Old Enough to Love... (Just One of the Guys) by Kristi Pelton Page B

little elbow jabbed into his side and I hid my smile and focused on those baby blues. BINGO! She was becoming more predictable to me. As weak as she seemed at times, the girl had spunk. I liked that.
    “Come on, Em.  Just ride home with me,” Grant encouraged.
    Being this vulnerable was killing me. I wanted to shout ‘screw it’ and leave everyone standing there; yet taking even one step away from this girl was freaking impossible. I needed her to say yes.
    “I’ll take you home,” I said matter of fact.
    Ryan whispered something to her I couldn’t hear but she nodded.
    “I have some questions,” she said.
    “I’ll answer any question you have as long as you ride home with me.”
    “Come on, Em. Are you crazy? Estelle just said…”
    “Stop, Grant. Estelle said the same thing to me and you know it. They need to talk,” Ryan said.
    Wow! To what do I owe this honor? I was too guarded to ever take this act of kindness as such.  There had to be a hidden agenda.  My eyes left Emma’s and found Ryan’s.
    “Thanks, Man,” I said.
    “I’m not doing this for you.”
    Whatever. She was going with me, that’s all that mattered.
     
    She slid around in her flip flops trying to make it up the hill. I was starting to find her stubbornness and independence humorous. The harder she tried, the more she seemed to fail.  I stayed behind her and watched as she took her flip flops off and attempted the hill barefoot.
    “Ouch!” She winced lifting her right foot.
    That’s it. I lifted her and the battle started immediately.
    “Put me down, Zach.”
    I didn’t respond.
    “I’m serious. Put me down.” She angled her body away from me, pressing the heel of her hand into my chest. I chuckled, which I’m sure only infuriated her more, but she so wanted to be strong. 
    “I will put you down in about forty yards.”
    Finally, I sat her on the hood of the Chevelle, handing her the flip flops.
    Once in the car, I tossed the blanket at her.
    “Wrap up.”
    The quilt landed on her lap then slid to the floor.  She left it.
    “Come on, Emma. Get warm.” The heater was blowing cold air.
    “I’m fine.”
    “Great, then take off the Oregon Ducks sweatshirt.” Disgust was thick in my voice.
    A smile touched the corners of her mouth. She knew I was as jealous as she was. “So, let me make sure I’ve got this straight. You can scrog Estelle but I can’t wear someone’s sweatshirt.”
    “ Scrog?” I asked with raised brows.
    “Sex… scrog…hook up…same thing. Whatever.”
    Now these people had their own language.  
    I started the car.  “You said you had questions. What do you want to know?”
    “Why are you so angry right now?” she asked softly.
    “I’m not angry. Let’s just get this over with. What do you want to know?” 
    Those words didn’t come out right.
    “What if she’s pregnant?”
    The thought made me sick but I knew there was no way. “I used protection. Every time.”
    “Every time, how many times exactly have you done it?” she whispered.
    A groan escaped my throat. “Are we talking ever or with Estelle?” I hated these types of conversations and girls were notorious for instigating them.  It brought no good.
    “There must be a huge difference. Let’s start with Estelle.”   
    I shook my head from side to side and took a deep breath. “Probably five times.”
    “Where?”
    “ Em, don’t do this.” I reached for her hand but she pulled away.
    “I have to know.”
    “Why? So you can think about it? It meant nothing.” I found myself shouting and didn’t like it.  I didn’t want to frighten her.
    “Why did you do it then?”
    I sighed. “Because that’s what guys do, I guess.”
    “Believe me. I know that. I see that all the time.” Her fists were clenched. “Is that what you want from me?”
    “No!” I said instinctively then regretted it the moment I saw her face crumble. It was if my words slapped her. Her head fell back against the