All of a sudden, Emma found herself lying flat on her back with a major headache and absolutely no recollection of how she'd gotten there. When she tried to think back to what had happened, she just saw splotches of black and white.
Carefully, she touched her forehead and winced when her fingers found the tender spot. She could feel a small lump forming. Come tomorrow, she was probably going to look like a unicorn. Great, just what she needed. As if junior high wasn't hard enough already.
While her best friend struggled, Heidi stood there with her hands covering her mouth, but the sound of her giggles seeped through the webs of her fingers. "Are you okay, Emma?" she asked with a snort.
Emma groaned in response, which made Heidi laugh even louder.
"Oh my god!" a boy shouted. "Harry hit someone!"
Then Emma heard the sound of heavy feet trampling the ground. They were heading her way, all five of them! Emma had to come up with a brilliant plan, and quick!
She looked over at Heidi and frantically motioned for her to leave. "Go! Go! You can't be here!"
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"Go to the playground. Go somewhere. You can't be here!"
"But ... But ... Ugh, fine! You owe me for this!"
Reluctantly, Heidi ran and hid behind the bushes, where she would remain until the coast was clear, or until the squatting position became too unbearable for her thighs.
She shoved her face between the itchy, smelly leaves and watched as the group of teenage boys approached Emma with worried looks. Most of them were concerned for Emma, but Louis was more worried about his soccer ball, which had somehow disappeared after bouncing off the poor girl's forehead. He kept checking the area while the rest of the boys hovered over Emma, but he couldn't find it anywhere.
"Hey!" Niall exclaimed as a huge grin overtook his face. "It's the Keeper of the Chips!"
"Her name's Emma," Liam corrected, which only added to Louis and Zayn's confusion. The pair of them just stood there exchanging confused glances and wondering how their friends knew this unlucky girl.
Harry knelt down beside her. "I'm so sorry," he said, his green eyes writhing with guilt. "I don't even know how that happened. It just got away from me."
"It's okay," Emma replied, trying not to sound too happy about the situation. But how could she complain with Harry kneeling so close to her? This was exactly what she wanted! Of course, if given the choice she would've preferred to have captured his attention in a more graceful manner, one that didn't leave her head throbbing in pain. Beggars can't be choosers, though, right?
"Is your head okay?" Harry asked as he placed his hand on the side of Emma's head. While he spoke, his thumb gently massaged her temple. "Is your vision blurry at all?"
Emma felt the heat creep up her cheeks. "Uh, no. It's perfect, actually." You're perfect, she nearly said.
Then, without warning or invitation, Louis suddenly crouched down beside Harry and set his eyes upon the girl. "Emma, is it? Look, I'm really sorry that Harry hit you in the head and all. He's quite a clumsy idiot, isn't he? But before you went down, you didn't happen to see where that soccer ball went, did you?"
"Not now, Louis," Harry said, giving him a light shove.
"What? I'm just saying ... It's my favorite ball, and I'd really like to get it back."
As Louis spoke, Heidi glanced behind her and saw his cherished soccer ball lying in the grass. She knew it was only a matter of time before he came over to look for it, so she quickly snatched the ball and chucked it back over the bushes.
Harry flinched when the ball suddenly landed beside him. "What the ...?" He looked toward the bushes then and saw them rustling with life. "Is there someone with you?" he asked Emma as he continued to stare at the trembling bush.
"Nope," Emma quickly answered. "Just me."
"Hmm."
Shrugging it off, Harry turned his attention back to Emma and smiled. "Can you sit up?" he asked, and then he carefully helped her rise to a sitting position. When he noticed all the dirt and grass stuck to the back of her shirt, he brushed away the debris with his hands. "I'm really sorry, Emma. Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Emma started to say, but then she caught herself and realized she was making a huge mistake. If she said she was completely all right, then Harry would leave. He would go back to playing with his friends and forget about Emma entirely. She couldn't let that happen, not yet anyway. She needed more time to make a good, lasting impression.
"It's just," Emma went on, drawing out her words for effect, "my ankle hurts a little. I think I may have rolled it when I fell."
"Oh? Lemme see. Is it the right one?"
Before Emma was ready for it, she felt Harry's soft hands on her bare leg, starting at her calf and then slowly working their way down to her ankle. His fingertips grazed across her flesh ever so gently, making Emma's heart race. It was a harmless gesture, really, but in Emma's hormonal teen mind, it was more erotic than the scenes in all those adult films she wasn't supposed to be watching.
A quiet moan escaped her lips.
"Oh, did I hit a tender spot?" Harry asked, looking up at Emma with perfectly innocent eyes. If only he knew the sexual torture he was putting her through.
"Yeah," Emma said, trying to compose herself. "Very tender."
He frowned. "You know, it doesn't look swollen ... Can you stand?"
After standing up himself, Harry offered Emma his hands as support. Slowly and awkwardly, she staggered to her feet and then collapsed against his chest. She stole a moment to breathe in his scent. Even his sweat smelled amazing.
"That was pretty good," he said. "Think you can walk?"
"I can try."
"Okay, we'll take it slow." Then he turned toward his friends and said, "You guys go ahead without me. I'm gonna stay with her for a while."
Emma had to bite her lip to keep from grinning. Mission accomplished!
Louis came forward and picked up his soccer ball. "Works for me. You were dragging our team down anyway. Come on, guys, let's get back to the game. I'll take you both on single-handedly."
While his friends returned to the field, Harry helped Emma along as she limped up the dirt trail that snaked through the entire park. She didn't really know how to do a convincing limp. Honestly, she felt a bit like a pirate with a peg leg, but if it kept Harry by her side, it was well worth the discomfort.
"You sure you can manage like that?" Harry asked after a while.
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Slow and steady wins the race, right?"
"That's true, ... but, you know, I could carry you if you want."
Emma's eyes widened. "Carry me?"
"Yeah, sure." He stepped in front of her then and crouched low enough for Emma to climb onto his back. "Giddy up."
Oh my god, Emma thought as she stared at his back, Harry Styles is offering me a piggyback ride. This is really happening.
"Is there a problem?" he asked when Emma failed to move.
"I suddenly feel very fat," she said without thinking.
Harry busted out laughing. "You? Fat? Now that's just ridiculous. Look, if I can carry Niall, I can carry you no problem, trust me."
"You're sure?"
"Positive. Now, hop on."
Hesitantly, Emma climbed onto Harry's back, allowing him to take all her weight upon himself. As soon as Harry stood up again, he let out an agonizing moan and said, "Maybe I was wrong!"
Emma blushed and slapped him with a light hand. "Shut up!"
"Ha! I'm just joking," he said, flashing a playful grin. "You're light as a feather, actually. Probably one of the lightest passengers I've ever had."
"Oh, so you've had many then. What, do you go around giving strangers piggyback rides or something?"
"Yeah, it's a little side business I've got going. Gotta pay for college somehow, right? And I'm pretty expensive too. You could never afford me. But since you're injured, I'm giving you a freebie."
Emma rolled her eyes. "How generous of you."
"Well, I figured it's the least I could do after hitting you in the face."
After five minutes of walking, Harry and Emma came upon the large duck pond in the middle of the park. It was a quiet place, peaceful and completely devoid of teenagers, who deemed the locale rather dull and boring. Old people hung out at the pond. Families with small children hung out at the pond. Not cool, hip teenagers.
Since Harry was so cool and hip, Emma assumed he would walk right past it. Imagine her surprise when he said he wanted to sit down and watch the ducks swim around.
"This is honestly my favorite spot in the park," Harry confessed as he gazed about with a huge smile on his face, like he was reliving his most precious memories. "It's a great place for picnics or just sitting around. For a while, you can get away from all the noise and the distractions and just be with nature. It's nice. And in the winter, when the pond freezes, it's a great place to go ice skating. Ever been?"
"No, I've never ice skated before. I don't think I'd be very good at it."
"Well, you never know until you try. And you should definitely try it at least once. Maybe even twice because your first time you'll probably be falling all over the place and you won't have any fun at all. But by the second time you should be a pro."
"Well, maybe I will then."
"Good."
With a quiet sigh, Emma sat back and started drumming her fingers against the wooden bench seat. "So, have you always lived in Evenwood?"
He shook his head. "I was born in England, actually, in a town called Redditch, in Worcestershire, which I'm sure you've never heard of."
Emma shrugged. "I've heard of Worcestershire sauce."
"Close enough," he went on with a chuckle. "Anyway, we moved to New York when I was five. Then when I was seven my parents divorced, so I moved out here with my mother and my sister. And I've been here ever since. What about you? Have you always lived in Evenwood?"
Emma smiled. "So far!"
Harry nodded, his eyes narrow as if he was pondering something important. "Can I ask you a question?" he eventually asked.
"Uhh ... I can't tell until you ask."
And then he asked the question she was dreading the most:
"How old are you?"
Just like that, Emma was faced with the most important decision of her teenage life. If she told Harry that she was thirteen, he would see her as nothing more than a child. All hopes she had of dating him would go up in flames. Poof! Nothing but ash!
But could she really lie? Was she that kind of person?
Today, she was.
"I'm sixteen," Emma answered as confidently as she could.
Harry nodded. "Then how come I haven't seen you around school?"
The next lie came easier: "I go to Saint Margaret's in Brownsburg. Us Catholic kids, we tend to keep to ourselves."
"That's a real shame," he said, his lips curling into a flirtatious smile. And that's when Emma realized just how close he was sitting. They were side by side, practically hip to hip. And all the while he just kept smiling and staring at her with those beautiful green eyes.
"Uhh, what time is it?" Emma abruptly asked.
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and snuck a quick glance at the screen. "Almost three."
"Oh, I have to go," Emma said as she climbed to her feet. How she wished she could have stayed just a little bit longer. "Thanks for hanging out with me, Harry. I had fun."
"Yeah, me too. I'll see you around, Emma, and hopefully under better circumstances."
"Yeah, hopefully."
Bursting with excitement, Emma took off in a brisk jog toward the western parking lot, where her mother would be picking her up. She made it only a few feet before Harry stopped her with a booming, "Hey!"
When she turned around, she saw him staring quizzically at her injured ankle. The jig was up.
Emma grinned sheepishly. "Oh, it's better now, my ankle."
"Right," Harry doubtfully replied, but then he just laughed it off. "Bye, Emma."
"Bye, Harry," Emma said, and then she gleefully continued on her way.
Upon reaching the playground, Emma found Heidi sitting alone on the swings. The skin on her arms was bright red, and she kept itching at it like a dog with fleas.
"What happened to you?" Emma asked.
"I dunno," Heidi said as she scraped her pink fingernails across her flesh. "God, my skin is on fire! I hope all this was worth it, Emma, because I'm never doing this again."
"It was totally worth it!" Emma cried as she bounced up and down with delight. "See, I told him my ankle was hurt, so he left all his friends to help me. And then he gave me a piggyback ride and we sat by the pond and watched the duckies swim. And then I told him I'm sixteen, and now I really think I have a shot!"
"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Back up a second. You told him you're sixteen? Sixteen? Emma you can't pass for sixteen. Hell, you can barely pass for thirteen. I mean, you still wear shirts with cartoon characters on them."
"That's Hello Kitty, and she's a cultural icon."
"Okay, you just made my point for me. Look, you're not ready to date a high school boy. They're not like boys our age. They're like men, only younger. You need someone more your speed. You need someone like ... Michael?"
Emma's face scrunched up like she'd just sucked on a lemon. "Michael? You think I should date Michael?"
"What? No! The little smurf's coming this way."
Sure enough, Michael Clifford had actually gotten out of bed on a Sunday in order to come to the park. He must've just gotten out of bed because his hair was a complete mess. Dressed in an over-sized band t-shirt and a pair of skinny jeans, he sluggishly made his way toward the two girls.
"There you are," he said upon reaching them. "I've been looking everywhere for you. And what the hell happened to your forehead? It looks like you're sprouting a horn."
Emma slapped her hand over her forehead. "Nothing! I hit my head is all. What are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "You asked me to come, so I'm here."
"Michael, that was over three hours ago. I'm leaving now. My mom's gonna be here to pick me up any minute."
His jaw dropped. "What? You mean I walked all this way for nothing? God dammit!"
"You walked here? That's like twenty blocks."
"Yeah, I know that now." With a huff, he shoved his hands in his pockets and started kicking the grass. "Well, what am I supposed to do now? I'm not walking back home after coming all this way."
"You wanna come to my house?" Emma asked.
"Eh, your house is boring. There's nothing to do, and the only video games your parents buy are those lame educational ones that teach you math and shit."
"Hey, those games are fun!" Emma defended. "Besides, you're grounded anyway."
"Don't remind me," he grumbled.
"Look, you can come over if you want. We're having pizza tonight, and I'm sure my mom will let you stay for dinner."
"Pizza?" At that, Michael's eyes lit up. "Wait, what kind of pizza? Last time I stayed at your house, your mom made this nasty vegetarian flatbread. I said it then, and I'll say it now: flatbread is not pizza. That was false advertisement. If I'm having pizza, I want the cheese oozing and the pepperoni sizzling."
Even after Emma's mother had pulled up and all the kids had climbed into the car, Michael was still going on and on about his pizza preferences. He was, after all, a very dedicated pizza enthusiast. A connoisseur, one could say. He was in the middle of discussing the many differences between thin and thick crusts when Mrs. Walters politely interrupted him.
"Michael, does your mother know you're coming over?"
He clutched his chest and pretended to be offended. "Mrs. Walters, do you really think I'm that irresponsible? Of course, I told my mom."
But when Emma leaned over and asked if that was true, Michael laughed and said, "Of course not. She'll definitely be calling your house later. – Hey, can you turn on the radio, Mrs. Walters? You know what? Never mind, I got it."
—-
So Emma lied and told Harry she was sixteen. How will that work out for her? Keep reading to find out!