Something We Never Imagined

By Douglas J. Wemple

Something We Never Imagined is a story about an intriguing country boy named Colton Dust who moves to Los Angeles to study journalism at USC after graduating from high school in his small hometown. A few years after graduating with a degree in journalism, he finds himself quickly rising up the ranks as a news columnist in LA when his first column at a smaller newspaper catches the eye of the Editor in Chief at the largest newspaper in LA. However, just as he is finally achieving success in his career, he happens to meet a beautiful young woman named Emma Lee Coal who begins to stir something inside of him he had not felt in a long time, but in order to open his heart, he has to encounter a painful experience still haunting him from his past. Even though Emma Lee is initially enchanted by his charming looks, she quickly finds him a bit brash and self-centered. Yet, she also finds herself intrigued to learn more about why he believes what he does, she just isn’t sure if she’ll ever see him again after their first encounter. Then after a twist of fate brings the two of them together again, she begins to help him experience the healing power of forgiveness, but as his life hits a crossroad point, he must decide if he truly has faith and trust in God in order to experience something he never could have imagined.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Apr 28, 2022
• ISBN: 9781664257337

Douglas J. Wemple

Douglas J Wemple was born in Michigan and resides in Florida. He began writing his debut novel after reaching a crossroads in life, where he felt God calling him to follow a new path, which resulted in his first book, Something We Never Imagined. When not writing, he enjoys spending time with his wife Amanda and his three children, Elijah, Noah, and Kylie. He is currently working on writing several more novels and looks forward to this new journey, with God by his side.

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Copyright © 2022 Douglas J. Wemple.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying,

recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system

without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

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Bloomington, IN 47403

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or

links contained in this book may have changed since publication and

may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those

of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher,

and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are

models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

All Scripture quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, English

Standard Version® (ESV®), Copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing

ministry of Good News Publishers. All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-6642-5731-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-5732-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-6642-5733-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022902414

WestBow Press rev. date: 04/28/2022

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1 Something Is in the Air

Chapter 2 Something Is Brewing

Chapter 3 Something Is Calling

Chapter 4 Something Is Blossoming

Chapter 5 Something Is Moving

Chapter 6 Something Is Spinning

Chapter 7 Something Is Colliding

Chapter 8 Something Is Learning

Chapter 9 Something Is Rolling

Chapter 10 Something Is Cooking

Chapter 11 Something Is Winning

Chapter 12 Something Is Tingling

Chapter 13 Something Is Giving

Chapter 14 Something Is Bonding

Chapter 15 Something Is Soaring

Chapter 16 Something Is Kindling

Chapter 17 Something Is Awaking

Chapter 18 Something Is Roasting

Chapter 19 Something Is Hurting

Chapter 20 Something Is Discovering

Chapter 21 Something Is Understanding

Chapter 22 Something Is Forever

Chapter 23 Something Is Possible

Afterword

This novel is

dedicated to my wife, Amanda Wemple. I

never could have accomplished drafting this story without

your inspiration guiding me to open my heart, my mind,

and my soul through complete faith and trust in God.

—Douglas J. Wemple

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank my wife, Amanda, for always being the rock in my life. Every time I have stumbled, faltered, or failed; you have always been there to help me find my footing. You have continued to pick me up repeatedly, and I can never truly express just how much you mean to me. I love you with all my heart. You are my forever!

Thank you to my three children, Kylie, Elijah, and Noah, for being the most wonderful kids a father could ever ask for in this world. They have kept me on my toes over the years, but they’ve also molded me into a better version of myself.

Thank you to my mother, Judy, for always being there to support me over the years, through the good times and the tough. I could not have reached this point in life without her unconditional love and support.

Thank you to my brother, Greg, and my sister, Pam, for being two of the best older siblings I could have ever asked for. I love you both!

Thank you to Brandon Vanderhorst, my best friend since we were five years old. We have shared so many amazing memories over the years, and Brandon has always been there to encourage me in life. Thanks for being such an incredible friend!

Thank you to my dearly departed friend Eric Fox, who helped me find my way back to Christ at a time in my life when I needed it most. I would be lost today if it wasn’t for Eric!

Thank you to my friend Paul Worster for always being there for me with a kind word and a loving heart, especially when I needed it most!

Thank you to my good friend B-j Shue Chapman, for encouraging me to continue to follow my heart and publish my first novel. Thank you for your help and support.

Thank you to my friend Richie Compton for always being a great friend to cling to during particularly challenging times over the past few years, and especially for the special gift you gave me: my first novel cover.

Thank you to my friend Michelle Yon for the amazing author photos you took for my first novel.

Thank you to my pastor at Orlando North Church, Rob Duford, for filling my heart with a message from God, which inspired me to draft this story. Thank you for always being there for our family!

Thank you to everyone at WestBow Press, a division of Thomas Nelson and Zondervan, for helping get this new journey in my life launched.

Most importantly, I would like to thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, for opening my heart to true faith and trust in Him, through the fruits of the Spirt. My soul is blessed through the love that Jesus has for me, and my goal is to spend the rest of my time here on Earth following a new path upon which, I feel in my heart, He is leading me.

1

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Something Is in the Air

After being awoken by the noise of a buzzing alarm, a young man named Colton Roderick Dust reached for his phone while thinking, Surely, someone must have called while I slept. Even though it may not have been typical for him to worry about anyone calling so early in the morning, this was no ordinary day. In fact, this appeared to be the day Colton had been dreaming about since moving away from his little hometown six years earlier.

Outside Colton’s tiny studio apartment, it was a beautiful crisp fall morning in the early hours of Tuesday, September 22. Throughout the neighborhood, friendly residents had begun to wake from their nightly slumber, and as a gentle breeze ruffled the old trees, thick green blades of grass glistened with soft droplets of morning dew. The tranquil sounds of hummingbirds chirping songs of praise could be heard cascading through the air as vibrant streaks of golden sunshine peered over the eastern horizon across the City of Angels.

Soon the massive metropolis would rumble with sounds of man-made clatter echoing well out into the Pacific for miles and miles. Yet on this peculiar morning it seemed as if something unexpected was circulating in the air. A sensation engulfing the entire area making this day quite different from most others. What that something was, however, well, that is something no one ever truly knows—or do they?

Down along the lovely streets of Culver City, a young paper carrier strolled the neighborhood sidewalks delivering newspapers to the doorsteps of the city’s precious residents. While an elderly gentleman who had wrinkles lining his face from years of laboring in the hot Californian sun sat perched along the top step of his apartment building walkway.

While patiently waiting for his daily newspaper to arrive the wrinkled resident glanced down the street and noticed the young paper-slinger approaching his walkway. After taking a couple swigs of his black coffee, he beamed at the young lad advancing up the sidewalk. With a smile on his own dimpled face, the young boy handed the aging gray-haired gentleman a newspaper before touching the brim of his baseball cap.

Thank you, my fine young man!

Oh, you’re welcome, Mr. Edwards. I hope you have a wonderful day. The young paper-slinger smiled before walking toward the next set of doorsteps.

Mr. Edwards unfolded the paper and read the black ink filling up the front page. While scanning through the pages, he glimpsed a particular column. He noticed it was an article written by one of Culver City’s most notable young new journalists. While chuckling inside, Mr. Edwards thought, Hmm, this is an interesting article.

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As Colton was coming to his senses after a night of much-needed deep sleep, the brilliant rays of sunshine streaked through the opened blinds of his front window and a jolt of excitement coursed through his veins. While still in bed, he could feel the contrast of his cool gray fabric sheets against his skin under the warming comfort of his fuzzy green blanket. After rolling on his back and rubbing his eyes, he pulled the blanket back and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. A cool burst of air from a fan in the corner tingled his toes as he placed them on the floor. After stretching out his arms high and wide, Colton yawned and rubbed the back of his head, his mind trying to grasp how great he imagined it would be.

Returning his attention to his phone, Colton wondered why he did not have any missed calls. He scratched his head, and the thought vanished as he sprung up from the edge of the bed with excitement in his veins, cascading to the soles of his feet. Even though he was a twenty-five-year-old man, on this day, Colton felt like a child who had awoken to the splendor of a wintery Christmas morning.

Walking into the bathroom with a little extra spring in his step, Colton thought about how he could not wait to get to work. After shaving a few hairs dotting his chin, he washed his face and hands, then strolled over to the kitchen cupboards. The pale-colored cupboards, counters, and floor tiles were original to the apartment when it was built, in 1974. On the countertop, the coffeemaker, toaster, and waffle maker were all placed in their own precise location, and inside the cupboards and refrigerator, the dishes and food had been meticulously organized.

Colton grabbed a spoon, a bowl, and a box of cereal out of the cupboard and placed them on his tiny kitchen table. The table only had a seat for one person, but Colton never figured there was a need for anything more than that. After walking over to the refrigerator and yanking out an expired half gallon of milk, Colton took a quick sniff, but he ignored the sour smell, the gears in his mind already turning. Focusing on the excitement ahead, Colton plopped down at the kitchen table and poured some cereal into the bowl, then splashed a little milk over the top.

While chomping on his cereal, Colton glanced around the room before smiling inside at the sight of a nearby photo. His studio apartment was a modest dwelling. The walls inside were a shade of off-white, the carpet a sandy-tan color, scattered with tiny brown specks. It might not have been the most appealing living space in LA, but that did not matter to Colton. Truth be told, he was convinced his fortune would change once his writing career took flight, but for now, he enjoyed the fuzzy carpet between his toes. It reminded him of the flush green grass surrounding his childhood home back in Northern Michigan.

In surveying the one-room studio, it was easy to notice that Colton lived a simple yet organized lifestyle. The only items in view included a framed copy of his degree from USC and a wall painting of a sprawling cornfield next to a red barn, both of which hung on each of the main living room walls. There were also two photos placed on each side of his television stand. One was a photo of his sister, Jessie, with her two daughters on the Silver Lake Sand Dunes, and the other was of his parents, Peggy and Bud, at their thirtieth wedding anniversary.

While munching on another bite of his fruity cereal, Colton peeked down at his cell phone and, once again, wondered why no one had called. After another bite, he pondered it further and thought, Doesn’t anyone care about what I have accomplished?

His thoughts shifted to the reality of just how hard he had worked to accomplish one of his goals as a writer, even if others were not calling to congratulate him. Feeling a sense of pride, Colton knew in his heart he had a deep desire to craft worthwhile pieces of writing, using his words as art—that is what mattered to him the most.

While swallowing another big mouthful of his now-soggy cereal, Colton glanced over at the laptop on the other side of the table. With thoughts about his next story swirling, he pulled the laptop closer and typed a few quick notes. Glancing down at the words, he leaned back in his seat. Once again, he reminisced about all the diligent effort he had poured into his studies at USC, efforts he believed had led him to this point in his career. Colton also thought his achievements were most impressive when considering he was just a small-town country boy who now worked in LA as an up-and-coming columnist.

Even though it did not seem like it had been six years since he moved thousands of miles from his small hometown of Ludington, Michigan, to the massive city of LA, it had been. But on this day, all his hardships appeared to be worth it, especially considering the life-altering heartbreak he had experienced before leaving his small hometown—the type of soul-searching heartbreak that could have crushed his dreams and sidetracked him from achieving one of the two things he wanted most in life. However, instead of allowing the experience to squash his dreams, Colton rechanneled his focus and moved forward, never looking back. Colton believed he had finally crawled out of the disaster of his past to accomplish what he had always hoped to achieve—the opportunity to be a well-recognized writer.

As Colton chewed his last bite of cereal, there was no doubt he would relish in the triumph of his accomplishments—even if no one else wanted to share his moment. However, at that exact moment, his cell phone rang. Picking up his phone, he wondered if perhaps his mom or sister was calling to congratulate him. After glancing at the number, he noticed it was a call from the Sunset Gazette.

Hello, he answered, leaning back in his chair.

Hey, Colton. It’s Troy. How’s it going today, Mr. Top New Columnist?

Colton could barely contain the excitement in his voice as he answered his editor-in-chief, Mr. Troy Glass, I’m great, Mr. Glass. How are you this morning?

Well, Colton, let me tell you how I’m doing this morning—I’m doing fantastic! Your column we printed this morning is already getting a lot of attention from our readers, and that makes me excited!

Oh! Colton exclaimed, a smile bursting on his face.

Yup, and I can’t wait for you to get to the office so we can talk about your next article. I’ve got a couple ideas for your follow-up, but I’d like to hear your thoughts first.

Elated that Mr. Glass wanted to hear more about the direction he hoped to take with his next piece, Colton smiled.

Sure thing, Mr. Glass. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Pausing for a moment to recall what he might have forgotten, Colton realized, I just need to grab a cup of coffee on my way in because I’m all out here at the house.

Sounds great. I can’t wait to see you when you get here.

Okay, see you soon.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Colton headed back to the bathroom to finish grooming himself for what he considered a most memorable day. He could barely contain the excitement bubbling up in anticipation of what the day held.

After taking a shower, combing his sandy hair, and brushing his pearly white teeth, he strolled out of his bathroom wearing only a pair of black dress socks and red boxer briefs—not the most stylish image for a young man who believed he was on the cusp of greatness, but Colton had also not grown up a GQ city boy, so he thought a bit of quirkiness in his new LA style was forgivable. He pulled out a pair of black dress pants, a sky-blue dress shirt, and a navy-blue sports jacket that had black stripes checkered across the jacket. After slipping on his clothes, he stood in front of the mirror and cinched his tie up to his neck, then sat back down at the edge of his bed to slip on a pair of black dress shoes. After tying the shoes, he grabbed the messenger bag off the dresser and swung it over his right shoulder before tucking his sports jacket under his arm. Then he made his way toward the front door, where he grabbed his keys off a stand before opening the door.

While Colton walked down the hallway of his complex, he noticed his sweet old neighbor, Ms. Williams, rocking out on her small front patio. She was holding her cat, Pumpkin, in her left arm while stroking the fluffy black and sandy marbled fur along his backside. Ms. Williams was an elderly black widow who Colton was often seen petting her cat this way while resting in her patio chair. Perhaps it was the warm feeling it gave her, which she certainly needed, considering she had lost her husband, John, to cancer only six months earlier. Her sweet twelve-year-old calico cat, Pumpkin, did his best to help keep her company now that John had passed.

Colton may have been the youngest resident in his apartment complex, but he enjoyed the elderly individuals who nestled into their warm and inviting living spaces around him. For Colton, something about the elderly made him feel whole inside. Maybe it was the wisdom that came with age that they sought to bestow upon him, or perhaps it was the stories they liked to tell, which always seemed to transcend the barriers of time. Whatever it was, Colton always enjoyed his interactions with seniors.

Good morning, Ms. Williams. How are you and Pumpkin doing this morning?

Well, we’re doing just fine. Just mighty fine. She smiled, pausing a moment to set down her coffee. And how are you doing today?

I’m doing great. Thank you so much for asking, Colton said, a smile etched across his glowing face. I’m just really excited to get to the office today!

That’s great to hear. Well, I hope ya have yourself an amazia’ day.

As Colton walked down the stairs, Ms. Williams called out, Oh yeah, by the way, darlin’, when is that important news article of yours gonna be in the paper?

Colton always loved Ms. Williams’ voice, with the sweet Deep South Mississippi drawl.

Pausing for a moment, he glanced back in her direction. "They published it in the Gazette this morning. Beaming with pride and wanting to be sure Ms. Williams would read his first column article, Colton asked, Would you like me to grab you a copy while I’m at work?"

Oh no, dear, that’s okay. My son Marcus brings me a copy of the paper every day, so I’m sure I’ll get a chance to read it later, she replied, peering back at him with her sweet southern smile.

Okay, Ms. Williams. I hope you and Pumpkin have a wonderful day. I’ll see you later.

As Colton continued to walk down the stairs, Ms. Williams shouted, Uh, you too, Colton. And I sure hope people like your article. I know I can’t wait to read it!

Still smiling, Colton continued to make his way down the stairs, which led out to the carport where his red 1949 Chevy pickup truck was parked. Even though Old Red was forty-five years older than he was, Colton kept it running like a top. They did not make vehicles like they used to, so keeping it in decent shape over the years meant he never had to worry about having reliable transportation. Old Red held a special place in Colton’s heart because his father, Bud, had driven it before passing it down to him when he turned sixteen years old. Even though he might have seemed out of place driving a ’49 red Chevy pickup truck around the bustling streets of LA, Old Red reminded him of home. So far away from home, all by himself, he enjoyed the sensation he got behind the wheel of Old Red. He also figured that if Old Red was still running, he would keep on driving it.

As Colton approached the bottom of the stairs, he passed by Mr. Edwards, who was sitting on his front steps.

Good morning, Mr. Edwards. How are you doing on this lovely day?

Good morning, Colton.

"I see you are reading the Gazette. Anything good in there?" Colton asked, fishing for compliments about his column.

Sure is, Mr. Edwards replied. Then with a hint of polite cynicism in his voice, he added, That’s a mighty interesting column of yours I just read.

Mr. Edwards was another elderly resident who lived in the same building as Colton. Like Ms. Williams, he had also lost his loving spouse, Martha, who had died from a heart attack a couple of years earlier, before Colton moved there.

Colton sensed his ego bubbling up to the surface like bath bubbles filling up an old county tub. It seemed like his neighbors were such kind and inviting individuals, and he thought, Certainly they must appreciate living next door to an up-and-coming journalist!

Well, thank you Mr. Edwards. I appreciate that, Colton replied. Mr. Edwards nodded before glancing back at his newspaper while rolling his eyes.

Nestled in the suburb of Culver City, Colton’s apartment complex was not the most appealing place in town. The years had not been gentle on the building, but it was only a twenty-minute drive to his office in downtown LA, at least on a good day, and that was more important to him than the look of the place where he laid his head down at night. The complex was home to a plethora of senior citizens, all of whom enjoyed the peaceful quietness of the neighborhood. Most of them were still healthy enough to care for themselves, so they relished the opportunity to spend their days sharing each other’s company in their tranquil little community. Colton had visited downtown Culver City numerous times during his four years at USC, and he always liked the serenity of the local community. However, it was not until after his graduation from USC that he called this quaint little neighborhood home. Colton was at peace in his neighborhood, especially since he could work on his writing here with no interruptions when not in his office.

Down the street from where he lived was an immaculate neighborhood park, offering walking trails, sports fields, and a skateboarding area. There was also a fenced-off area where people could let their dogs roam and frolic. It was a place where local families could enjoy quality time together, but for Colton, it was one of his favorite spots to view the City of LA.

He would often go with his laptop to a favorite spot, perched high on the rocky edge, overlooking the massive city skyline, where he would tap the keys of his keyboard. It was there that he hoped to weave his words into a tapestry of skilled art using meaningful pieces of thought, same as an artist would use colors to paint an elegant masterpiece on a canvas.

On the corner of Colton’s block sat a stony oatmeal-colored church with blue shutters, blue steps, and blue doors. The church also featured a large cross mounted at the front edge of the roof, high above the entrance. It was small but still spacious enough for everyone in the neighborhood to attend Sunday service each week. Although it was not the place that you would ever find Colton as his work had become his highest priority in life. After growing up in a small town in Northern Michigan, this tidy neighborhood block in Culver City was like a little slice of home.

Even though Colton was currently working as a journalist for a small newspaper in downtown LA, since his first year at USC, he had been driven by the hopes of one day writing articles for the largest newspaper in Los Angeles, the West Coast Herald. Over the past couple of years, he figured achieving his goals as a writer would surely show everyone back home how he had made something of himself despite what happened right before leaving for LA. Now, thanks to his most recent accomplishment at the Sunset Gazette, he was well on his way to achieving the success he had so long desired—and in one of the greatest story cities in all the world!

Colton opened Old Red’s door, tossed his blue sports jacket and messenger bag onto the passenger seat, and climbed inside. Before backing out of the car port he cranked up the volume on his old turn dial radio to one of his favorite songs playing on his favorite local radio station, 107.4 KLAD. Unable to contain the excitement brewing up inside, Colton sang aloud with the chorus.

Because I’m happy. Clap along if you know what happiness is to you. Because I’m happy. Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do.

While belting out the chorus to the song, Colton thought, This must be the greatest day of my life!

Even though there were good reasons for Colton to feel so happy, he had no way of foreseeing, not even in his wildest dreams, the life-changing moments he was about to experience. Events that would alter the story of his life in ways he never could have imagined, not even in an amazing story-rich city like LA.

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Miles away, in a small two-bedroom apartment near downtown LA, a beautiful young lady named Emma Lee Coal slept on her queen-size mattress. Sprawled across her bed were pale peach satin sheets, laid out underneath a fluffy down-filled blue blanket.

The walls of her room displayed Art Deco creations she had collected over the years, including two vibrant pieces that her favorite artist, Cecily Brown, had designed. Emma Lee was fond of Brown’s use of abstraction to explore the powerful relationships between males and females. The vast array of colorful mixtures comprising Cecily’s pieces spoke to Emma Lee’s heart while also lighting up the walls of her room.

On the wall above her bed hung a frame that displayed a picture of a gravel path with the words, Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths (Proverbs 3:5–6). There was also a poster of Michael Bublé, her favorite artist, hanging on the inside of her bedroom door. On her dresser sat a photo of her grandma Emma Sue, who had passed away a couple of years earlier. Next to the photo was an old wooden cross on a stand. Emma Lee adored her grandmother and was proud that the first part of her name was the same as her grandmother’s. As Emma Lee lay in bed sleeping in a land full of hopes and dreams, a loud knock echoed from the other side of her bedroom door.

Hey, Emms, a voice called out from the other side, you wanna grab some coffee with me? We are all out, and you know how I get when I don’t have my coffee in the morning.

Emma Lee peeked with one eye, figuring she could ignore the intrusion if she were quiet. However, after closing her eyes, there was another rapping of knocks.

Ugh, really, Lily! Emma Lee sighed. You realize this is the only morning I get to sleep in for the next few weeks, right?

Come on Emms, Lily cried out. I really, really need some coffeeeeeeee!

Lily was not only Emma Lee’s roommate but also her best friend. She was also the only person Emma Lee would ever let call her Emms for short. The two had met while attending college at Pepperdine University, and although they hadn’t been roommates in college, they enjoyed each other’s company. After graduation, Emma Lee had experienced some heartbreaking situations, one of which caused her to struggle a bit. So, Lily asked her to move in, and the two of them had continued living together ever since.

While still in bed, Emma Lee enjoyed the smooth, cool softness of her satin pillowcase pressed against her face as she pushed a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. In a nearby corner, a fan oscillated, its cool breeze causing her to tuck her toes back under the covers while pulling the blanket over her head.

Do we need to go right now? Emma Lee huffed from under the covers. I wanted to sleep in.

Yeah, I know, I know, and I’m sorry. But I can’t function without my coffee. I need to do a few things today, so can you please, please get up and go to the Brew Cup Café with me? Pretty please, Emms. I promise you won’t regret it. Lily sighed while placing her hands on her hips. Hey, after all, it’s the first official day of fall, and you know what that means.

Without Lily even finishing her sentence, Emma Lee was aware of what she meant. The first day of fall signaled their favorite local coffee shop, the Brew Cup Café, was now serving pumpkin spice lattes—for a limited time only, of course—so she realized what she needed to do.

Yeah, I know what that means, Emma Lee muttered as she swung her legs off the edge of her bed. Okay, you got me on that one. I’m getting up. Just give me thirty minutes to get ready.

Lily gasped. Thirty minutes! I can’t wait more than five, let alone thirty. Just put on a tee shirt and some shorts, toss your hair up in a ponytail, and let’s go already!

I can’t go to the Brew Cup looking like I just rolled out of bed.

You’re killin’ me, Emms, Lily yelled as she placed hands on top of her head. Can you please just open your door, and I’ll help you out!

As Emma Lee crept over toward her bedroom door, the chill of her fan tingled her toes as it circulated air around the room. She unlocked the door, turned around, and quickly jumped back in bed before pulling the covers over once more.

As Lily thrust open the door, she noticed Emma Lee was crawling back into bed. What do you think you’re doing? Lily said. She walked over to the side of the bed and yanked off the blanket. Get up right now. I’ll help you find something to wear.

Emma Lee swung her feet back over the side of the bed again while Lily walked over to the closet and grabbed a blue Dodgers T-shirt off the hanger. And after opening the dresser drawer, Lily grabbed gray shorts and tossed them both on the bed next to Emma Lee.

Here you go. Just put this on.

I can’t wear that to the Cup!

Exasperated Lily, glared at Emma Lee with a smirk. It’s not like you have anyone to impress. We just need some coffee, girlfriend!

Lily stomped back over to the closet and noticed a pretty knee-length yellow casual dress, highlighted by a beautiful flower print throughout.

Here you go, Emms. How about this? It’s perfect for fall. Now, let’s go get a pumpkin spice latte!

Emma Lee grabbed the yellow dress and walked into the bathroom. Standing in front of the sink, she grabbed a ponytail and put her hair up. Then, after she washed her face and brushed her teeth, she stared at herself in the mirror. Emma Lee had long, beautiful sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, like glimmering crystal-clear blue water. She also had a well-toned frame that showcased her strong but not bulky physique. Her skin tone was not quite pale, but it was light enough that it turned a shade redder than tan after spending a day outside in the LA sun. One of Emma Lee’s most dazzling features, however, was her smooth, silky legs, which she often showed off by wearing shorts, skirts, and mid-length casual dresses. She also had a cross tattoo inked into the side of her ankle, which she had gotten after her grandmother passed away. Anyone who truly knew Emma Lee was keenly aware that she had a sweet and sensitive soul and a heart of gold, most likely inherited from her grandmother. She was fun-loving and funny, with a playful and sometimes even sassy spirit. In her own mind, she thought of herself as a bit shy and reserved when in the company of strangers or acquaintances.

After walking out of the bathroom, Emma Lee walked back to the bed, where she sat down and slipped on a pair of sandals.

Now, let’s go! Lily exclaimed, standing there, glaring at Emma Lee.

I’m coming, I’m coming, Emma Lee replied, still groggy.

As Emma Lee walked out of the bedroom, following Lily, she smiled at the sight of her best friend. Lily, a few months older than Emma Lee, also had a well-toned frame that was strong but not too muscular. However, Lily had chestnut brown hair and radiant brown eyes to match, and her skin tone appeared more olive than Emma Lee’s, which meant she had no problem tanning in the bright LA sunshine. Growing up, Lily was very athletic and always enjoyed sports with her younger brothers and the other neighborhood boys. As a tomboy, she was as tough as nails, and anyone who met her could tell that about her immediately. Her style appeared chic when it needed to be, but she also enjoyed relaxing in