A Girl and Her Wolf (Howl, #7) by Jody Morse, Jayme Morse Page A

him marrying her mom.
    Colby glanced over at her. “Me and my dad never really did that much together when I was younger, honestly. Soccer was probably the only thing that ever bonded us at all.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” Emma replied, sensing that he didn’t really want to talk about his family. Not that she really wanted to talk about hers, either. She searched her head for something else to talk about and found herself asking, “So, what’s it like? To not care what everyone thinks about you?”
    He seemed surprised by her question, but he shrugged. “I guess it’s just a matter of only worrying about what you think and what you want. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
    Emma laughed. “Maybe, but I don’t think people would really believe it. I mean, this is me we’re talking about. All I’ve cared about for the past few years is what I can do to improve my social status,” she admitted. “Can you believe that I had to lie to my friends about where I was going today? I told them I was going away to visit family for the weekend.”
    Colby’s face seemed to fall a little with this information. “But why ?” he questioned. “I mean, I get it—you want to be cool. But is taking private classes at an art studio really that uncool? In a way, wouldn’t it make you more superior to the people who haven’t taken them? You get to learn things that they don’t,” he pointed out.
    “That’s one way to look at it,” she agreed. “But my friends don’t seem to think that I should do anything to better myself academically. And as far as hobbies go, they think my only hobby should be shopping. Though I am better at it than anything else,” she said, cracking a smile.
    “I would be willing to bet that you’re good at lots of things,” Colby said. “I mean, you’re really good at art. You probably have lots of other hidden talents, too. In fact, why don’t you sing something for me?”
    She eyed him curiously. “Why?”
    “Just sing something,” he told her. “Sing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.”
    “If you want me to sing, you’re going to at least need to choose something I actually know,” Emma replied with a laugh.
    “What about ‘When You Love Someone’ by Bryan Adams?” Colby asked, glancing over at her.
    She shook her head.
    “Please don’t tell me I’m going to need to choose something by Britney Spears or Black Eyed Peas or something,” he replied with an eye roll.
    “Well, I would probably know one of those songs. But how about ‘I Will Always Love You’ by Whitney Houston?”
    “Okay, I can deal with that,” Colby agreed.
    Glancing around to make sure that no one was watching, she belted out the chorus of the song at the top of her lungs. It echoed throughout the field around them. She turned back to Colby. “Well? Why did you want me to sing?”
    “Oh, no reason,” he replied, glancing down at his shoes awkwardly.
    “Tell me,” she insisted.
    “Well, I just thought that you might be a really talented vocalist and that maybe you should try out for American Idol or X Factor , but . . . I was wrong.” He met her gaze. “You should maybe stay away from those shows.”
    “Gee, thanks,” Emma said, elbowing him in the ribs playfully.
    He laughed. “I’m just saying. I wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself or anything.”
    “So, what do you do? In your free time, I mean?”
    Shrugging, he replied, “I play soccer. I hang out with my friends. I take art classes. That’s about it.”
    “What about your love life? Do you have a girlfriend?”
    He shook his head. “No.”
    “Is there anyone you’re interested in?” Emma pressed.
    Colby hesitated. “Yeah, I think so.”
    “Have you told her?”
    “No,” he replied flatly.
    “Why not?”
    “Well, I just don’t know if she likes me,” Colby replied. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself.”
    “What happened to only worrying about what you think?” she asked pointedly.
    “You got me there.” He