AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As if my thoughts of him are a siren call, I hear a crunching of leaves and twigs and look down in time to see Emmett’s shiny black car pulling off the road and parking below the water tower. Great. I have a feeling this is going to become a new habit for him, inserting himself into my life. I roll my eyes at the thought. What I don’t do is move even a muscle in an attempt to leave.
He gets out of his car and even in the dark I can see his bright smile as he looks up at me and waves before starting the climb up the ladder. He’s wearing dark gray sweatpants, a plain black T-shirt and a black beanie. It hasn’t gone unnoticed that he seems to always be wearing a beanie or hat.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, a little out of breath, as he sits down on the top of the water tower next to me.
He’s close. So close I can smell the woodsy scent of his cologne mixed with a clean, fresh scent that must be from his shampoo. Or maybe it’s the detergent he uses. Without even realizing what I’m doing, I lean even closer to him and breathe in deeply through my nose, filling my senses with his intoxicating scent. That swarming feeling begins in my stomach and travels lower.
I pull myself out of my momentary lapse in sanity and sit upright, edging away from him. He’s staring at me, with that big bright smile plastered across his face.
What am I–why am I–I can’t have these feelings for him.
I narrow my eyes at him and let out a sigh.
“What are you doing here, Emmett?”
He doesn’t stop smiling, not even for a second. He never misses a beat.
“I’m here to keep you company,” he says.
As if I looked like I needed it, or asked for it, and his answer should be obvious.
Emmett leans forward, resting his arms against the metal railing, but never takes his eyes off me.
“What book are we reading tonight?” He asks, nodding his chin to the book in my lap.
Knowing any hope of reading is no longer in my near future, I close the book and show him the cover.
“Brief Answers to the Big Questions, Stephen Hawking. Hey, that’s the wheelchair dude, right?” he says.
I set the book aside.
“I may not know much about what is and isn’t acceptable to say, but I’m pretty sure ‘wheelchair dude’ isn’t a nice thing to say,” I tell him, rolling my eyes and leaning onto the rail in front of us.
“You’re right. You are so right,” Emmett says.
I notice a look of guilt plaguing his face as he too leans against the railing. “Why were you homeschooled? Is it like a smart people thing?”
I let out another frustrated sigh. At this point, I think I’m sighing to remind myself how annoyed I should be by him.
“We’re doing this? We’re asking personal questions and talking as if we were friends?”
His smile grows a little, and he gives me an excited nod.
I look away from him, out toward the twinkling lights of Easton, and let my shoulders relax a little. Maybe if I tell him the truth he’ll run for the hills and I can go back to enjoying my Friday nights alone.
“My family goes to Johnson Church. I was homeschooled through the church,” I tell him.
“Wait—isn’t that, um—”
He chews on his lip. He’s obviously being more cautious with his words after I just chided him.
“You can say it,” I tell him, meeting his eyes.
“Isn’t it kind of like a cult?”
Yes, now run.
I’ve never heard anyone call it a cult to my face. Sure, I’ve heard whispers in the grocery store, more so when I’m in public in Sheridan where the church building is in people’s faces. When I started going to the library, I did my research and sure enough—Johnson church is a full on, slap you in the face, fucked up cult. At least, that’s what I’ve decided. It’s not actually on any official list, but from someone who has lived it, the criteria fits.
