Emma

 

Emma forgot how nice it was to have someone to talk to. Will sat across from her in their usual spot at Jacques Torres. Eli, the barista still worked there and he even remembered Emma, right down to her preference for smoked sea salt, orange zest and marshmallows in her cocoa.

Sipping her favorite concoction across from Will made Emma’s heart skip a beat. His gorgeous smile was so familiar it tugged at the old ache she’d been trying to bury. And for the first time since she’d come back to New York, Emma felt like she was home.

“So,” Will said. “Is it really that bad?”

“What?”

“Your father’s new place? I just figured that’s what you were upset about.”

Emma laughed. “Actually, yeah. It’s pretty awful. I don’t even have my own room. Can you believe that?”

“Harsh. Where are you supposed to sleep?”

Emma slouched at the prospects. “I don’t know. The couch?”

“Well, my offer still stands.” Will held his hands up before she could sneer at him. “Let me clarify. My purely innocent offer still stands. My brothers haven’t been home in years and my folks are out of town as usual, so there’s plenty of empty bedrooms at my place if you get tired of the couch.”

“Thanks. I may take you up on it,” she replied, thinking of the uncomfortable-looking white slab that her father was trying to pass off as a couch. “When did you move by the way?”

Will waved his hand dismissively. “A few months ago. Sore subject.”

Emma nodded, understanding completely.

“So tell me something good,” Will said, changing the subject. “How’s school?”

Emma groaned. “Sore Subject.”

“Really? I thought you were loving it in Boston.”

That’s what Emma had told her best friend Kensie Davenport. Kensie was the only person Emma kept in contact with from her old school. And if Will knew Emma was boasting that Boston was great . . . Did that mean he was asking about her?

She rubbed her temples then took another sip of hot chocolate. Emma was never good at the mind games and social politics that went along with trying to figure out if guys were into her. She liked to be straightforward. And based on what her parents had gone through, Emma was convinced it was the best policy.

“Yeah, I don’t know why I said that. I hate Boston.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s not New York.”

“That’s it?” Will asked. “Seems cruel to hate on a city for not being New York. I mean by that logic all cities suck.” Will’s eyes twinkled like ice chips as he recited one of his favorite quotes. “You haven’t lived until you’ve died in New York,” he said with bravado.

She laughed. It was so good to be around someone who got it. New York City was the best place in the world. And not many people had experienced the city like Emma had, but Will was one of the few. Growing up in Manhattan, going to elite prep schools, having a doorman, car service and private shopping accounts at Barney’s . . . It was amazing. But all of it disappeared when Emma moved to Boston.

It wasn’t just the posh lifestyle she missed. Emma missed New York. The electric buzz that seemed to breathe life into the thriving metropolis. The eclectic melting pot of food and style. The constant movement of music and art. New York was alive. And that pulse was what Emma missed most. Well that, and her family.

For as long as she could remember, she wanted to study fashion, and New York was the mecca for that. Lately, her mother had tried to convince Emma that Boston had style too, but so far she hadn’t seen anything she liked. Especially not at her stuffy new school, Stanton Prep.

“It’s not just that Boston isn’t New York,” Emma complained. “I sorta hate my new school, too.”

“You’re going to Stanton, right?”

Emma nodded and took another sip of her cocoa trying to hide her surprise. How did Will know so much about her? He said it so casually she wondered if maybe it was something everyone knew. Rumors did circulate around her old school like wildfire. Maybe she was reading too much into Will’s knowledge.

“I heard Stanton’s a great school,” Will added.

“It is, but most of the kids there suck.”

“Why?”

“They think they’re beyond superior. Which is ridiculous considering half of them haven’t ever been to New York City.”

“The nerve!” Will teased.

Emma swatted him.

“So you’re seriously telling me you don’t rule that school by now?”

“Not even close. There’s this group of rich snobs there and get this, they call themselves the Goldens.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I wish.”

Will’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I could totally make a movie about this.”

Emma laughed. “You sound like Megan.”

“Megan?”

“She’s a film student and like the only cool person I’ve met.”

“I like her already. Tell me more.”

“There’s not much to tell. Her best friend moved to Ireland, so Megan sorta took me in. But besides with her, I just don’t feel like I can fit in there.”

Will reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “That doesn’t sound like the Emma I remember. She could do anything.”

Emotion pressed at the back of Emma’s throat. She hadn’t felt like that Emma in a long time. “I miss that Emma.”

“We all do.”

She looked up. “What?”

“Well, most of us. Marcy Foy and Liz Vanderveer are still battling to fill your shoes as queen bee of the hive, but St. James isn’t the same without you.”

“God, I haven’t heard those names in a while.” Emma hesitated, but she had to ask, if only to protect herself from a repeat of last year. “Are you and Liz together?”

Will nearly choked on his cocoa. “What? Liz? God no!”

Emma released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“I’ve missed you, Em.” Will squeezed her hand again. “All of us have. And that’s why you should come to the party tomorrow.”

“What party?”

“Cranston’s throwing an end of term party at the hotel tomorrow night. The whole class is invited. I know everyone would love to see you.”

“Oh,” Emma’s eyes flicked away from the intensity in Will’s. “I guess that would be fun. But I haven’t even told anyone I was back in town.”

“Not even Kensie?”

“No. I was sorta planning on just spending time with my father, but since that’s not gonna happen . . .”

“It sounds like you’re in need of some New York fun. We can go to Cranston’s together if you want?”

Emma shrugged and against her better judgment, blurted, “Okay.”

Will grinned. “It’s a date.”

Emma let her heart flutter hesitantly. Will had always been charming, and that was half the trouble. Every girl at St. James would let his grin charm them right out of their plaid skirts.

But Emma decided she would try to keep the past in the past. She needed to see if she could handle being back in New York. So far, Will wasn’t acting like the horny boy who broke her heart. Actually, he seemed more like the Will she’d grown up with. The one she’d been friends with and spent years pining for. He was certainly being more thoughtful and chivalrous than she remembered.

He’d been genuinely kind to her since he’d found her rushing teary-eyed from her father’s apartment. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. Emma had changed in the year she’d spent in Boston, and she found herself wondering if maybe Will had changed too.