Teaser Tuesday

It's my very first EVAR Teaser Tuesday! Are you excited? I'm excited!

I'm posting a scene from SOUTH OF JORDAN even my beta readers haven't read yet (psst, beta readers, I changed the title because my sister said the original title sucked. Having sister who will tell you when something sucks is the greatest gift a writer can have).

I hope you all like it.

I’m still mentally berating myself when I look through the peep hole. No cop. Emily. I open the door to let her in. She’s got her arms crossed and she’s glaring at me.
“Um, hi?”
She jerks her thumb toward Kane’s Jeep. “What’s he doing here?”
“Nothing. Just hanging out. Why? Do you want to come in?” She shakes her head no, so I step out onto the porch and close the door behind me. “What’s going on?”
“How long have we been friends Jordan?” she demands.
“Oh… Um…almost ten years?”
“And in all that time, I never had you figured as a girl who would lose herself over a guy.”
I’m already on edge and Emily’s accusation causes my strained patience to snap. It’s a struggle to keep from raising my voice. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Lucy and I stopped by Sicilia Vecchio to see you last night. You know, when you were supposedly covering for a sick hostess.”
This isn’t good.
“I was.” My attempt at a defiant tone falls flat.
“Cut the bullshit, Jordan. Some guy told us you met Kane there and the two of you took off. That was after he tried to say you hadn’t been there at all.”
“And what did this guy look like?”
“Curly hair. Hot.” Gian. They must have come while I was in the basement with my spreadsheets.
“Look, Emily…” I trail off. What can I even say at this point?
She shakes her head in disgust. “Spare me, okay? Just admit you bailed on me for your boyfriend.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like, Jordan?” she spits.
I want so badly to tell her. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not my secret to tell.” This is true enough, and obviously not the answer she is expecting. She opens her mouth to say something, but then snaps it shut. I can see her anger evaporating.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Em. It’s been miserable keeping this from you.”
“Will you tell me when you can?”
I lean back against the closed door. I’m exhausted. Exhausted from people wanting things from me I’m not sure I can give. Exhausted from being scared all the time. “Yeah,” I tell her. “If I ever can, I’ll tell you what’s been going on.”
“Okay. I guess I’m going to take off.” She steps off the porch and starts heading to her car. Then she turns back toward me. “Hey, J. Blair?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you have to do something you can’t tell me about, can you just tell me you’re doing something you can’t tell me about?”
“Fair enough.”
I watch her climb into the lime green VW Beetle we’d nicknamed Bugsy after she got it for her sixteenth birthday. When she starts the car, music spills out of it. She’s playing the mix of punk songs I’d made for her in an effort to sway her from Britney Spears to Alkaline Trio.
The memory presses against me until I can’t breathe—driving around aimlessly with her last summer, blasting that CD with the windows down, searching for something, anything to help us kill the daylight hours until the next party. I want to go back to that time so badly, the longing makes me double over. Emily drives away and takes the music with her, and I’m left with the silence, not knowing what to do with it.
The night’s getting colder, and I’m in a thin t-shirt. I slide down the door until I’m on my butt and I hug my knees to my chest, rocking back and forth as goose bumps claim my exposed skin. The frigid air helps me feel numb. I stay out on the porch until Kane comes to bring me back inside.