Read Cherry Red Summer (Emely and Elyas Book 1) for Free Online Page B

an only child, Alex had taught me long ago how to share—unfortunately I was usually the one doing the sharing when it came to food. Jamming my fork into her hand as it crept over would have been overkill. But, hey. You’ve got to look out for number one.
    As we ate, Alex couldn’t talk about anything besides my ominous e-mailer, and I couldn’t help looking over my shoulder—just to be safe, of course. Alex displayed a level of optimism I definitely couldn’t share. She kept trying to convince me to respond.
    “What do you have to lose?” she asked. My last bit of pride , I thought, but kept that comment to myself.
    The subject didn’t change until we reached the bus stop.
    “You want to hang out tonight?” she asked.
    “Unfortunately, I’ve got a shift at the bar later,”
    “Lame!” she mumbled. “Fine. Text me if the bar’s dead and I’ll come by and keep you company.”
    “OK, good idea. Then you could finally meet Nicolas. We’re working the same shift tonight.”
    “You mean Nicolas ‘Jam-it-past-Eva’s-uvula’ Nicolas?” She grinned.
    “That’s the one,” I said with a laugh that quickly subsided as I recalled the scene. Bleagh!
    My disgust didn’t last long, because a sudden noise distracted me from the images in my head. It was the sound of a car engine approaching. Deep. Loud. Roaring. Dirty. Unmistakable. I got goose bumps and stood there thunderstruck. I turned my head slowly and realized my ears had not been mistaken: a Mustang. They’re rare enough in Germany, but this was no ordinary Mustang. This was a 1960s Shelby GT. Black as night, with two fat white stripes starting at the front of the long hood, skipping the windshield, continuing over the roof and down the back. Seeing a car like that on the street in Berlin bordered on the miraculous. I couldn’t believe it. That was my car.
    My dream car.
    I almost swooned.
    I wasn’t that into cars in general, but this wasn’t just a car; it was the most awesome, breathtaking form of locomotion that existed. Nothing else held a candle to it. Someday—I didn’t know when—I would be the proud owner of just such a Mustang. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in a year—but someday, for sure.
    I took in every detail so I could relish this special moment for as long as possible. Then the unimaginable happened: the car slowed and seemed to head right for us. It finally stopped only a few meters away. My eyes slowly scanned the body. I was mesmerized. It was so close I would only need to take a few steps to touch it.
    The engine rumbled quietly, almost purring, and I felt as though I had fallen in love. Suddenly the motor fell silent. As the driver’s door opened, I prayed that a hot young guy would emerge, saying, “Hi, my name is Luca.”
    Instead I was treated to the searing stab of a knife in the back. The world could not be this cruel.
    I stared at the driver. Hot and young applied, but I definitely had not mentioned ass in my prayer.
    Elyas Schwarz. Oh God, I think I’m going to puke!
    That prick was driving my dream car. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
    He walked toward us with a stupid grin on his face while I ran through potential murder scenarios in my head. I decided on the most excruciating option but then realized that unfortunately, I lacked the physical strength to carry it out.
    God, I truly lacked the words to express how pissed off I was!
    Maybe it’d be enough to just knock him unconscious. Enough time for me to nab his keys and disappear with the car, anyway.
    Wait—was I envious of Elyas? No! It could not come to this! Let him keep his shitty car.
    His shitty ol d . . . breathtakingl y . . . gorgeou s . . . bucket of bolts. I grumbled and bit my lip.
    Besides, what was he doing here, anyway?
    “Elyas!” Alex called to him cheerfully.
    Traitor. I couldn’t even rely on my best friend.
    “Hey, sis,” he said and gave her a little hug.
    If I hauled off now and whacked him across the side of the head with my