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EIGHT. ( the look of love, the rush of blood. )
The next morning, Emmy and Miguel had been calling all day.
Miguel was expressing his worries that Sam was seeing Robby, while Emmy was trying to reassure him that the boy was just some stray her dad picked up from the side of the road.
Emmy knew that this could be her chance to swoop in and take Miguel for herself, but she couldn't do that to Miguel.
And Sam, she thought.
"Mig, trust me. She and Robby are literally nothing. Don't let one dinner get to your head. Besides, he has nothing on you," she said into the phone, shuffling through her closet to try and put together something to wear later.
"Really?"
"Yeah! She'd be stupid if she even thought about getting with Robby. The guy isn't even that cute. His hair looks like Dora," Emmy snickered at her joke, hearing Miguel breath out a laugh on the other end.
"Thanks for listening, Em. You get me. You're my best friend, you know?"
"I know," she replied, a sad smile on her face. "See you later, Mig."
"Later."
When he hung up the call, Emmy huffed. "I hate crushes."
Suddenly, the sound of her father yelling in the backyard made her rush to her window, and her eyes widened.
Johnny Lawrence was right outside her house. And he was fighting with her father.
Without thinking, Emmy rushed out of her room and ran to the pool area, where her mom and Anthony were already standing.
