The snowball effect, p.19
The Snowball Effect, page 19
“That’s not the way I heard it from Sutton.” Emma was unable to stop chuckling at the outrage in Regan’s tone.
“And that’s because Sutton was traumatized by the series of events, and that’s fine and all, but it did mess with her ability to recount the tale correctly,” Regan countered.
Before Emma could respond, she felt her phone buzzing in her pocket and pulled it out. It was a little late for either her grandmother or Allegra to be contacting her, but –
Emma honestly hadn’t realized what a genuinely good mood she’d been in until that moment when the laughter died on her lips and her stomach churned as she read Kimberly’s name on her screen.
Regan immediately noticed the change in her body language, pausing a few feet away from their door as she glanced down at Emma’s phone. “Everything okay?”
“It’s fine,” Emma claimed, and it mostly wasn’t a lie.
She hesitated with her thumb over the red decline option, unable to bring herself to actually turn the call down.
She’d dodged Kimberly’s attempts to reach out for the last week even more doggedly than she’d been doing before. And it had nothing to do with Regan or her mom’s belief that they were together.
For some reason, the return of Mr. Cuddles to her life and the insistent image of her mom’s desperately earnest expression as she’d offered the bear to Emma had made this need to avoid her become even more intense. Even more vital.
And yet, conversely and bafflingly, it also made Emma feel terribly about her avoidance. The watchful eyes of Mr. Cuddles sitting on her bookshelf made her think about the times her mom would puppet the bear and sing ridiculous songs until Emma laughed so hard she could barely breathe.
That feeling took over as she flicked her gaze to Regan. “I think I need to take this.”
Regan watched her carefully, nodding. “Sure. Whatever you need to do.”
Emma took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, trying to quell the nerves in her stomach… then answered.
Before she could say a word, her mom spoke. “Emma? Did I catch you on the first try?!”
Despite Regan starting to meander forward, tugging out her keys to unlock their door, Emma knew that she could still hear everything Kimberly said, given the decibel her mom talked at.
Still, she supposed she would give it to Regan – she was fiddling with her keys and making it appear somewhat like she wasn’t absolutely riveted by what was playing out on the call.
“Yeah. Seems like you did,” Emma replied, feeling the way she often did with her mom – painfully awkward. She wished she knew some other way to be; she had when she’d been younger, but over time, that had shifted. Leaving… this.
“I won’t keep you long – unless you want to chat?” Kimberly asked but then continued on without waiting for an answer. “It’s just been over two weeks since I saw you, and I didn’t want to let too much time pass before we confirmed those dinner plans! So, like I said, I won’t keep you; I just wanted to know when you and Regan will be available. Maybe sometime this weekend? I could even do tomorrow, if you’re free?”
Regan immediately zipped her gaze up to stare at Emma as soon as she’d heard her name. So much for pretending like she wasn’t eavesdropping.
Emma froze where she stood, her stomach twisting at the reminder. Right. Her mom – and her gram – still believed she was in a relationship with Regan.
And Emma had been so focused on everything else playing out with Regan – their argument, then subsequent friendship – that she hadn’t exactly had the time or energy to think of what the hell she was going to say to her family about it.
The stupidest, most ridiculous lie, honestly. And the stupidest, most ridiculous thing was it still seemed easier to let her mom believe than tell her the truth.
Emma slowly started speaking, shaking her head at that thought, “Uh. You know. About that. Regan and I – we actually aren’t…” She heaved a sigh, her stress mounting as she dragged her hand through her hair and blinked at the ceiling.
Should she tell her mom she and Regan broke up? Was the truth – that she’d lied in order to find another excuse to put off spending time with Kimberly – even a viable option? It felt too cruel at this point. Especially since Kimberly had seen them with her own eyes, keeping up the charade.
“We aren’t available tomorrow, unfortunately, because I have work,” Regan answered, her voice coming from right next to Emma.
She snapped her eyes open, looking down at Regan, who was pushing up onto her tiptoes to get her mouth closer to Emma’s phone.
The result was their shoulders pressing tightly together, as she breathed in Regan’s fresh scent.
“But maybe Saturday?” Regan suggested, sliding her gaze to Emma’s, eyebrows lifted in question, waiting for her to give her agreement.
She could feel every warm breath Regan exhaled, washing over her jaw, as their eyes were only inches apart, and it – it was jarring. She’d never stood so close to Regan in her life, close enough to see that there were little flecks of amber starbursting around her pupils.
Her stomach fluttered for an entirely different reason, and Emma found her breath catching in her throat, before she remembered abruptly why Regan was standing so close, staring at her like this.
She’d never been so relieved to have reality crash back down on her, and she found herself nodding, “Uh… I guess Saturday works for me, too.”
Okay, so, they were doing this, still. Both because it made Emma’s life easier in the immediacy in dealing with her mother, and because it allowed her the freedom to pull back, away from being so startlingly close to Regan.
Kimberly’s answering squeal of excitement was piercing. “Saturday is perfect! I’ll see you both then!”
The silence in the hallway was deafening when Kimberly hung up.
She was still trying to process it when Regan tentatively spoke, “That was, kind of, my act-first, think-later mentality. It seemed like you were in a pickle, still, so I’m sor–”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Emma cut in, not needing or wanting to hear Regan’s apology.
Sure, maybe Regan had jumped into her crazy lie. But Emma was the one who had made this situation unnecessarily complicated by avoiding telling the truth in the first place.
“This weird lie is what got us into that… predicament,” Emma said, because it was the truth. She’d spiraled and accidentally insulted Regan because her grandmother had found out about the lie. “So, I’m not holding you to it or anything; it’s not why I’m doing this,” she gestured between them.
Crazily, it was the truth.
“I know. But if it makes your life a little easier right now with your complicated-mom-stuff, why wouldn’t I do it? I already told you that I love a little scheme. This is what friends are for. Besides, I really don’t have any plans Saturday night.”
Regan said the words so simply, so easily, as she unlocked their apartment door.
It was as if she wasn’t doing Emma a giant favor, as if she wasn’t going along with this lie, helping Emma out, and giving up her own weekend night off to do so.
And Emma stared at Regan, feeling like she finally – finally – understood. Like everything really was clicking into place.
She’d wondered for years why Sutton was such a staunch friend to Regan, even when Regan did crazy things like message women on her behalf on dating apps or got them lost on road trips. Why Sutton wasn’t bothered by Regan’s eccentricities or lack of ambition.
But this was why.
Because Regan did things like show up to take her friends out to dinner, listened to every story with intent, and remembered every detail. Because she was willing to throw her own lot in with someone she cared about and ride out the storm together.
She felt like she’d put in the final puzzle piece.
And she didn’t realize how intently she’d been staring at Regan until Regan turned to face her and asked, “Do I have something on my face?” She was already reaching up and brushing the back of her hand over her cheek before Emma answered.
Emma flushed, shaking her head intently as she dropped her gaze. “No. You’re good.”
But Emma wasn’t – she was getting pulled into Regan’s crazy orbit! If she weren’t careful, the next thing she knew, she’d be the one getting traumatized on impromptu weekend road trips!
“It’s EditorialEmma,” she said, deliberately averting her stare as she shut the door behind her.
“What is?”
“My book-reviewing name,” she explained, breathing through the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach at being vulnerable. But Regan was doing her a favor, and Emma liked to replay favors to make sure everything was even.
Regan’s face absolutely lit up at the information, and her obvious excitement helped quell Emma’s embarrassment. “You just saved me so much time I’d already mentally set aside for tonight to find your secret social medias!”
Oh no. It really was happening. She should have found Regan’s determination to find Emma’s private accounts annoying, an invasion of privacy.
Instead, she found it… was this endearment?
It was, she realized, as she watched Regan do a little excited dance as she walked down the hallway.
God help her.
eleven
Audrey L. Gallagher – 5:00 PM
Brunch reservation next Saturday. Fox and Hyde. 11 AM.
Regan paused where she stood in her bedroom, frowning at her sister’s text. She opened her calendar app to double-check her suspicions, feeling triumphant as her suspicions were confirmed.
Regan – 5:01 PM
I don’t see it on Audrey and Armando’s wedding calendar?
She’d taken calendar notifications a little more seriously since last month. Keeping an orderly schedule was obviously incredibly important to Emma, and Regan – in her determination to be a better roommate and… dare she say, friend? – was adhering to that.
And Regan would have to admit that checking in with her calendar and keeping track of things on there had been making her more far more organized and less frenzied.
Audrey L. Gallagher – 5:01 PM
It’s not on there. That’s why I’m texting you, Regan. To let you know that you should make a note of it in your calendar.
Regan stared down at her sister’s text for a few seconds – since when did Audrey throw together a last-minute bridal party event? But… whatever. She responded with a thumbs-up, added it to her calendar, and tossed her phone onto her bed.
Right now, that was unimportant.
Emma’s family was the focal point of the evening. She took a deep breath, shaking off Audrey’s weirdness as she looked in her full-length mirror.
She ruffled her hair a bit, the dark strands falling in their natural waves down to her shoulders. She wore minimal makeup, but she figured that was a good decision. Even though Regan hadn’t ever gotten to the stage of a relationship where meeting the family was a thing, she wasn’t an idiot. She was aiming for the sweet spot – looking good but not looking like she was trying too hard.
With her hands on her hips, she turned to look at the outfit options she had laid out on her bed.
The thing Regan desperately needed to concern herself about not fucking up was this. Because things with Emma had been going so well lately. Like, really well.
Like – Emma actually smiled at her, all cute and sleepy, when they were in the kitchen to get coffee at the same time in the morning.
Like – Emma was even getting into watching The One with her. Not only did she not get annoyed when Regan paused the episode to make her commentary about each of the candidates, but Emma liked to do that, too.
“Now, that guy definitely poses with a fish on dating apps,” Emma scoffed derisively about a contestant the night before.
Regan had giggled, settling down deeper into the cushion next to her as she gestured to the other guy on screen. “And he takes all of his pictures from an angle beneath his chin.”
Like – she’d literally shared her secret book-reviewing social media page with Regan!
Regan couldn’t – wouldn’t – blow this newfound friendship tonight by not making a good impression at family dinner. It meant a lot to her.
With that thought in mind, Regan strutted to her bedroom door and tossed it open. “Emma! Can you come here? I need you.”
She stared intently at Emma’s adjacent bedroom door, itching to walk over and open it herself.
She didn’t, though, because Emma wasn’t Sutton, and she wouldn’t like that. Even with all of their progress.
Thankfully, a few seconds later, Emma stepped out. “Is everything okay?” She asked, looking down at her phone, her thumbs moving over the screen.
The question on Regan’s lips died, falling back down her throat as Emma stood in front of her in high-waisted black shorts with a baby blue button-up tucked into them. But the buttons weren’t all done up just yet.
No, the top… five? Six? Were still undone, and her breasts were being showcased in the seriously incredible white bra she wore.
Regan didn’t know what it was about Emma’s breasts that she found so fascinating. She really didn’t. But it was an undeniable fact by now, something she’d simply had to come to accept.
Maybe it was because the sight brought Regan back to the first time they’d met at the café, when Regan had ripped her shirt open, and Emma’s prodigious chest had been there, right in front of her face. Maybe it was because her breasts were so much bigger than Regan’s own – or Sutton’s or… any woman’s that Regan had ever seen in real life.
They were mesmerizing.
“All right, I ordered the Uber,” Emma commented as she tapped her phone again, finally lowering it. “What did you–”
Emma abruptly cut herself off, mirroring Regan’s wide-eyed stare. Those blue eyes traced down Regan’s body, then back up before Emma promptly dropped her gaze pointedly to the floor.
“Regan! Why did you call me out here? You’re naked!”
Shaking herself out of her stupor, Regan glanced down at herself to double-check before she defended, “I am not.”
She wasn’t; she was wearing one of her favorite lingerie sets. A lacy purple pair that showcased her breasts as best as possible. However, as she looked at Emma’s, she felt very humbled.
Amused, she took a closer look at Emma. “Are you blushing?”
“Well, you called me out here so that I could apparently look at you in your underwear,” Emma scolded, her tone scalding. “Which – you know we need to leave in like five minutes, right?”
“I know, that’s why I called for you. Come,” she ordered, waving Emma to follow her into her room.
Emma sighed before several seconds passed… and finally, she followed into Regan’s room.
She still was pointedly avoiding looking at Regan, though, she noted with no small amount of amusement. Instead, Emma was intently peering around at her bedroom.
“I thought you’d be way more chill about seeing a woman in her underwear, given that you’re bisexual and all. I’ve literally met your ex-girlfriend,” she pointed out, poking Emma lightly in the arm. She frowned as the thought hit her. “Wait, are you asexual?”
Emma aimed a frown in her general direction. “No, I’m not. But,” she tipped her head back, sighing at the ceiling. “On an average day, I don’t see women… especially like you… walking around like this.”
It was Regan’s turn to frown – women like her?
“Women like me?” She echoed.
Yes, the blush on Emma’s cheeks most definitely deepened as she steadfastly avoided looking at Regan. “Mhmm.”
“Who are women like me?” She pressed, taking a step closer to Emma. “Women you’ve lived with? Baristas? Your friends? Your ex-nemeses? Your–”
“Women who look like they’ve stepped out of a lingerie ad, literally wearing that lingerie,” Emma explained, her voice tight as she frowned down at the clothing options on the bed.
Whatever other goading words Regan was going to say fell back down her throat as she felt herself flush, butterflies erupting in her stomach. Again, she gave a cursory glance down at her own body, before looking back at Emma. “You think I look like I could have stepped out of a lingerie ad?”
Emma finally looked at her, exasperated. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
Equally exasperated, Regan tossed her hands up into the air. “No! That was the last thing I expected you to say.”
“Regan, look at yourself,” Emma retorted, her forehead crinkling in what looked like genuine confusion. “You look… good.”
Regan did look back down at herself. Even though she was never shy around her own nudity, she felt – well, she felt different in this moment, as her stomach squirmed pleasantly. “I guess I’m just used to standing next to Sutton,” she murmured without thinking too much about it.
But the first time they’d gone to buy bras and underwear by themselves as teenagers was a memory Regan could easily recall. Sutton had emerged from her fitting room, far more self-conscious than Regan, but utterly statuesque.
“You’re both thin and very… traditionally attractive,” Emma said quietly, still clearly baffled, even as she was still blushing.
Regan rolled her lips. “I mean, I know that. But – look. Spending my entire life standing next to Sutton, who’s tall and has all her muscle tone and flame-red hair… people notice Sutton first. Even I do,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh.
Saying that aloud made her stomach churn unpleasantly, especially when Emma stared at her as if she was trying to read Regan’s mind.
“Anyway,” Regan cleared her throat uncomfortably – wow, did her texts with her sister really did get into her head so easily or something? “I am ready – except for the outfit.” She made a sweeping gesture at her bed, where her top contenders were laid out.
