Carter Ortese is Trouble - completed (The Boys #1)

Chapter 7: Carter

The apartment I live in is tiny. I've always known this, but today it feels small. The walls encroach on me, dampening my ability to breathe. I'm strangled, and I've lost every ounce of cool I had left. I have fifteen minutes to find myself before Emma Williams gets here, gets to my home.

I swallow a hollow feeling. Dread wraps around around the ends of my nerves. I lean closer to the mirror, messing with my hair for the fourth time. Emma doesn't have to try to look devastatingly beautiful; she simply is. But she'll try just the same, if I know her at all.

Agreeing to this date opened up a world of possibilities I don't want. Worst of all, it's given me hope I've never had before. I never thought friends were possible, let alone actually dating someone like Emma. Nestling right next to the ounce of hope I've created is a gnawing worry.

I should have kept my head down and waited for high school to be over.

In our closet of a bathroom, I grip the sides of our chipped porcelain sink. I should have said no. Saying no would have been easier.

I wipe the excess hair product on a towel and go to the kitchen whiteboard. I scrawl out, "Lasagna Bolognese in the fridge. I know you told me not to, but I worry."

My mom's working late again, and even though we eat grains like it's our job, her favorite dish is still lasagna. The restaurant I work at happens to make a decent one. I get it whenever I have the chance, just to make her life a little easier.

I press my eyes shut for a second and debate what else to do as I wait for Emma. More homework? I'm ahead two weeks, but I could start my English term paper now.

Just as I'm about to head into my bedroom, a knock sounds on the door. The noise is timid and hesitant. Not collection agents, because they pound the door down. It has to be Emma, and she's ten minutes early.

I freeze for a second, standing in the middle of my living room. I run my hands through my hair for a last time and grab my wallet off the stand by the door. Before I can think about it, I slip through the front door and shut it behind me quickly, before Emma can see how my mom's futon hasn't been made.

In truth, I don't want her to see how small my apartment is.

"Hey," I say, putting my key into the deadbolt and twisting the lock in place.

"Hi." She takes a step backward, opening up the space between us.

When I turn back to her, I realize she's wearing a dress. There's a clip holding her hair in place. Two locks of hair near the front of her head are wrapped together around back, draped across the rest of her hair to secure it. Her sundress is a pale forest green, and her strapped black shoes look uncomfortable and make her almost my height.

"Uh," I say, searching for a compliment, but I'm captivated.

She frowns, hazel eyes narrowing. Her dress is the perfect accent to her eyes, hair, and skin. It adds to her beauty, but I had not been expecting her to be this formal.

"My dad made me wear this. Don't say anything," she says after a moment.

I stay silent.

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Really? Can you stop?"

"I didn't say anything."

"But that smirk tells me you were thinking something."

I lean toward her, finding my confidence once again. Emma is no different than anyone else, except she is. "You don't want to know what I'm thinking." A blush reddens her cheeks, and I offer her my elbow. "Shall we?"