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Crap! I flash an awkward smile. "Oh, uh, hey ladies. Fancy seeing you here..."
Emily's eyes widen in alarm before her expression morphs into a scowl. "Seriously, Owen? You're spying on us now?"
"What? No, nope. Just passing through!" I say with faux casualness.
The wild-haired one marches over to me, hands on her hips. She's tiny but somehow manages to look intimidating.
"Listen bud, I don't know who you think you are, but?—"
"It's fine, Mags," Emily interrupts, grabbing the girl's arm. She turns to me, eyes narrowed. "We're leaving."
They brush past me, but I step sideways to block their path. "Hang on now. I think you owe me an explanation. What are you two doing sneaking around at this hour?"
The one called Mags fixes me with a death glare and opens her mouth to retort, but Emily speaks first.
"Nothing. Not that it’s any of your business. Let us pass." Her tone brokers no argument.
I hold my ground. "Doesn't seem like nothing. Looked an awful lot like you were up to something crafty. So I ask you again. What are you doing here?"
Emily snorts. "I could ask you the same thing." She pokes me hard in the chest.
I’d be lying if I said that little touch didn't burn right through my clothes.
I use one finger to move her hand to the side. "Looking for excuses to touch me, Kitty Cat?"
Yeah, I’m shamelessly having a little fun with Emily with her tiny friend right here. Seriously, do short people have a way of finding each other?
Mags scoffs. She turns to Emily. "Come on, let's just go."
Emily hesitates, holding my gaze. I think I spot a flicker of amusement in her eyes. She bites her lip. "Ya know, for a meathead, you sure think highly of yourself."
"Meathead?!" Now I'm out for blood. “Oh it's on, sister!”
Emily gets all up in my face, her wild hair tickling my chin. I have to fight the urge not to laugh at this pint-sized ball of fury. Or kiss her. Her juicy watermelon scent is getting to me. What is that? Shampoo? Lotion?
Stop thinking about Emily and lotion, Owen. Just stop!
Mags steps between us with a weary sigh. "Enough! We're leaving. Now."
She grabs Emily by the elbow and steers her down the hall. I trail behind them, not about to let them just walk away.
"Hold up! We're not done here."
Emily whirls around, eyes flashing. "The puck’s in your court, Jablonski."
What could she possibly mean by that?
With a final witchy grin, she follows Mags around the corner, their footsteps echoing down the empty hallway. I rake a hand through my hair in frustration. Well, that was a bust. I still have no idea what those two were up to.
I'm intrigued despite myself. There's a fiery recklessness simmering under that petite blonde exterior. And I find myself wanting to stoke those flames, to see them rise up and consume us both...
Woah. Where did that thought come from? I shake the image from my head sharply. Focus. I’ve got a thief to catch. No time for bizarre daydreams about Emily freaking Brooks.
9
OWEN
My stall is completely covered in glittery My Little Pony stickers. I blink a few times, wondering if I'm hallucinating. Nope, they're definitely there. All over the shelves. All over the framed action shot of me on the wall.
