“Hey Riley. Hey Abby,” Courtney Haines says, draping Emerson’s arm over her shoulder. “Glad you guys could make it to my little shindig!”
“This is your house?” I exclaim, looking around in wonder. My dad’s place is pretty stately, but her home is truly a den of luxury. It’s more of an estate than anything else. Our area of Connecticut is chock full of gigantic homes, but her family’s puts them all to shame.
“Yep. And would be my room,” she smiles smugly, letting her hand travel down into Emerson’s back pocket. “My parents were nice enough to give me the master suite and everything, their dear hearts.”
“How nice,” Riley says flatly, stepping up beside me. Riley’s family is distinctly working-class, and the trappings of wealth have never interested her much. She’s never held my family’s financial situation against me, of course. But that’s only because I’m aware of the privilege that comes along with having a family that’s “old money”. She has no patience for the rich kids in our school who seem oblivious to how good they have it. And Courtney is most certainly one of that number.
“Come on babe,” the redheaded girl says to Emerson, “We’re just about to play a little game. You girls should play too!”
“What sort of game are we talking about?” Riley asks, stealing a nip of my booze. “Darts? Poker?”
“Seven Minutes in Heaven,” Courtney squeals, bouncing up and down excitedly on the balls of her feet.
“Are you serious?” I blurt out.
“Sure,” Courtney replies, miffed by my less-than-enthusiastic response. “What’s the problem? We’re doing it ironically. You’re some kind of hipster, aren’t you? You should appreciate that.”
“I’m not a hipster,” I reply, “I just like to read, occasionally.”
Emerson tries to cover up a hearty chuckle with a cough. I glance over at him, amazed. Did I actually just make my Detractor-in-Residence laugh?
“Whatever,” Courtney chirps, towing Emerson back toward the group, “Join in or don’t.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I mutter to Riley, as Emerson strides away.
“And miss your chance to wind up in the closet with your OTL?” she grins back.
“My what?” I ask blankly.
“Your One True Love, obviously,” she says, looping an arm around my waist and dragging me toward the group.
“Oh please,” I whisper, “It was just a crush! And besides, it’s over now.”
“Right,” she says, rolling her eyes, “Because I didn’t just see you fawn over his six pack for a long, steamy moment back there.”
“I didn’t fawn over anything,” I hiss, “I just—”
“OK!” Courtney chirps, rubbing her hands together and looking around at her assembled guests. “Let’s do this. Everyone know the rules of Seven Minutes in Heaven?” Her eyes land on me. “Abby?”
“Ha. Ha.” I murmur, wanting very badly to melt into a puddle. “Yes, I know the rules. I was in eighth grade once, too.”
The group chuckles, surprised by my swipe at the queen bee. Courtney isn’t the kind of girl who gets talked back to very often. Which, in my opinion, is why she should be talked back to at every opportunity. Even Emerson cocks his head at me in something that looks faintly like admiration. Or at least, something other than generally bored disdain, which is his default attitude toward me.
“OK. So who wants to pick our first two victims?” Courtney asks, her green eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Me! Dibs!” Riley says firmly, thrusting her hand into the air before anyone else has a chance to. A cold stab of panic rips through me as my best friend smiles wickedly.
“Great,” Courtney chirps. “Riley, you start. Who should we stick in the closet first?”
“Don’t you dare,” I mutter under my breath, “Riley, I mean it—”
“Emerson and Abby!” Riley crows triumphantly, shooting me a smile that clearly says, You know you want it. You’ll thank me for this someday.
“Oh,” Courtney replies, the corners of her pretty mouth turning down. “I mean. I guess that’s fine. If you’re into incest or whatever.”
Our classmates laugh with delight as that taboo word drifts through the air like some smoke from one of Emerson’s cigarettes. A deep pang of shame twists my core. I’ve spent many a sleepless night berating myself for still being attracted to Emerson. I’ve hurled the “i word” at myself a million times, hoping to break the spell he’s cast over me. But no dice. No matter how wrong the rest of the world might think it is, I’m crazy for this gorgeous, cool, sneakily intelligent boy. Our parents little affair can’t change that.
“Super twisted, Riley,” Emerson laughs, crossing his thick arms. “I like it.”
Courtney’s eyes flash with jealousy as she swings her gaze my way.
“Fine,” she snaps, clearly annoyed not to be heading into the closet with Emerson herself. “But you two had better make good on it. No twiddling your thumbs in there. We’ll want some proof that you actually did something. Right everyone?”
A chorus of assenting murmurs sounds off around the circle. I look around at my classmates, befuddled and humiliated.
“What the hell kind of proof do you want?” I ask, “I’m not the sex tape sorta gal.”
“Figure it out yourself,” Courtney sniffs, shoving Emerson toward me. “You can thank your bestie Riley for her suggestion.”
“Thanks bestie,” Emerson grins at Riley, coming to a stop in front of me. He makes a grand sweeping gesture, offering his arm as if we were going to a ball. “Ma’am?” he teases.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I grumble, storming past him to the closet door.
The crowd makes kissy noises as I wrench open the door and march inside with Emerson on my heels. As I step into the space, I’m taken aback. I was expecting some kind of coat closet, with barely enough room to move around. But of course, Courtney’s closet is an enormous walk-in affair, with rows and rows of clothing, shoes, and accessories lining the huge space. Her closet is fancier, and perhaps even as big, as my bedroom at home. There are golden-plated fixtures, a sparkly chandelier hanging overhead, and a decadent, velvet fainting sofa standing front-and-center.