Page 12 of Extra Grumpy
“When’s that dinner again?” I ask through clenched teeth.
Emily gives me a strange look. “Sunday. Why?”
“Tell your parents I’m coming.”
“Uh…Rock…I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” She pauses. “We would have to make it convincing.”
“So?”
“I just…do you…are you sure you want to do that? You know how bad I am at acting.”
It’s a fair point. Our junior year of high school, she tried out for drama club. She was given a small part in the spring play, and she got so flustered on stage that she blurted out another actor’s line instead of her own. I tried to encourage her to give acting another shot, but she was too mortified to try again.
“This is different,” I say. “It’ll be fine.”
Emily doesn’t look convinced.
“You want to get your mom off your back, right?” I press.
She sighs. “Yes.”
“Then let’s get her off your back.”
“Uh…let me think about it, okay?”
I don’t know what there is to think about, but if she needs time to think it over, fine. I give a single nod of my head.
Emily smiles at me, although there’s something troubled in her eyes. She looks away from me and looks up at the top of the shelf behind us. “Could you get that box down for me?”
I reach for it and hand it to her. “Anything else?”
“Nope. I’m good.”
When she squeezes past me to leave the room, I try to not notice how good she smells. But she does. She’s always smelled amazing.
I put my hand in my pocket and check to make sure the ribbon is still there. It is. Sighing, I let go of it and walk out of the stockroom.
7
EMILY
I drum my fingers anxiously on the side of my leg, wishing I was anywhere but here. I’m trying to be positive and tell myself that this dinner could go perfectly fine, but the worries inside my head keep overwhelming my thoughts.
I just knocked on my parents’ front door. Any second, my mom will open it. I glance over at Rock, who’s standing beside me on the front porch. He looks so serious and focused. I wonder what’s going on in his head. Sometimes I feel like I know exactly what he’s thinking, but this isn’t one of those times.
He’s wearing a nicer shirt tonight, a dark navy blue polo. I was surprised when he walked out of his bedroom with it on—I didn’t even know he owned any polos. When I told him he looked nice, he just shrugged and mumbled something about how it’s not like he could wear a t-shirt to dinner at my parents’ house.
I hate that there’s so much friction between my parents and Rock.
I never expected Rock to want to come to dinner. I guess it really bothered him that my mom was still trying to set me up withpeople. He can be so protective like that sometimes. I just hope he doesn’t say anything to my parents that makes this situation worse—or gives them any additional reasons for not liking him.
Everything will be fine,I tell myself.We’ll get through this. Everything will be perfectly, wonderfully fine.
The front door opens and my mom appears, smiling in a warmer way than I expect. She’s as well-dressed as she always is, in a cashmere sweater and pressed pants and house shoes.
“Hello, honey,” she says, her eyes shining at me as I step forward and give her a hug.
“Hi, Mom.”
