My Own Best Enemy (Apple Valley Love Stories #2)

by Julie Christianson

Today I will buy a new bathing suit at The Body Barn. Maybe even two suits, just to be nutty. More importantly, I’ll speak kindly to myself while I’m trying things on, no matter how bad the lighting makes me look. Editorial note after the fact: That place must get their dressing room mirrors from the circus.

She smells like sugar now, by the way. Sweet but with a hint of spice. She’s cinnamon on French toast. And did I mention how beautiful she is? Of course, Emi was always beautiful. She was also the youngest, smartest kid in our grade—always with the right answer, forever busting the curve. The harder Emi worked, the more intimidating she became. To everyone. Guys. Girls. She was untouchable. Stop thinking about touching her, man.

By now I can’t tell if my dizziness is from the warmth of his hands or from the blood rushing to my head. What I do know is that when Nash leans over me, his eyes dark and soft with concern, he smells so good he steals my breath. His scent is clean laundry and … is that bergamot? Before I can stop myself, I sniff. A long, loud inhale. His brows fly up. NASH KNOWS I AM SMELLING HIM. So much for what’s left of my dignity.

Omg Emi! :)))))

Lucy snorts. “Just stick by me.” “Are you kidding?” I move an inch closer. “For the next hour, you can call me super glue.”

Haha lol

In fact, I’m rethinking my aversion to being a die-hard. Because right now, I’d like to stop living.

His gritted teeth could probably chew through metal. And his arms look like twin pythons, both fists punching fast. I wonder who he thinks he’s beating up. Hopefully not me.

“You know what, Nash? Your plan didn’t work. Because I am stronger than I used to be. I don’t care what the people in that class think. Or what you think. Or what anybody thinks. I am brave, Nash Hendrix. BRAVE! So you can take your meanness

It’s the Nash Hendrix. He’s wearing fitted jeans, a black T-shirt, and a sky blue hoodie. So casual. So perfect. I hate him so, so much.

After years of being teased in school, and last summer being dumped by Travis, I should be a human callous by now. But my chin begins to quiver. No matter how hard I try, I’m still not good enough. And I still make a fool of myself. I’m not giving up, but how much humiliation can one clumsy goat take?

“Well you did say this truce probably wouldn’t last. But you’d better watch out too, because I just might keep being nice to you anyway. You might even start to like me.” “Oh, don’t you worry, Nash Hendrix. My dislike of you is rock solid. Like Gibraltar.”

According to my mother, we were both born pretty. She’d say it as an objective fact, right before telling us that pretty doesn’t matter. It’s how you treat people. What you do. Who you are. She really loves the Golden Rule.

An unexpected perk of becoming a librarian wasn’t learning about things. It was learning about people. Like everyone’s a little damaged. It’s just that some of us wear our cracks on the outside. Others hide the chips inside.

If safety had an Olympics, I’d be the gold medalist.

Oil and vinegar. Salad dressing. I CAN’T BE EMI JONES’S SALAD DRESSING.

“I’m talking about a love affair with Lucky Charms. And Mountain Dew. Oh, and Dexter’s Doughnuts.” Ah. Now I get it. And I’m a little bit too relieved. “Dexter’s really are the best,” I blurt with more enthusiasm than donuts deserve.

Why is this funny hihi

For better or worse, Emi’s smiling at me. Guess we’re salad dressing now.

Nash. I thought you can't be Emi's salad dressing bec you guys are oil and vinegar…

and I can’t be a third wheel with Brooke and Mac forever. So I’m going to need to find another wheel. Or at least a spare tire. Editorial note beforehand: Try not to accidentally call Lucy a spare tire to her face.

Then again, I understand wanting to find your own place in the world, needing to feel worthy, and necessary to people outside your inner circle. Outside of your name.

Fulfilled. Even in my own head I think the word in air quotes. Who’s totally fulfilled in this life anyway? It’s all a compromise.

If we could see the disasters waiting for us around every corner, we’d be too scared to go anywhere.

Before: I’d never been kissed by Emi Jones. After: I never want to stop kissing her.

Huh. Is this a jab or a joke? With Emi, it’s hard to tell. One minute she’s hot, the next she’s cold. Fire and ice. How do I even deal with that?

And even though I know I should steer clear of her, I want to keep her even closer. Every word, every look, every touch from Emi sucks me in and spits me out. Lord, help me.

The truth is, the more I see Emi Jones, the more I see Emi Jones. She wears pig pajamas for puppet shows just to make her audience smile. She suffers through a kickboxing class to help a friend in need. She’s kind to little old ladies who might be a few crayons short of a box. She tells little girls who want to be princesses to shoot for being strong. She picks a gecko to be her pet. She trips and falls and stands up again. Emi brushes herself off. Keeps going. Keeps smiling. She’s a total original. Who wouldn’t want to be with a woman like that? I want to be with a woman like that. I might want to be with this specific woman.

that means is you’re not perfect. And so what? Nobody is. Anyone who tries to be perfect is going to fail. Because there’s no such thing.”

“Here’s the thing, Emi,” Lucy says, finally. “I’m not minimizing your pain, believe me. I totally get that you’ve been hurt. And that some things are still hurting you now. But—and don’t hate me for saying this—maybe some of that pain is because of you.” I glance at her, and she’s eyeing me sideways, probably trying to figure out if I can handle this level of honesty. “You’re saying I’m hurting myself?” “I’m saying that hanging onto all the bad stuff from the past isn’t doing you any favors.” She averts her eyes, and I realize what she’s saying to me is hard. “Maybe you’re looking backward because it’s a built-in excuse that gives you a reason to avoid …” “To avoid what?” She meets my gaze. “Moving forward.”

I’m allergic to happiness. I’ve always wrecked good things first before they can wreck me.

“Mr. Worst-Case Scenario is really changing his tune.” This makes me chuckle. “You’re right. I guess my worst case scenario now is a future without Emi.”

Reasons To Tell Emi How You Feel: 1. You’re going to lose her if you don’t.

America’s Next Top Model: I’m going to The Clumsy Goat on Saturday night at six o’clock. I’ll be the guy alone in the back room, waiting for Emi Jones. If she doesn’t show up, I’ll be there for life. I’ll keep waiting forever, but I’d rather be with you sooner. So. Please come.

Sometimes the hardest lessons are the ones you end up having to teach yourself.

“But this is all happening so fast.” “Some of the best things do.” He quirks an eyebrow. “Besides. We’re hardly strangers, Emi. We’ve known each other for decades.” I blink. “I hated you for decades.” “Maybe.” He tilts his head. “But I don’t think you hate me anymore. In fact I think you like me. A lot. So how about we spend the next two months not hating each other—and being together all the time—then see if we still don’t hate each other in June.” He smiles and his almost-black eyes are sparkling. “I’m pretty confident you’ll still like me a lot. And that I’ll be able to convince you to let me come with you. But if you say no, I’ll be happy to chase you. And I’ll keep chasing until you stop running.”

God this is so sweet

He looks down at the bowl of marshmallows. “I’m still not one hundred percent sure how I feel about sharing my Lucky Charms for the rest of my life. Or how well geckos and dogs get along.” When he lifts his chin, three dimples light his face. My all-time favorite math.

“Take it easy, sweetheart.” His eyes dance as I settle in his arms. I raise a brow. “Don’t call me sweetheart unless you mean it.” “I do,” he says. I do.