When It's Love by Emma Lauren Read Free Book Online Page A

distress. And the last thing I want is to be saved, and then left, like his poor wife.
    Henry is driving too fast for the slick road. As we zoom towards the mall, the tall leafless trees on the roadside are a blur. My head is spinning with both exhilaration and trepidation. I desperately want to stop everything and answer Professor Sparling’s message right this second. But a little voice in my head reminds me that I might be setting myself up for a big fall.

In the mall Henry moves behind me and puts his hands over my eyes. “I have to stop you from going to Footlocker for your clothes,” he jokes. “And you can’t go to North Face either. No more fleece, my friend.”
    “Please, Henry,” I fake whine. “I just need one more really sexy oversized gray sweatshirt.”
    Henry doesn’t take his hands off my eyes. I’m leaning my back into his chest (he’s got a great chest!) and we’re shuffling our way along, the scents of both fragrances for sale and food court hotdogs wafting through the air. It kind of makes me want to puke. “I hate this mall,” I tell Henry.
    “You just be quiet now,” Henry says.
    Two minutes later Henry turns me to the left and pulls his hands off my eyes. We’re standing in front of Oui , an overpriced Midwestern chain store that sells Euro-style clothing to young women in Michigan, Minnesota, Illinois, Wisconsin, and Ohio, who want to dress like they live somewhere else.
    “Eeeek,” I squeal. “I’m not shopping at Oui !”
    “Oh yes you are,” Henry says. “And I’m paying.”
    The lights in Oui are too bright and the techno music is loud. I can’t believe this is where Henry has brought me to shop. The store is crammed with dozens of versions of the little black dress – backless, sleeveless, lace, A-line, ultra-mini, chiffon, spaghetti straps, you name it, Oui has it. There is a rack devoted to white tops, a section of loud prints, an entire wall shelved with folded jeans, and a special Christmas table covered in red and white cashmere sweaters and accessories.
    A tall, elegant woman in the ultra-mini little black dress comes over to us. She flips her silky black hair back revealing her right ear whose length is covered in piercings, all tiny silver hoops, like a spiral notebook. She flashes Henry a smile through her full lips. She’s wearing deep red lipstick, fishnet stockings and fierce black pumps that accentuate her long, sensual legs. In her heels she’s Henry’s height. She looks more strip club than Cherrywood Mall. But I guess that’s what Oui is all about, trying not to be Cherrywood Mall.
    “What’s up, Marina?” Henry says. He steps away from me and opens his arms to give her a hug. He pulls back without taking his hands off her waist and eyes her up and down. “You look great,” he says, staring a little too long for someone offering a greeting.
    It dawns on me that Marina is probably one of Henry’s one-nighters. He likes to call them disposable babes. He knows it makes him sound like an asshole, but I don’t think he uses the term with anyone but me. It’s one of our many private jokes. Henry and I always laugh about his disposable babes, but I’ve never been face to face with one before. I’ve heard plenty of details, most of them so repetitive I wouldn’t know one babe from another. The amazing thing about Henry is that no girl seems to mind being his disposable babe. He has a solid reputation as nothing but a player, and girls still want him. His mother and I are the only females consistently in his life.
    Marina does a little twirl for Henry, still flashing that huge smile. “You really think I look great?” she says. “I feel like I’ve gained so much weight.”
    “Never! You couldn’t,” Henry says smiling back at her, slouching a bit with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. His blue eyes are studying her closely. “You could never look anything but great.”
    I get a sinking feeling while Henry admires Marina and I can