Somebody's Baby

---Emma---

Thursday went as well as it possibly could, and school Friday was mainly uneventful. My only big news is that I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk in between third and fourth period, and fell, scratching my uncovered knees. I always wear skirts on Friday – I figure I should leave everyone with a good memory of me for the weekend.

Hannah is throwing a party tonight, since her mom is going to be spending the night in the city with her best friends. I already told her I would go over to her house around eight to help get everything ready. So until then, I can do whatever I want.

At eight oh five, I roared into Hannah’s driveway, shut my car off, and opened her garage door.

“Hello?”

“Oh hey sugar, I’m in the den!”

I walked through the kitchen and into the den to find Hannah pouring Cheetos into a big purple plastic bowl. Her short, layered medium brown hair was worn down, and she had on navy short shorts with a gray, low v-neck Abercrombie and Fitch shirt.

“You are so late!”

I scoffed at her over-dramatics, and started setting up the cups for beer pong.

“Am not. There was a hold up like, a block away.”

“Oh yea? Ambulances?”

“Nah, just a lot of people screaming at each other.”

“Ah,” she sighed, slightly disappointed.

“God, you are so sadistic. You wanted people to be hurt!”

“Did not! Ok…maybe a little. But not because I like pain! Just like Dane Cook says, we Americans love car accidents. And if there is one thing I am, it’s American.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing, and finished pyramiding the red plastic cups.

---Andrew---

“Hey, Andy! You are running so late, man! The party started without you,” queue drunken laughter.

I stepped into the foyer of Hannah’s house and observed the damage. Already, there were cups placed haphazardly around the room, people on couches playing guitar hero with rap music blasting louder than the game, girls dancing in the den, and two games of beer pong going on. I nodded hello to everyone who greeted me before heading to the kitchen to start my night.

Three beers, two failed Stevie Ray Vaughn songs, and five dances with a random girl later, I was a little more than buzzed and getting louder and flirtier by the second. I walked over to the couch where Reed was sitting and collapsed into a heap beside him.

“God man, you alright?”

“Oh yea, don’t worry about me. Just have a strangely low alcohol tolerance tonight.”

“Sucks! Look, dude, Emma is kicking ass!”

I snapped to attention at the sound of her name, and only then noticed that the seat I had taken coincidentally had the perfect view of Emma playing The Killers “When You Were Young” on expert level. Completely concentrated, her now straightened long blonde hair fell into her eyes as she focused on her fingers and the notes shown on the television.

When she finished, perfectly playing 95 percent of the song, loud cheers went up around the room. Girls playfully high fived her, and all the guys gave her friendly side-hugs as she made her way to the kitchen. She reached Reed eventually, and he smoothly stood up to slip an arm around her shoulders.

“Nice babe! You need to start tutoring Cassie.” He stage-whispered, “She’s an embarrassment.”

His girlfriend and Emma’s good friend, Cassie, slapped his arm and gasped when he said that.

“I am not! Sor-rey for not being on expert level. I guess hard is just pathetic.” She pouted her lower lip as Emma, Reed, and I laughed at her expense. Then Reed leaned over and kissed her annoyance away. That kept her quiet.

As Reed and Cassie were transported to their own make-out world, Emma and I looked at each other awkwardly. She was the first to make a move, only it wasn’t towards me, but rather to the kitchen.

“Hey, Emma?”

She whipped around, and nodded.

“Good job.” Then, I broke the unspoken boundaries between us.

I choose to blame it on the alcohol, but some nagging part of me knows that that is a lie: I’ve wanted to hug Emma Carthwright for over a year.

So I did.

And it wasn’t awkward, or full of hard angles and ill-fitting bodies. No, I am here to report that it was amazing. She fit perfectly against me, and after she got over her original shock and hugged me back, I realized something horrifying.

I really wanted her to be my girlfriend.

I was sick of this whole look-but-don’t-touch bullshit. It was all or nothing.

I really want it all.

---Emma---

Oh my God. Not only did Andrew just compliment me, he also hugged me. And it wasn’t a side hug or a quick, strictly platonic hug. No, it was a full-on, no-space-between-your-bodies hug.

It was wonderful.

I walked into the kitchen slightly panting for breath and noticed that my body felt different. Not bad different, just unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I was tingling, and my hair was standing on end, and my heart rate had increased at least fifty beats per minute. I filled a glass of water at the sink, hoping that the cool water would help me get a hold of myself.

It didn’t. I downed the cup of water only to realize that I had an uncontrollable urge to pee. So I pushed my way through loud, obnoxious people grinding or drinking or whatever they were doing, endeavoring to make it to the bathroom. However, I finally reached the door only to find it was locked. Slightly pissed (actually not slightly: just plain pissed) I banged on the door.

Hannah opened it, opening her mouth to say “Wha-“ before seeing me and pulling me in.

“Hey! How are you?”

I shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“What?! Are you not having a good time?”

“No, no, I am! I’m just a little confused.”

“About what?”

Hannah was suddenly completely sober, sitting on the counter of her hallway bathroom, totally ready to listen to all of my problems.

“It takes a long time to tell. I don’t think you have the concentration level to sit through the whole story right now.”

Hannah shrugged, admitting that it was true, before she looked up at me and smiled. “But I can try.”

So I let her listen as I sat down against the bathroom door and poured my heart out. I blame it on the alcohol, but some nagging part of me knows that’s a lie: I’ve wanted to tell Hannah that I have a huge crush on her ex-boy for the past… forever.

She was shocked when I first told her, but as she kept listening to my woes about how he is so cold to me while being sweet to everyone else, she completely understood and even had the nerve to smile at me knowingly.

“I know something you obviously don’t!”

Sighing, I made her happy and asked what it was.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Really, because this could be life-changing, earth-shattering shit right here.”

“Yea, just tell me.”

“He has liked you for like, ever. That’s why we broke up. I felt that no matter what I did, I never quite measured up to you. But you never seemed to like him! This is just too cute. You guys are perfect for each other, and no one ever knew it!”

I felt my mouth drop in shock. He likes me? How was that possible? He was always so rude. Well, not always, just sometimes, the more I think about it. Actually, not even most of the time. He was just distant. But if I was ever in trouble, he was there to help me. He would pick up my purse for me if I left it behind at the lunch table. He would take notes on my homework whenever I was sick. And he broke his habit of not touching me directly tonight. God did he break it! That contact was incredible. Even if it was only for a few seconds, I wanted more.

And I had a feeling I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had it.

---Andrew---

Goddamn, those three beers went straight to my bladder. I had to pee so badly I could hardly walk. I forced myself to stand up and stiffly shove through crowds of dancers and drinkers to finally get to the quiet hall where Hannah’s house had a bathroom. I slowly approached the door, not wanting to jiggle my pee around too much (it made it worse) when I heard Emma talking. And she wasn’t stopping anytime soon. She was in a full blown monologue about some boy that she liked.

Wait, fuck, she liked someone? Every urge I had to relieve my bladder disappeared as I went into spy mode. Who could she possibly like? She didn’t act differently towards anyone, but I clearly heard her say, “He is just great. I like everything about him – his outgoing, charismatic personality and I mean really, he’s gorgeous.” Then Hannah’s higher voice floated out from under the door.

“Seriously, Emma, he’s perfect for you. Now you just have to tell him that you like him.”

At that, someone gasped and then started coughing. I recognized the cough as Emma’s. “What? No way! I hate making the first move.”

“Well, you didn’t before Carlos.”

“Don’t talk about that asshole.”

“Just because he used you for sex and then dumped you doesn’t mean that every guy will! Give this guy a chance. He has been one of my friends for years, and I, as the official matchmaker, say that you guys belong together. He is guaranteed to be different.”

Though I would have loved to keep eavesdropping, something about the whole situation was just too wrong. Here is Emma pouring her heart out in her best friend’s bathroom to said best friend, and here I am listening in on this intimate conversation. So I quietly walked back the way I came, went upstairs, and used a bathroom up there.

As I was doing my business, I went over everything I had heard. One: Emma liked someone. Two: Hannah had known him for a long time. Three: It killed me that Emma liked someone that wasn’t me. Four: I wanted to kill Carlos.

Eventually I wandered downstairs and went outside, desperate for some fresh air to calm me down. It was a gorgeous night, and strange by some stroke of luck, I had the backyard to myself. Well, except for the potheads in a corner, but they were all too high to count. So I sat down in a wrought iron chair and stared up at the stars. I was so intent on looking that I didn’t even hear light footsteps cross the deck and end behind me. What I did hear, though, was Emma’s tentative voice.