Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,31
my fingernails.
“Oh, totally,” Caro agreed. “She probably makes so much money that she could hire a team of tiny elves to hide in her hairline and hold her face up.”
“Creepy. They’d probably sing all these songs and be annoying.”
“Good point. Wait, back it up, I missed what he said.”
I reached for the remote and rewound it a few seconds, back to the original question of how it felt for Oliver to be home.
“It feels good,” he said, smiling a little and tugging self-consciously at the button on his wrist cuff. I could see Maureen’s fingers twitch, restraining herself from reaching out and stopping his fidgeting. “I just missed my mom and so it’s good to see her again.”
“Simple words,” the newscaster’s concluding voice-over said as Maureen smiled at Oliver, “that say . . .”
“Aaaand, dramatic pause . . .” Caro muttered, her eyes on the screen.
“. . . so much more. Colleen Whitcomb for Channel Seven news.”
I reached for the remote and muted the sound, trying not to disturb the blue dots. “Well, he looked happy, at least.”
“Simple words that say? So much more,” Caro repeated, mimicking Colleen’s tone. “Who actually talks like that? That doesn’t even mean anything. If I wrote that down on the AP English exam, I’d get a one. Maybe a two if the grader was hungover.”
I nodded in agreement, eager to not talk about AP tests anymore. “Do you think he looked happy, though?”
Caro glanced back at the TV, even though the story was over. “I guess,” she said. “I don’t really know what Oliver’s happy face looks like. Maybe he’s just one of those people who looks perpetually underwhelmed.”
“He doesn’t always look underwhelmed!” I protested. “When we went surfing, he—”
“When you what the what?” Caroline all but chucked the bottle of Crimson Cabaret over her shoulder. “You went surfing with Oliver?”
“I didn’t tell you? My parents made me, they practically shoved me out the door.” I avoided Caro’s eyes as I turned back to my nails.
“And you didn’t tell me? Where’s my phone?”
“Why do you need your phone? Are you going to tweet Colleen Whitcomb and give her the scoop?”
“No, I’m texting Drew. I don’t care if he’s out with Kevin right now, he needs to know about this.”
“Wait, who’s Kevin?” I ran through my mental Rolodex of the guys that Drew liked. “I don’t know a Kevin.”
“He’s the homeschooled one. They played soccer last week and Drew’s team beat his and then I guess they did that whole ‘line up and shake hands’ thing afterward and love blossomed.” Caro fluttered her eyelashes dramatically. “You haven’t met him yet.”
“Why didn’t Drew tell me?”
Caro was typing like her fingers were on fire, wet nail polish be damned. “Drew already knew about you and Oliver?” she cried, reading off her phone screen.
“There’s no me and Oliver!” I said. “And of course he knew! Where do you think we got Oliver’s board and wet suit from?”
“You’re both dead to me,” Caro muttered, still texting.
“Wait, though. Is Kevin cute?”
“He’s cute in that tall, chiseled, soccer-playing way,” Caro said. “So yeah, pretty much. Although, let’s be honest, water polo is where it’s at.” She paused to read the screen. “Drew says he needs a ride to school on Monday because his van’s getting detailed.”
“Tell him I’ll pick him up at seven.”
“She’ll . . . pick . . . you . . . up . . . at . . . seven.” Caro narrated her text as she typed.
“Does Kevin look like David Beckham?”
Caro just raised an eyebrow. “How many high school seniors do you know that look like David Beckham?”
“Zero?”
“Exactly. And I don’t even care about Kevin anymore. I care about you and Oliver surfing together.” She sat on her knees next to me, like an eager puppy who had been promised a treat.
“What?” I laughed and turned back to my nails. “We surfed, we had dinner—”
“Oh my God, you went on a date with him.”
“It was not a date!” I protested.
“If you eat food with a guy, it’s a date. Proven fact. Don’t argue with me, I don’t make the rules. This is just how it is.” Caro flapped her hands at me. “So? What else?”
“I don’t know, I just taught him how to surf—”
“Was he good?”
“No, he was terrible. Almost as bad as you.” I waited for Caro to respond, but she just nodded in agreement. “And then we went to the Stand and had food and then we came home.”
“Do your parents know you guys went