive. The rare first editions section." She winked. "Any book you want."
The restricted section. I'd been trying to get in there for months. I could disappear into those stacks and hide from my own life for days.
The floral dress wasn't that bad, actually. I smiled at how easy I was to bribe.
"You can't walk around looking like you just rolled out of bed." She said it as she left my room.
I rolled my eyes. What did that even mean?
When I was ready, I headed downstairs. I could already hear voices, so I took the steps slowly, gripping the railing.
"Thank you, Mrs. Diane."
Wait. I'd been so deep in my fantasy world that I could have sworn I was hearing the male lead's voice in real life.
"You're welcome, Zayn. Your sister is almost ready." That was my mother.
Zayn?
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I saw his face. It was really him.
Zayn Blackwood.
There was an older man beside him, and the resemblance between them was impossible to miss.
Then it hit me. No, it didn't just hit me. It crashed into me like I'd been stabbed.
My breathing went ragged. I didn't even realize my legs were shaking until I missed a step.
"Careful," Mr. Blackwood said, reaching out to steady me.
What was my mother thinking? Richard Blackwood owned the biggest sports company in Houston.
How did they even meet?
Okay, that was the least of my problems right now.
Zayn was about to become my stepbrother.
My crush. The only guy who now knew what the girl behind these freckles did with her brain in her spare time.
I managed to get down the rest of the stairs, and when I finally reached them, there was a huge smirk plastered across Zayn's face.
"We meet again, dear stepsister."
God, that was so cringe.
Right there, I made a mental note. This marriage was not going to work.
