Emma That is Dead (FREE!)

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Don't we always?" Mey flips her dark hair over her shoulder and studies me, her scrutiny intensifying. "Do you think if we invited Emma, she'd come?"

I let out a loud snort. "I seriously doubt it."

Mey opens her mouth, shakes her head, an invitation for me to go on.

And there's so much I want to say, but it's not the time. I need to hold onto my suspicions and see what else I can find I out. So, I settle on the truth for a change. "I told her about me and Smith."

Just as expected, Mey freaks. Her eyebrows disappear beneath her bangs and her jaw drops. "Was she upset?"

"You can say that. I don't think she's talking to me."

"Oh no." Her face blanches. "Maybe I don't want details. I'm not sure my heart can take it," she says, grasping her chest.

She stares off into the field but I doubt she's watching the game. Her wheels are spinning, trying to process what this means. How the situation will impact our otherwise tight-nit group of friends. Besides Emma's disappearance, nothing's ever jarred us before.

"You're not still worried about Smith, are you?" she finally asks.

I shake my head. "It's not that." There's something much bigger going on inside my head.

"Because I can talk to him if you want me to."

My eyes about jump out of my head. "Absolutely not! I was overreacting the other day. Stupid PMS. I'm good—cross my heart. Let's just forget about it, okay?" I draw an invisible cross over my chest, hoping to drive my point home.

Mey doesn't look convinced, but she drops the subject.

The crowd grows restless as they count down the seconds with the scoreboard. When the buzzer alarms, its roar thundering through the stadium, a collective cheer rises from our side of the field.

"We won!" Mey's arms fly around my neck as she screeches in my ear, our conversation temporarily forgotten. She pulls away and gestures toward the field. "And would you look at the ass on number 33? I love you, Kobe Newman!" she screams, as though he can hear her.

I continue to scour the throng of football fans as we overrun the field, Mey's arm hooked around my own, pulling me along, but I don't see Jordan anywhere.

"You made it!" When Smith sees me, he grins and holds his arms wide open. I slump into them, and press my head to his chest. "I'm glad you're here," he whispers into my ear. Even with everyone around, the caress of his breath across the sensitive stretch of skin sends a current of electricity along my limbs. They tingle and twitch, and I'm grateful he's holding me up so I don't have to.

"Good game, my man." Lance gives Kobe an enthusiastic fist bump, while Mey throws herself into his arms.

"You had the cutest butt on the whole field!"

"Thank you for noticing my contributions to the game." Kobe clutches his helmet between his arm and his side. "But if you're that impressed by my backside, you should get a load of my guns."

When he strikes a pose, Mey lets out an obnoxious giggle. "Don't worry, I have!" She nuzzles her face into his neck.

Lance's lips fold into a frown. "Can you guys be disgusting later? I haven't eaten since lunch."

"I'm gonna grab a quick shower first," Kobe says, releasing his hold on Mey.

"We'll grab a table and you guys can meet us there," Smith suggests. He hooks his arm around my shoulders as we trail behind the crowd toward the parking lot. "Do you want to leave your cars here?"