Cozy • An Embry Story

.1

Winnie's POV

Someone should have told me that my crush was that obviously in plain sight for anyone to see.

I somehow convinced myself that I was mature about it. I thought I kept my crush mostly to myself. I thought I was careful not to do double takes at him, or try not to sit in the desk next to him whenever we had a class together.

I didn't let myself like Embry Call.

I tried my hardest to avoid him in the halls, I never mentioned him—let alone told anyone—I didn't even look at him. I had my back to Embry all four years of high school.

But everyone within ten feet of me knew the whole time. No one told me how bad I actually had it for Embry Call.

I was mortified when my friends first told me how I should go to a party because Embry was suppose to be there. They said it so casually, so knowingly, as if they were talking about the weather. While I was so speechless that my mouth dried up. I barely managed to ask them how many people knew ten minutes later. They shrugged me off, they were sure I knew everyone in our grade already knew I liked Embry since middle school.

I was so humiliated I just hid in their bathroom till it was time to go. One of my friends did her best to apply makeup on me in the car. She was so excited for Embry to see me with eyeliner, blush and lipstick that was shakily applied in a dark car. I barely remember if it turned out scary or decent because it was the least mortifying part of that night.

With a reservation as small as La push, most parties often end up at the beach. Everyone in the school always shows up to the beach parties. No parents, and plenty of space and the beach keeps people entertained, which all make it the perfect party venue. It was the last day of summer, the first day of school started in just twelve hours. The entire three hundred something student body packed the beach, half of them already in the water and the rest building bonfires or serving out the jungle juice. That was local tradition, each student had to bring a bottle of any kind of liquor to mix in or be shared. La Push jungle juice never tasted like fireball and gummy worms; it tasted like cans of beers and stolen booze from our parents, and it guaranteed the worst hangover of your life. Only the strong could handle it. Tourists can barely endure a cup.

I didn't.

"You're not gonna forget this night." My friend Skylar laughed, but looking back at it now I should have taken it as a warning. She was right. I never did live this night down.

I can still feel the sand in the night air brushing over my exposed shoulders whenever I think about this night. I feel the heat blasting on my skin where hands squeezed. Then immediately the hordes of laughing and ridicule.

I'm not going to play victim, and tell myself that was the worst night of my life. It wasn't. God knows I've had dozens of harder nights. But it's the night that changed everything, and even after all these years La Push won't let me forget it. Till this day I'm still known as the Drunk Girl on the rez.

All my friends thought Embry and I was such a cute idea. They were all supportive, but at age fifteen it was more pushy than helpful. Skylar lent me her bikini, and swapped for my regular one piece that was one size too small for her, which showed off the beginnings of her new boobs. While me, who barely hit puberty barely filled out her baby blue, triangle, stringy two piece. They had to triple knot the measly string before we all got into the car.

Even now I still won't wear a bikini.

Anyone and everyone could see how red my body flushed when I was swimming in that two piece. An embarrassingly orangey-pink blush that I couldn't hide. All I could do that night was tugged the bottoms as high they would go and pray the knot held over and over again.