17
Chapter Seventeen
I pace the end of Emmett’s driveway alone in the dark, resisting the urge to look at his and Vivian’s silhouettes moving behind the windows. My mind plays tricks on me, making me swear I can see their bodies moving closer out of the corner of my eye. I shake it all away and try to keep looking anywhere but at that window.
Unlocking my phone screen, I scroll to Malcolm’s message.
Everything okay? I’m worried about you.
I remember telling my mom I’d be home soon before we left the motel. I know I should just go home like I promised, but the idea of hanging around my room having left things this way with Emmett seems like torture. With a deep breath, I type out a reply to Malcolm.
Can you come pick me up? I’m at Emmett’s.
He messages back instantly, telling me he’s on his way. I don’t know what I want to happen when he picks me up. I just know I can’t go home right now, and I can’t stay here. I feel awkward standing just outside the manor waiting for Malcolm. I’m half hoping that Emmett will see me and come out just as Malcolm is pulling up. He’ll fly into another jealous fit, but at least it would distract him from getting wrapped around Vivian’s finger.
I spiral into a fit, trying to talk myself down. Flashes of our bodies moving together in the motel bed just a little while ago flood over me. I cling to them, hoping they’ll give me the strength I need to text Malcolm back and tell him to forget it. I could still march right back into that house and buckle my emotions down so I can stay, no matter how insane it makes me.
But then I drift back to the sight of Vivian nestling herself into his arms. Him stroking her hair, telling me that I should be more sympathetic. Those moments in the motel fell away the minute he insisted on rushing to her side. I tell myself it’s good that he brought me with him without question, but then again…he didn’t stop to think about anything before racing off. I cringe to think it had less to do with wanting me with him, and more to do with him not wanting to be bothered with the inconvenience of arguing or taking me home first. It’s like he couldn’t wait to get to her.
I’m still at war with myself in my mind when Malcolm’s car pulls up. I glance back one more time, wishing I’d see Emmett barreling out of the house to stop me. But he’s not there. So, I open the door to reveal Malcolm’s smiling face waiting for me to get in. Time has run out. I couldn’t make myself go back inside to Emmett, and he never came out here for me. It feels like I have no choice but to get in this car right now.
“Hey, I’m so glad you texted me,” I tell him as I slide into the passenger’s side and buckle the seatbelt. And I mean it. This isn’t where I want to be, but it’s the best option I have at this moment.
“I figured you might need an escape,” he explains, in that same pitying tone I am beginning to hate. “Things seemed pretty intense with Emmett back in that motel.”
If he only knew how intense things got after he left—just in a completely different way. Yet somehow, we still ended up back where we started, in a jealous dance around each other, with Vivian playing him like a puppet.
“It’s fucking Vivian,” I seethe, shaking my head. “She’s trying to convince Emmett his mom is missing now, too. But it’s obviously just a trick, and he’s too hung up on her to see it.”
“Those two have a lot of history. That’s hard to compete with,” he says slowly. I clench my teeth. I don’t need to be reminded of that; I am all too aware. “He shouldn’t be leaving you to worry about this.”
The love in my heart pushes through, reminding me that while Malcolm is right, Emmett has plenty of his own to worry about right now. The internal war continues as I start to feel guilty for getting so angry while they worried about his mom. Maybe they were right. Maybe I was being selfish.
“It’s complicated,” I huff, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I fight the temptation to ask what the hell he means by that. Is he so sure that’s what this is about? That they just can’t let go of their past relationship? That’s what I think, but right now I just wish someone would tell me that I’m wrong.
“Not really,” he replies curly. “If you were mine, I’d never give you any room to doubt what we had, or worry about some other girl.”
I study his face as he stares at the road. His light hair and eyes turning shades of neon as the lights outside whiz past. No room for doubt. That is what I want. That’s what I need, but I need it with Emmett. Not Malcolm. And I can only manage to attain that kind of security for brief moments here and there, before it inevitably slips away again.
“Thanks, Malcolm,” I say with a half-smile, sinking down in my seat.
“Well, I’m happy to help you take your mind off of things.” I see his hand rise hesitantly, as if he’s about to reach over the seat for some kind of comforting touch, but he puts it back down. “Where to?” he offers instead. “Want me to take you home?”
Home. Yes, I need to go home. But right now, the only thing that word makes me think of is Emmett’s arms. Even if I could go back there, I’d be watching him hold Vivian instead of me.
“No,” I answer with certainty. “I don’t want to go back home yet. I’m too anxious.”
“How about we go back to my place then,” he suggests. “We could watch a movie until you hear from Emmett.”
The thought comforts me. He just suggested that Emmett and Vivian have some kind of unfinished business, but obviously he still thinks Emmett is coming back for me at some point in the night.
“Okay.” I nod with a sharp inhale through my nose. “We can go to your place and watch a movie.”
I’m quiet the rest of the way, hoping Malcolm stays the same. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I just want to kill time until Emmett comes to his senses and realizes the only person he should be with right now is me.
We pull up to the now-familiar mansion and follow the brick path leading behind the main house to Malcolm’s spot in the back. I hate the feeling of knowing we were doing this exact same thing earlier this evening, but then I was filled with the hope that we were about to fix everything. I thought we’d find something that would lead us to Bernadette, and this would all be over. But now there’s a hole where that hope used to be, and I am no less worried about Vivian.
“What are you in the mood for?” he asks as we file in and throw our things to the floor. He plops down on the couch and picks up the remote to begin scrolling through the selections on the screen. “Action? Comedy? Suspense?”
“No suspense, please,” I reply bitterly. “I have enough of that in my real life right now.”
“Got it. Light and funny,” he concludes. “Coming right up.”
As he’s scrolling past the shows and movies, I am surprised by how foreign it all looks. I’m behind on everything. I have no clue what’s come out recently, since I haven’t had any time to do things like this. Normal things. Sitting and relaxing with mindless entertainment. I’ve been too busy chasing Emmett around, or being chased by him and the rest of the Elites.
I watch the characters on the screen float through life, dealing with the most trivial matters. A bad day at work. Trying to find a date. The date going well and then the tricky part of falling in love. Emmett’s never even taken me on a date. Unless you could count our fucked up trip to the movies, with Trey and Vincent by our sides, trying to feel me up the whole time.
“Is this what life is like for some people?” I muse out loud.
“No, it’s a movie,” he smirks.
“No, you know what I mean.” I moan with exhaustion. “Everything in Jameson is so…heavy.”
“Maybe I should have picked a suspense thriller,” he quips. “I know you said you’ve had enough, but you might be able to relate to it more.”
“Do you ever get tired of it all?” I ask him.
“I told you.” He keeps his eyes glued straight ahead, his tone growing cold and apathetic. “I stay out of all of it. Anyway, if the Jamesons weren’t the ones in charge…things might not have been this way.”
“What do you mean?” I shoot back, sensing a new hint of jealousy.
“Nothing,” he states, not looking open to saying anything else about it.
“I can’t thank you enough for being here for me, Malcolm,” I offer. “Things with Emmett are always so fucked up, and with Lily deciding she hates me…I’ve felt so alone. It’s really meant a lot to have you around as a friend.”
I emphasize the word friend, feeling suddenly self-conscious about how this looks. I haven’t been trying to run crying to Malcolm’s shoulder every time something goes wrong with Emmett, but somehow he always seems to be conveniently planted in my path whenever the need arises.
“Well, I have to admit…I am being a little selfish in all of this,” he answers coyly, leaning back on the couch and spreading one arm out across the back in my direction. If I were sitting close to him, his arm would be along the back of my seat. But I made sure to keep a few feet between us when I sat down.