The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

thirty-three

Hainsey

The next week goes by at an alarmingly fast rate. Every day that passes is just another step toward Ems leaving for university. I wish time would freeze. Okay – I wish time would freeze after my birthday. Nineteen seems like a good age to be stuck with forever.

Rosa left for Abbottsford yesterday, staying a week longer than originally attended, which resulted in her dad calling her when he arrived home from Europe and didn't see his eldest daughter's car in the driveway. It was quite interesting to listen to, but not nearly as interesting as the conversation Ems had with him when he asked her how the trip's gone so far.

Anyway, we're a week into August now, and it's only two more days until my birthday. Tonight, Ems and I are over at Val's for dinner. She's making some kind of Spanish dish that smells amazing. I don't know what type of exotic spices she's used on the vegetables and rice she was cooking earlier, but I can't wait until the food is ready.

I could get used to this: hanging out with Val and Ems on the back porch of Val's cabin-style house and looking out over Lost Lake in the evening heat of the summer. It's been a long time since I felt this relaxed. It's perfect because right now, I'm sitting here and I have my arm around my girlfriend's shoulders and her head is resting on my shoulder. It's simplistic, but it works for me.

"I love this," Ems murmurs, nestling closer to me.

"So I do," I reply after a sip of iced tea. It's the real shit, too – homemade and bitter instead of sweet and sugary like the ones you ask for in restaurants.

Ems lifts her head from my shoulder and scans the waterfront and forest in front of us. She has a sexy-tomboyish look going on that she works to the max. She's wearing a vintage black crop top that shows of her midsection and a pair of ripped jean shorts that show me nothing but leg. The scuffed black Vans and hot pink ball cap complete her look. Beside her, in swim shorts and a grey muscle shirt, I feel nondescript and more like a beach boy than a mountain boy.

Knowing I'm probably ruining the moment, I poke Ems in the side and ask, "So how's it going with your mom? Have you guys talked since the fight?" The day after we spent the evening playing hockey, Ems told me all about the spat she got into with her mom about the shit that's happened – tears and all.

Ems shrugs. "It's going okay. Awkward as fuck, but things definitely aren't as tense as they were when I first got here. I think she's planning a girl's day sometime next week." She ends the sentence with an eye roll.

I smile and poke her again. "That's good, right?"

She squirms away from me. "Stop that! You know I'm ticklish!"

I cock an eyebrow and set down my iced tea, leaning toward her. Her brownish-green eyes ignite with a playful look. "Is that so?" I tease, pretending to reach for her, only to pull back.