Dangerously Mine

Chapter Two: At The Dinner Table

Emily's POV

“Blake… Beaumont?” I finally managed with the words feeling foreign on my tongue.

His lips curled into that infuriating, superior sneer I’d already come to hate.

“Yeah,” he drawled. “That’s right. The one person who could single-handedly make life tough for you in the whole state of California.”

My mom, ever the oblivious hostess, clapped her hands together.

“Oh! You two know each other already? What a wonderful coincidence!”

Blake’s gaze never left mine but his voice switched to something sweet and charming for her benefit.

“Just acquainted from school earlier today, Caroline. Small world.”

The lie was so smooth and so effortless but I saw the challenge in his eyes.

I just gave a tight, jerky nod.

“We bumped into each other.” Understatement of the century.

Bernard grinned, completely clueless.

“Awesome! Well, you’re in for a treat, Em. Blake’s the best. Been my guy since, like, forever.”

The best.. right.. the best at being a jerk.

We settled at the dinner table and the air grew thick enough to chew. Mom had made some fancy pasta dish but I might as well have been eating cardboard. Every clink of a fork against a plate sounded like a gunshot.

Blake held court, effortlessly charming my mother with stories about “summers in Monaco” and “the dreadful hassle of choosing a new yacht.” Bernard laughed along like it was all perfectly normal.

Then, between sips of water, Blake’s eyes would slide back to me.

“So, Emily,” he began with his tone deceptively light. “Willow Creek University. It’s a… quaint little school. I’m surprised you ended up here. Not a lot of… what’s the word… opportunity for newcomers.”

I speared a piece of asparagus with a little more force than necessary.

“Is that right? Well, I’ve always liked a challenge. Besides, it’s refreshing to be somewhere people aren’t paid to be nice to you.”

His smile tightened at the edges.

“Charming. I’m sure you’ll find everyone here is very… genuine. Right up until they have absolutely no use for you anymore.”

“Blake, another breadstick?” Mom interrupted, shoving the basket toward him like a peace offering.

He took one, his movements graceful and controlled.

“Thank you, Caroline. You know, your daughter has quite a… spirited personality. I can see she doesn’t shy away from confrontation.”

“She’s always been strong-willed,” Mom said and I could hear the warning in her voice, a warning I chose to ignore.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” I mused, putting on a thoughtful face. “I met a guy today who was just dripping with what he thought was charm. Came off more like a leaky faucet of arrogance. But you’re probably right. I should work on being more… placid. Less likely to call out obnoxious behavior when I see it.”

Bernard frowned, looking back and forth between us.

“Uh, you guys sure you just bumped into each other?”

“Positive,” Blake and I said in unison with our fake smiles firmly in place.

The rest of the dinner was a brutal volley of insults wrapped in polite conversation and by the time Blake finally made his excuses to leave, my jaw ached from clenching it.

The second the door closed behind him, the pleasant mask my mom had been wearing shattered.

“Emily, what in the world was that?” she demanded with her voice tight. “What did you do?”

“Me?” I scoffed, pushing my chair back. “Why is it automatically what I did?”

“Because I know you! I saw the reports from your father. The fights, the detentions and the…” She trailed off, throwing her hands up. “I just want you to have a fresh start here. A calm one. Can you please for once just try not to make an enemy of the most powerful family on the West Coast on your first day?”

That stung.. it stung because it was probably true, and it stung because it came from her.

“Those reports were crap,” I shot back, my voice rising. “And I didn’t start anything with your precious billionaire brat. He ran into me and acted like I’d personally offended his entire bloodline just by existing.”

“You need to be careful,” she pleaded, her own anger giving way to a frantic anxiety. “You need to think! You can’t just talk to people like that, Emily! Not everyone is…”

“What?” I challenged, stepping closer. “Not everyone is what? Like Dad? Someone who actually let me have an opinion?”

“That’s enough!” Bernard’s voice cut through the tension uncharacteristically firm. He was standing between us, looking at me with a mixture of frustration and pity I couldn’t stand. “Just stop, Em. Go to your room. Cool off.”

I looked at my brother, then at my mom... her face pale and worried... and a fresh wave of bitterness washed over me. This is why I didn’t want to be here. This scrutiny, this expectation that I was the problem.

Without another word, I turned and stomped up the stairs to my temporary prison, slamming the door just hard enough to make my point.

**

Sunday came with no classes, no orientation and no Blake Beaumont. Just me, my beat-up iPod and a town I hadn’t called home in over a decade.

I spent the day wandering and it was weird like walking through a dream I only half-remembered.

The ice cream parlor was now a trendy coffee shop. The old movie theater was still there, looking sad and a little forgotten. I wasn’t re-familiarizing myself so much as saying goodbye to a ghost.

As the sun began to dip, I found myself actively delaying the inevitable walk home. The thought of my mother’s worried disappointed eyes and Bernard’s awkward attempts at peacekeeping was worse than the growing chill in the evening air.

So I kept walking. My playlist was a solid mix of angry girl rock and melancholic indie... the perfect soundtrack for my mood.

I tucked my hands into my jacket pockets, my breath making little clouds in the air and just… drifted.

That’s when I felt it.

The prickle on the back of my neck and the unshakable feeling that I wasn’t alone.

My first thought, of course, was him. Blake. The rich boy with too much time on his hands and a suddenly personal vendetta. Had he sent someone? Was he following me himself, getting a kick out of watching me jump at shadows?

Instead of fear.. a cold anger settled in my stomach. Oh, you have got to be kidding me. If he thought he could scare me, he had another thing coming.

I kept my pace steady and calm but inside, every sense was on high alert.

I subtly pulled one earbud out, letting it dangle so I could listen and the sound of my own music faded, replaced by the quiet hum of distant traffic and the crunch of my own footsteps on the pavement.

Crunch. Crunch.

A half-second later, another, softer crunch echoed mine.

Someone was definitely there.

I didn’t speed up and I didn’t look back but my mind was eerily clear. I scanned the street ahead.. it was poorly lit with long stretches of darkness between the weak circles of light from the streetlamps. Up ahead on the right was a narrow alley between two closed-up shops... a perfect black hole of shadow.

Okay, Emily, I thought. Game on. Let’s see what you’ve got.

I prepared myself, mentally running through the self-defense moves my dad had drilled into me a lifetime ago.

I tightened my grip on my iPod.. a pathetic weapon but better than nothing. My muscles coiled, ready to spin around and confront my stalker the second I got close to that alley.

I took a breath, steeling myself. Three more steps.

Two.

One.

I was level with the dark mouth of the alley and that’s when a hand shot out from the blackness.

I yelped before a hand clamped over my mouth, stifling my gasp and an arm wrapped around my waist and I was yanked violently off my feet, pulled deep into the shocking cold and absolute darkness of the alley…!