Where You Are by Tammara Webber Read Free Book Online

superficially.
    “So what are we doing tonight? Hanging out with Em and Derek, or do I get you all to myself?”
    For some inexplicable reason, it really bugs me when Marcus calls Emily Em . There’s no good reason for this. It doesn’t bother me when Dad does it. Or Derek, though he only calls her Em when he’s parodying some Jersey Shore guy, like he did last week: “ Aaay, Em, babe, whaddaya mean we ain’t got time to make out? Badda-bing, five minutes—I’m happy, you’re happy, every-freakin-body’s copacetic.” Emily punched him in the arm, earning, “Ow, woman, whaddaya gotta do that for? I’m a sensitive guy.” And then she rolled her eyes and he dipped her backwards and kissed her so thoroughly that I felt it .
    I ignored Marcus’s “Em,” as I had every other time he’d said it.
    “It’s just us tonight. And, um, we need to talk.”
    “Uh-oh, that sounds a little serious,” he said, still smiling. When I pressed my lips together and didn’t deny that it was, his smile wilted, and I turned and led the way to my room.
    I’d never actually seen Marcus in a bad mood, except for a few times during rehearsals for It’s a Wonderful Life , when I thought he was somewhat overly-critical of our cast mates’ performances. We were doing community theatre, not Broadway. But I took him to be a typical serious, perfectionist theatre geek and let it pass. We started going out after the show wrapped, and he’d never showed any sign of irritation with anything.
    We sat on my bed and he waited for me to explain. I cleared my throat and arranged the words in my head. There was no reason Marcus and I couldn’t remain friends. We’d had the rare kissing marathon, but hadn’t gone any further than that. Frankly, I’d had a hard time picturing myself with Marcus in any serious physical way. I’d assumed that the botched relationship attempts with Reid and Graham had stomped those desires right out of me.
    The thought of Graham flooded my imagination with thoughts of him, and it took concerted effort to push those contemplations from my mind and direct my attention to the task at hand: letting Marcus down gently. “You know the, uh, movie I just filmed?”
    He arched a brow and then laughed lightly. “Yeah, School Pride —I think everyone who knows you is familiar.”
    I chewed my lip. “Well, I was close friends with a guy in the cast—”
    “That would be… Graham Douglas?”
    “Uh, yeah. How did you—? Nevermind. Not important.” I shook my head. Those tabloid stories I’d ignored hadn’t been ignored by everyone else. And everyone else apparently included Marcus. “I ran into him in New York. And… it appears that we have feelings for each other.” I watched the effect these words had on him—the confused frown, the tilt of his head as what I was saying started to become clear, the incredulous look when he got it.
    “So wait. You go to New York and ‘run into’ a guy you haven’t seen for a month, and didn’t see for several months before that—or is there more to this that I need to know?” His anger took me by surprise, not because it was undeserved, but because it was so uncharacteristic.
    “Uh, no...”
    “You run into him, and the two of you just decide to embark on—what—a full-fledged relationship? Are you breaking up with me?”
    I was stunned at his vehemence. And his assumption. “Marcus, we never agreed we were a couple—”
    “Emma, we’ve been going out for almost four months, and neither of us— that I know of —has seen anyone else for the past couple of months. I’m not crazy to make assumptions.” His tone was spiteful. This wasn’t the Marcus I’d known for months. Not at all.
    “I’m sorry.” It was lame, but it was the best I could do.
    He stared at the bedspread, and I almost held my breath. I didn’t want to hurt him, but I gathered that his feelings had grown stronger than I’d comprehended. Wondering if I’d been blind to this, I thought