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  She just needed to make him see it. Remind him how fun and fantastic she was to be around.

  Emma set down her fork and walked to the edge of the pool.

  "Emma?" Anne asked uncertainly.

  Emma tossed a devilish smile over her shoulder. Before she could lose her nerve, she unbuttoned and kicked off her jeans and peeled her sweatshirt over her head. She was wearing a simple, matching baby-blue full-coverage bra and hipster bikini briefs—way more coverage than her bikini afforded her—but she felt absolutely daring.

  With a stolen glance at Knight's shocked face, she turned and dove into the pool. She surfaced and tread water. "Join me?" she asked.

  Anne stared at her, slack-jawed. "I guess but…I should change. Unless…" She shook her head. "Actually, I'm okay without a swim."

  Emma turned a flirtatious eye to Knight. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Then abruptly stood. "I'm still hungry for dessert." Then he practically jogged back to the kitchen.

  Despite the sun and her heated pool, goose bumps rose up Emma's arms and neck. A frigid chill shot down her spine. She climbed out of the pool, her face red with embarrassment. Anne was standing by the ladder to hand her a towel.

  "Are you feeling okay?" Anne asked. "You look a little feverish. I could run to the drugstore to get you something."

  Emma's teeth chattered as she wrapped the plush blanket around her body. She pulled the sweatshirt back over her head but couldn't get the jeans up her wet calves, so she tossed them aside and wrapped the towel around her waist.

  She could see Knight standing at her kitchen island, staring dumbly at the floor. It would be so much easier to lie and say she was sick, that she was running a fever. That would explain her draggy appearance and her sudden need to cool off in the pool. This weekend could become a blip on the radar of impulsive Emma behavior.

  But as she watched Knight, she knew she couldn't go back to the way things were. Knight rested his fists against the island and seemed to be clenching them as he leaned forward.

  If he wanted dessert then she'd give him dessert.

  "Emma?" Anne prodded. She rested her hand against Emma's forehead.

  "I'm fine," Emma insisted, tugging Anne's wrist away. "I think I just need something sweet to eat, too." She stalked back inside the kitchen with Anne in tow.

  Knight jumped back from the island as she threw open the French doors. Emma marched past him and opened the fridge.

  "What shall we eat?" she asked.

  Anne and Knight joined her, arms and feet crossed, contemplative frowns on their faces.

  "Brownies?" Knight suggested.

  Anne rubbed her stomach. "Totally not in the mood for chocolate."

  "How about banana cream pie?" he asked.

  Emma sighed. "Not quite what I want."

  "You two are welcome to come up with your own ideas for me to naysay."

  "I know what." Emma shut the fridge door and pulled open the freezer. "Ice cream. Just the thing for being in the heat all day."

  They pulled out tubs of vanilla, chocolate, and cookies and cream. Emma ran through the pantry to find chocolate sauce and stemmed maraschino cherries. Knight went back into the fridge for whipped cream. Anne pulled ice cream dishes from the cupboard, and they made an ice cream sundae buffet across the length of the island.

  Emma rubbed her hands together. Yes, this was what she wanted.

  They dug in, and for a few moments, the only sound was their spoons clinking against their ice cream bowls. Then Emma noticed that Anne was not just quiet. It wasn't unusual for Anne to be quiet, but Anne was also completely still. Her cheeks were puffed, her lips pursed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

  "Anne, are you okay?"

  Anne nodded but didn't answer.

  Emma set down her bowl and rose up on her toes. "Are you choking? Anne?" She took a step forward. Knight's hand held her still at her shoulder.

  "Nothing's wrong," Knight said, patting her on the back before leaning against the island. "Can't you see what she's trying to do?"

  Emma looked at Anne. She didn't look like she was choking. Her color was normal. She wasn't gasping for breath. But she kept her lips pursed, her forehead crinkled. Then a wide grin broke out on her face. She reached her fingers into her mouth and fished out something that she held over her head in triumph.

  "Ha! Got it!"

  Knight slow-clapped and then whistled.

  Emma, confused, peered closer at Anne's fingers. Between her thumb and forefinger, she held a cherry stem, tied into a little knot.

  "Hot, Anne. Real hot," Knight said.

  "I've always wanted to try that." Anne tossed the cherry stem beside her bowl. "You try it, Emma. It's not that hard."

  But Emma couldn't try it—not now. It was an old trick now. Not new and novel and fun, which is what it would have to be for her to try it. And how is it that Anne beat her to being new and fun and hot. Had the universe upended?

  "What's the matter, Greene?" Knight taunted. "Not up for it?"

  Emma's cheeks flushed. "I'm not in the mood."

  "Ah, well, that was something special, Anne."

  Emma didn't think it was possible for ice cream to stick in your throat but it did, as hard as a rock and as scratchy as asphalt. She tried another spoonful because she needed something sweet to sooth the bitterness that had taken root at the back of her teeth. A subtle ache pulsed through her as Knight grinned at Anne.

  How awful that something as wonderful as liking someone, how a feeling supposedly as pure as love, could turn a person dark.

  She looked away from Knight to Anne and stopped short.

  Anne was smiling at Knight, her face lit up, and even while Emma felt those bitter seeds at the back of her throat, she felt something else…. Anne looked happy and carefree. But instead of feeling happy for her friend, Emma felt uneasy.

  Didn't she want Anne to be happy? Wasn't that the whole point of this weekend? Maybe it hadn't come from setting her up with Josh, but Knight was making Anne feel good. Emma had wanted to be the one to put that smile on Anne's face; she had wanted the credit and the glory.

  But now that the moment was here, it wasn't that she needed credit. It wasn't about that anymore. This was Anne's weekend. This was Anne's turn to be happy.

  But as Knight and Anne continued to grin at each other, Emma felt that maybe she'd paid an unfair price for her friend's happiness. She couldn't stand here anymore and watch Knight look at Anne with that special, tender look that was supposed to be directed at Emma. But she also couldn't bear to pull the attention back to herself. She had too much pride to beg for Knight's attention, and she didn't want to hurt Anne the same way she'd hurt that girl at the taco shop.

  It seemed that the easiest thing to do would be to leave, but that felt like quitting. She wasn't ready to quit on Knight. She couldn't. He was her best friend.

  They heard the front door open with a click—Josh and Rick returning from their ride. She saw an out, and coward she was, she took it. "You two hang out in here," she said. "I'm going to take some ice cream to the guys. Come on, last chance to scoop another round."

  Knight gave her a questioning frown as she gathered the tubs of ice cream on a tray and left the room.

  * * *

  The pool house was Emma's least favorite place in the house, which was why she had given it to the boys for the weekend. The decor was a nice enough nautical theme with blue-and-white striped paint, slate-gray paintings of skippers and ships, but no matter where you were in the studio, you could not escape the sharp smell of chlorine from the pool.

  It didn't seem to bother Rick, who Emma could see through the clear sliding glass door from where she stood poolside. He was wrapped in a blanket in the far corner of the white tatami mat, totally knocked out.

  "Did he even brush his teeth?" Emma asked as she set down the ice cream on the round patio table where Josh was sitting with a pile of papers and what looked like a script on his lap.

  "Yeah. He can pas
s out stone-cold sober." Josh shrugged. "Military and all that."

  "Ice cream?" Emma pulled up the chair across from him.

  "No, thanks." Josh shook his head and patted his stomach. "Filming over the summer."

  "Which movie?"

  "Haven't picked it yet." Josh grinned. "I have a few offers. The usual hot guy on the sideline stuff but a few great scripts. Plus an Anderson! Don't get me wrong, it's half a line in a bit part but I'd give my left nut for it. My agent thinks I have a shot, but I want to make sure I get the whole script, the whole vision. You know what I mean?"

  "Sure, sure I do. That's so great." Emma let out a breath. Josh had dumped her for fame, but now she realized it was more than fame. It was his lifeblood. He loved acting. It made him who he was. It wasn't that he didn't choose her; he had just chosen himself. "I'm happy for you, Josh."

  "I think you actually mean that, Emma."

  "I always mean it when I'm happy for my friends."

  "Are we friends now?" Josh set the script down on the table and crossed his arms. "I know I've gotten in with the other girls, but I'm still not sure about you."

  She dug deep, searching for any remaining bitterness toward Josh. For any lingering sadness over their breakup. For any heartache. And when she realized there was none, her mood lightened, as did her smile. "You and I are doing just fine."

  He reached his hand across the table, and she shook it. "Glad to hear it, Greene."

  Emma was relieved she'd finally, somehow, gotten over her issues with Josh. Just in time, too, because she had other issues she could barely handle. At least sitting out here with Josh she felt at ease, unlike being with Knight right now. She attacked one of the ice cream tubs with a spoon. "How was the drive?"

  "Not bad. One of the scripts is for a race car driver so I wanted to get behind one of the cars, get the feel of it."

  "Having two girls in the car probably didn't hurt."

  Josh grinned. "Whatever helps the character. Rick was kind of a downer, though. Terrible wingman."

  "How so?"

  "Naw, no. That's not happening." Josh glanced back over his shoulder through the sliding glass door to Rick's sleeping form. "I'm not going to give you girls any more ammunition against Rick. You guys already talk trash all over him. And for what? Getting dumped? You would be all over me if we pulled the same crap with you."

  Emma resisted the tart retort at her lips. Instead, she held up her hands, fingers spread wide. "Fair enough. Consider me Switzerland. No more agenda regarding Rick."

  "Good. Let's do you instead. How was your night?"

  A total failure, so far, in securing Knight's affections. Going natural hadn't worked. Being wild and daring hadn't worked. What else was there to do?

  When she didn't answer, Josh let out a whistle. "That bad, huh?"

  "How do you know it was bad?"

  "Because you always have something to say when life is good. You don't really talk about the bad stuff."

  "Yes, I do."

  "No, you don't." Josh leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Things are always fun and exciting and so fab." His impression of her was dead-on, although she wasn't sure that spoke to him as a great actor or to her as a caricature. "I've been thinking about you a lot, Emma."

  "Ha, what I would have given to hear that from you a few months ago."

  "What can I say? I'm a heartbreaker. But stay with me, Emma. I have been thinking about you. Just as a character study, you know? Trying to figure out what makes you tick."

  "That warrants a thank-you from you when you accept your first Oscar."

  "I'll put you at the end of a long list."

  "What did you figure out then? That all this—" Emma gestured toward her face and body "—is a magic that can't be figured out?"

  "No. Actually, I think you're really insecure."

  "What? Me? Huh?" Emma's mouth dropped open, and she immediately scooped another round of ice cream. "I am, without a doubt, the most confident person you know. I am beautiful and blessed and smart and fun and popular and—"

  "I get it, I get it. But that's not what's really happening. You might believe these things about yourself, but you say them, over and over, so other people will believe them. You think that if you're not fun, for even one moment, people will stop liking you. Or if you make it hard for people to like you, they'll leave. You think people only like fun, sexy, awesome Emma. Don't get me wrong—" he held out his hand to stop her protest "—everyone does like fun, sexy, awesome Emma. But you think that if you stop being amazing, just for one moment, that people will walk away."

  He stood up and took two steps back toward the sliding door to the pool house.

  Could she do nothing right? Would no one want her? Even being fun, sexy, awesome Emma was driving everyone away. Didn't he see that? "No, wait—"

  "Don't freak out, Emma. This isn't me walking away. This is me giving you some time to think. Maybe if you weren't so scared that rocking the boat meant people would run away, you'd actually do yourself the favor of being inconvenient and unpopular, of making things difficult for your friends instead of so easy. Maybe you'd actually go for what you really want instead of letting it slip away."

  Chapter Eight

  Emma attacked her teeth with the toothbrush, scrubbing so hard she tasted blood. Who was Josh to think he could waltz into her pool house with his acting diploma in Psych 101 and tell her she was scared of her friends leaving her if she told them how she really felt?

  She wasn't scared. Why would her friends leave her? She was awesome to hang out with. Ha! Let them just try to find a better, more loyal friend than her. Emma wasn't the kind of person to smother how she felt. She was very open with her feelings.

  Not going after what she wanted? That sounded more like Ellie or Anne than Emma. Really.

  Josh was a hack.

  Soft giggles tinkered from down the hall, and she spit out her minty toothpaste. Who could possibly be down the hall with Anne? Surely not Rick, who was out cold, and she couldn't imagine Josh, which left… She heard another giggle, and she spun on the gushing water to roar over it.

  So Knight and Anne were good friends now, too. They'd grown closer over the weekend. Inevitable. She'd set up this weekend with the exact goal of helping her friends grow closer together. It just happened to be the wrong two friends.

  She was still going to be happy for Anne. Gen-u-ine-ly happy, she thought with every stab of her brush. She spit out one last time and threw the toothbrush on the counter.

  Ugh, she'd forgotten how much Josh could get under her skin and ruin everything. Had she really thought they could date? That was a lifetime ago. She was over him. Over being over him. Over him in a big way.

  She even thought to tell him so.

  She walked out of the bedroom, just as Knight came out of Anne's bedroom.

  They both froze in the hall. She felt as if someone had hammered an ice chisel straight through her heart. He'd been in her room. Laughing. Enjoying her company. Other things could happen in bedrooms, couldn't they?

  But had they?

  No, it wasn't possible. Not with her Knight.

  "Emma—"

  She went back in her room and shut the door. She leaned against it, chest heaving. She heard his footsteps come closer and closer until he was standing on the other side. She waited for the knock. She wanted to whirl around, open the door, and pummel him until he came to his senses. But after a few moments, she heard his footsteps fall away.

  The urge to run to Anne's room and asked what had gone on between her and Knight pulled at Emma. She distracted herself every possible way she knew how. She sent her mother texts and picture updates of the event and waited for a response, refreshing her email every few minutes until after half an hour she received a perfunctory, That's nice, dear.

  There were only so many cute fuzzy cat videos and model fashion vlogs she could watch before they all started to sound the same. She changed into a satin purple tank slip with lace that traced her collar
bone and sat in bed, the comforter pulled high to her neck.

  No matter what she did—whether she stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open or screwed her eyes tight—her heartbeat thudded in her ears. The image of Knight coming out of Anne's room wound through her mind and rewound and rewound. An imaginary reel of him backing into the room, taking Anne into his arms, consuming her lips.

  Emma couldn't take it anymore. She threw off her blanket and popped to her feet.

  A knock sounded at her door.

  She let out a surprised squeal and hopped back in bed. "Yes?"

  "Are you awake?" Anne called through the door.

  "Uh, yeah, come in."

  Anne opened the door slowly, letting in light from the hallway that illuminated her form. Her hair tied back in a long braid at her back, and she wore comfortable, gray flannel pajamas.

  "Just flip the switch. Come on in."

  "You sure?" She didn't wait for an answer before she clicked on the light and climbed onto the foot of Emma's bed. "Thanks. I couldn’t fall asleep."

  "Because of Knight?" Emma fisted in the blanket in her hands as she sat up taller and leaned against her bedframe. "I saw him coming out of your room."

  "Oh." Anne's brown eyes widened. "He was coming to check on me, see if I was okay."

  Emma had to clear her throat so she could speak without her voice shaking. "Why?"

  "I was thinking about Rick, and I got upset. He saw. I tried to pretend I was okay, but you know Knight. He wouldn't leave it at that. He followed me upstairs just to check."

  "That sounds like Knight," Emma said wistfully. At least it sounded like how Knight had always been with her. "Why were you upset?"

  "It was dumb. I was thinking about this weekend. About Rick."

  "You're still in love with him?" Emma asked hopefully then hated herself for it. She'd seen how dismissive Rick had been of Anne. How could she want that for her friend? How could she hope for Anne to doom herself to crushing on a guy who wanted nothing to do with her.

  "I am. Maybe I always will be. But this weekend made me realize that's not the end. There are other great guys out there. Other guys to fall in love with."