Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) by Leigh Ann Lunsford Page A

silently shoos us out of the house.
    “Geez, she’s crazy with pictures.”
    “Just wait until prom, Ems.”
    “William Jacobs, are you asking me to prom?”
    “Emma Nichols, I’d ask you to the moon if it meant I could be with you.”
    “It’d be horrible for my hair. Humidity is a bitch.” She smirks at me, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
    “Well?”
    “What?”
    “Are you going to answer me?”
    “I wasn’t aware you asked a question.”
    “Will you go to prom with me?” I grin at her silly game. Word play, semantics, she just likes to push the limits.
    “I’ll get back to you.” She tosses her sass over her shoulder as she reaches my truck. I lock the door with the remote and grab her from behind, curling my fingers into her waist but not putting pressure. She begins to squirm. “Don’t do it. You’ll mess up my hair and dress.”
    “Won’t bother me any.” I apply the slightest pressure, and she doubles over. “Tell me you’ll go to prom with me.” Her silence is met with another squeeze.
    “Okay, okay. I give. You win. But I draw the line at the moon.”
    I kiss the back of her neck. “Anywhere I go, you go. Hair and humidity be damned.”
    “Neanderthal.”
    “Yours.”
    “All mine.” She turns in my arms and kisses me but won’t let me deepen it. I dig my fingers in just enough to get her attention, but it won’t induce the hysterics she is prone to with tickling. It captures her attention enough she opens her damn saucy mouth. I take advantage and slip my tongue past her lips, and she becomes compliant in my arms. I pull my lips away from her mouth, trying to not get carried away. Unlocking the door, I hoist her body up and wait for her to buckle up. “Mauve isn’t your color.” She grins wiping my lips.
    “Every color you wear is my color.”
    “Arrogant.”
    “Beautiful.”
    “Okay, charmer, let’s go. The bullshit is getting deep.” I chuckle at her, hurry around the front of the truck, and climb in. She immediately begins fiddling with the radio, and I let it go. We have the same taste unless it’s her twangy country . . . I draw the line there.
    The drive to the school is short, and I pull up in front of the gym decorated with our school colors, posters cheering us, and people standing outside waiting for friends to arrive. The game is tomorrow night, so the entire football team has a curfew of midnight, which I’m thankful for. Otherwise, the guys would want to go out and cause trouble, and I just want some time with Emma. Homecoming court was announced earlier, and I sighed in relief when I was beat for King because there wasn’t anyone I was going to dance with, pose with, or pay attention to other than her tonight.
    I pull her in and make my way through the doors of the cafeteria where the tables have disappeared and in their wake is a pseudo-romantic/team spirit theme. Girls timidly stand next to their dates, those who came alone stand in the corners taking it all in. Emma didn’t come last year, she and Holly were little fish in a big pond, choosing to thumb their nose at tradition as they binged on junk food and chick flicks, but she kept a running commentary via text messages with me all night. Emma won’t admit it, but I think the fear of coming when we weren’t together scared her off; she didn’t want to see me with anyone else, and that isn’t something I would have subjected her to. I made my mandatory appearance, chatted a bit, then snuck off to our place until my curfew. One day I’ll make her realize it’s always been her.
    My crew is next to the door I’m sure, mocking those who don’t meet their standards. I clap hands with a few of them as we walk past but steer her towards the opposite side, praying no one stops us. Holly and her date see us approach, and she and Ems squeal in delight. I know this is their big debut at a high school event, being a sophomore they have two more years of this. Holly recently started dating this guy, his