Emmy & Oliver - Robin Benway Page 0,65

to take blatant advantage of your hospitality and delicious food and generous cable TV package.”

“Hmm.” Oliver leaned in a little closer. “That’s all you want to take advantage of?”

“Oh my God, you are not playing fair right now,” I said. “Not at all.” I closed my eyes as he kissed my forehead.

“Let’s ditch and go surfing,” he whispered, so close that I could feel his breath on my skin.

“I can’t. I mean, I would if I could, but I can’t. My parents—the school, they have that online thing where they can see if I attended classes or not and my mom checks it every day.” I reached up and twirled a lock of his hair around my finger, still damp from his shower. “Your mom probably checks it, too.”

“Every day?” Oliver repeated, his eyes widening. “Doesn’t it bother you that you’re under lock and key like that?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “I guess I’m just used to it.”

Oliver nodded thoughtfully, like he was filing that information away for future reference. “So see you tonight?”

“Absolutely,” I said. “We’ll be the ones with the salad. You can’t miss us.”

He smiled and I leaned forward to kiss him again, fast before we got caught. “Rebel,” I whispered. “We’re not supposed to do that on school property.”

“Is this where I make a comment about how you should be bringing dessert instead? Because I can do that!” Oliver continued as I wrinkled my nose and shoved him away. “Not a problem, Emmy, really! If you need a cheesy joke, I am here for you!”

“Don’t forget to chill my water glass!” I yelled back, then blew him a kiss as I turned the corner. I saw him catch it, turning the corner with his fist aloft, holding my heart in his hand as he disappeared.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

When my parents and I got to Oliver’s house that night, though, his mood was different, like someone had dimmed a switch. “Hey,” he said, opening the door. He was wearing a collared shirt like the one he had worn on the TV interview, but a different color this time.

“Hi, Oliver!” My mom beamed. “Here’s the salad, but it needs to be chilled because otherwise the lettuce will wilt and . . .” She trailed off as Maureen came around the corner. Oliver glanced down and took the bowl from my mom without saying a word, ducking back toward the kitchen as Maureen bustled toward us. Her face was tight, her mouth pursed, and she gave us a smile that wasn’t exactly convincing.

“Hi,” she said. “C’mon, come on in. Sorry, we were just . . . getting ready. You are so sweet to bring the salad! Oliver, can you—?”

“Got it!” he yelled back, and I glanced up at my dad. I could tell from the look on his face that he felt the same way I did: this is going to be a long, long night.

Not quite sure what to do with myself, I followed Oliver into the kitchen while Rick came in with a beer for my dad and our moms disappeared around the corner. “Hey,” I said to his back, since he was making room in the refrigerator for my mom’s (unnecessarily enormous) salad bowl. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he said, but his face was as smooth as Maureen’s had been pinched. He wasn’t quite looking at me, either, his eyes going over my head or past my arm.

“Hey,” I said again, this time softer, and I reached out to grab his hand. “What’s wrong? You’re being weird.”

“You are,” he said, trying to duck away from the question, but just as I was about to press the subject, the twins came bounding into the room, a hyper duo of wet hair and The Little Mermaid pajamas.

“Emmy! Emmy!” they cried, and I dropped Oliver’s hand just as he turned away. “Emmy! We got a new Barbie!”

“She has brown hair like us!”

“Emmy Emmy Emmy!” Nora pulled at my shirt. “Play Barbies with us, ’kay? You can have the new one.”

“I can’t, twinsies,” I said. “I have to eat dinner and hang out with Oliver. I’m off the clock tonight.”

“You not s’posed to call us ‘twins’ anymore,” Molly informed me, even as she wrapped her skinny arms around my waist and tilted her head back to look up at me. “We’re not twins, Mommy said. We’re invididuals.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Oliver hide a smile, which made me feel a little better. “Oh, really?” I said. “Invididuals, huh? You sure about that?”

“Mommy