Falling for Fallon (Oak Hill 2)

Just a few days ago, after it seemed my Emmett love spell had been lifted slightly, I’d been lying in bed when my phone buzzed on my side table. My eyes sprang open, noticing the illuminating light from the screen. I slowly reached my hand over and pulled it in front of me. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but I answered it anyway.

My heart did a series of tumbles in my chest.

It was him.

His voice on the other line was that full-on sleepy, gravelly voice that completely had me rethinking all of my plans from earlier in the week. We talked for three hours that night.

Three entire hours.

Honestly, if I were to add up all the times Derek and I had held a conversation, just the two of us, it probably didn’t even come close to being a whole three hours.

Emmett and I had been texting every day since then. It had been over a week, and we were still texting like high schoolers who just got their first phones.

I inhaled another deep breath, loving the refreshing scent of spring, and tapped my heeled toe on the cobblestone. Derek’s car was about to arrive any second, and I audibly groaned.

This night would have been a whole lot better if Emmett were my date instead of Derek.

The one thing I loved when talking to Emmett was that he wasn’t a part of this world. We talked about everything, except Derek and my impending marriage. He stayed true to his word. He told me he wouldn’t ask any more questions, and so far, even after talking several times a day, he hadn’t made a peep.

I glanced down at my phone again, clearly annoyed, wondering where the car that Derek was sending for me was. My phone vibrated in my hand at the same time I saw that it was 4:57.

Joy replaced my annoyance when I saw it was Emmett texting me.

Emmett: I’m rolling my eyes because it’s a Friday night, and instead of you and me tackling something on your bucket list, you’re probably wearing that sexy-as-fuck dress.

I laughed out loud, quickly replying.

Me: I’m rolling my eyes, too. I don’t want to go. These events are boring, and I have to fake my happiness for the sake of my parents.

Emmett: Don’t go. Just come hang out with me instead.

I shook my head.

Me: You’re a bad influence.

Emmett: That’s what I’m here for. Are you there yet?

Me: No, not yet. Derek’s car isn’t here yet. Did you look up that restaurant I told you about? I was told it has the best tacos in all of Ohio.

As soon as I hit send, a sleek, black town car pulled up. I was hoping that Derek wouldn’t be inside and that he’d just be meeting me there, because I wanted to continue living in my fantasy world of texting Emmett like there was some type of future with him.

I breathed out a bundle of held breath when I realized that he wasn’t, in fact, inside waiting for me. I didn’t admit it to Emmett, but I was a little nervous for Derek to see me wearing the color red. He specifically told me not to, and it was a really fun thought to rebel against his wishes, but I was beginning to think it was a bad idea. Maybe I did look bad in red.

My nerves only intensified when the driver pulled the car up to the convention center. I quickly pulled out my phone, realizing that Emmett never replied. I hurriedly texted him, my fingers flying rapidly over my screen.

Me: I’m here, and now I’m slightly worried that Derek is going to make me feel like crap for wearing red because he said I looked bad last time. If I don’t text back, he’s shoved me in a closet and demanded I change before he allows me back into the gala. LOL.

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The driver pulled open the door, and I took his white-gloved hand, allowing him to help me out. I looked ahead and saw Derek standing by the doors in his classy black suit. He paired his suit with a red bowtie and black dress shirt. My head slanted, confused by the color choice of his bowtie.

So he can wear red? But I can’t.

Figures.

I stepped one foot out in front of the other before I paused. My phone had buzzed, and something inside of me told me to read it before taking another step forward.

Emmett: Don’t give him… or anyone, really… the power to make you feel something you’re not, Fallon. I can promise you that you look amazing. And yes, you’ll taste one of those tacos very, very soon.