Read Online Any Other Girl by Rebecca Phillips - Free Book Online

enough juice to send a quick text.
    Â 
    Shay, please talk to me. Let me explain.
    Â 
    To my surprise, a response arrived two minutes later.
    Â 
    Nothing to explain. I’m blocking you now. Leave me alone.
    Â 
    I tried to send another text, another appeal, but the signal had been cut off once again. Frustrated, I threw my cell on the bed and flopped down beside it, tears stinging my eyes. One party, one misunderstanding, and our friendship was over. She had been one of my last female friends, the last one to disregard the rumors and give me a chance to prove myself. And I’d failed. Horribly.
    At least I’ll always have Harper , I thought, wiping the moisture from my face with my pillow. She was my cousin, sure, but also my friend. Possibly my only friend, depending on whether my classmates’ negative opinion of me died out or gained traction over the summer.
    After a while, I stopped crying and started formulating a plan. Harper just needed a little push, like Pop had said, and it was up to me to give her one. Maybe orchestrating someone else’s relationship would stop me from constantly wrecking my own.

chapter 7
    B y ten o’clock the next morning, the plans were in motion. First, I called Nate McCurdy at his cottage to ask if he’d be willing to help. After a few lewd comments I chose to ignore, he readily agreed. Next, I talked to Harper. I had to propose a slightly edited version of my plan in order to get her on board, but hopefully she’d forgive me later if everything worked out.
    The only thing left for me to do was convince Emmett.
    At the lake, there were only two ways to effectively get in touch with people: call their landline or walk over to their cottage and see them. Since I didn’t know Emmett’s phone number, I slipped on a pair of flats and headed over there.
    The first thing I noticed as I approached his cottage was that someone had ripped up Mrs. Canting’s prized sunflowers. The second thing I noticed was the yelling. Two separate voices, one male and one female, trickled through the open windows and echoed across the yard. I couldn’t quite work out the specifics of the argument, but it sounded like World War Three. For a second I considered turning back, but I really needed to secure plans for tonight and Emmett was the final corner piece I needed to complete the square. I was banking on his cooperation.
    Determined, I crossed the driveway and stepped up to the door. Hesitating for only a moment, I knocked firmly on the weathered wood. The fighting ceased as if by magic, and the door was flung open to reveal a tall, red-faced man in a blue Polo shirt and shorts. “Yes?” he barked.
    I gaped at him for a few seconds, speechless. He was breathing hard, as if he’d been interrupted in the middle of a workout instead of a screaming fight.
    â€œHi!” I said, attempting to muster one of my wide, toothy smiles. I couldn’t quite manage it. “I’m looking for Emmett.”
    He glanced over his shoulder into the house where I could see an outline of either a young girl or a very tiny woman. “He’s not here. I think he went out for a run.”
    â€œOh. Right. Okay, I’ll just come back later then.”
    â€œAnd you are?” he asked, his dark eyes sweeping over my beribboned ponytail and polka-dotted blouse like I was some kind of freak of nature. Or a time traveler from the fifties.
    â€œKat Henley,” I said, thrusting my hand out.
    He stared at it for a moment and then shook it briefly.
    â€œI live a few cottages that way.” I pointed in the direction of our cabin.
    â€œI see. Well, I’ll tell Emmett you came by.” And with that, he backed into the house and closed the door behind him.
    I stood there for a minute, trying to piece together what had just occurred. Obviously, that had been Emmett’s father—he had the same multi-colored hair and perfectly straight nose. But