Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) Read Online Free

the correct way. I didn’t want to be a couple when I wasn’t able to take her out, show her she can be secure in the knowledge there is nowhere else I’d rather be. I could have skipped the parties, the nights out with friends, but it would have added another layer of animosity. That added hostility would have come from my crew because while I waited for her, I didn't touch anyone else, but if I had refused to hang because she couldn’t, it would have upped the ante on their shenanigans. Other than kissing during games at parties, I didn’t have the desire to go further . . . I was afraid it would taint what could be for us. In my group of friends, being nearly eighteen and still a virgin leaves room for a lot of taunting. They seem to hit me where it hurts the most . . .
    My parents are gay, so of course they say I am. I hate that comparison, because I support my parents, the love they have, but the stereotypical bullshit spewed about homosexuality pisses me off. I feel guilt, shame, and like a sell-out because I don’t defend them. It’s easier to keep my mouth shut, let my friends say what they do, but it’s going to come to a head because Emma hates that shit and doesn’t hide it. The frustration of feeling like a coward for not taking a stand and being pissed at her for having an opinion that she knows nothing about is pushing my resolve, and it’s an issue we won’t find a common ground with.
    I don’t begrudge her the parental units she has or the childhood with security that went with it; hell, mine’s been a carbon copy . . . except I was given away, not wanted by my biological parents. Tossed into the trash. I cling to a deep-seated sense that I’m not worthy, and that doesn’t disappear.
    God, I hope she says yes. I glance over to her after I’ve turned the truck off, and I know she’s spoiling for a fight. Eyes burning, they turn the clearest shade of blue when she’s pissed. Almost translucent. That’s my girl—my spitfire. Full of passion. It’s a beautiful sight.
    “I have no clue why you’re friends with those bumbling idiots.” Another thing I love about my Ems, she doesn’t mince words.
    I sigh. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to start this conversation. “You know we’re on the football team together. It’s just easier to keep the peace.” I shortchange the entire meaning—the fact my life would be a living hell, and I’m afraid of retaliation. Those are some mean sons of bitches.
    “Yeah, be a sheep and keep following, William Jacobs. You’re better than that hate-filled crap. It makes me sick.”
    “Ems, can we change the subject? This always causes a fight.” I fidget in the seat trying to hide the truth and feeling unease in lying to her. She’d be the first to psychoanalyze me and coddle my feelings. Fuck that, it’s embarrassing.
    “Because you are wrong and hate to admit it.” Her sweet smile isn’t fooling me. She could spar all day, and I’d never know who won the war of words.
    “So your birthday is tomorrow.” I broach a subject sure to make her take notice.
    “Yep, and you better not have been cheap. You should indulge me. It’s not every day I turn sixteen.”
    “Still the same plans?” Every year she refuses a birthday party. Her actual day is just dinner with my parents and hers. The day after she may go to the movies or whatever with friends, but for as long as I can remember, the celebration is always the same, and it ends with us at the dock.
    She rolls her beautiful ice eyes at me. “Yes.”
    “I thought we could change it up a bit.” I tilt my chin up at her, masking the flutters running through my body.
    She scrunches her nose at me and shakes her head. “Don’t mess with my tradition.” Fuck! Here come the sweaty palms. I have to think on the fly because she is so damn stubborn.
    “I’d like to start a new one.” She goes to open her mouth, and I interrupt. “Hear me out, Ems. We can do cupcakes and presents then dinner,” I