Page 27

Chapter 27

Zack

Emilie’s in my apartment for the first time, and I’ve got to be honest, I thought it’d be with less clothes and heaviness.

Ever since Friday, I’ve done nothing but think about her. Wondering if she’s safe, if she’s pacing her hallway, checking her pulse. She has infiltrated my brain with no signs of leaving.

She sits on my navy-blue velvet couch, the vibrancy of her curls contrasting as she tips her head.

“You would have velvet furniture,” she muses, running her hands on the sides of where she’s sitting. “I love this color.”

“I like color. And soft things,” I say as I sit down across from her, wanting to give her space.

The silence is awkward for a few seconds, before I jump right in.

“The video. Not my finest moment,” I say while rubbing my hands together, before cracking some of my knuckles. “I know when people have things leak like this, the first question is always how could they be so stupid? I'm not stupid but sometimes I'm reckless, but usually only when I’m at risk. We didn’t record everything—like, being naked on film, not good—but I wasn’t dumb enough to go all the way.”

I’ve thought about what I was going to say, even tried practicing it a few times, because I feel like I get one chance to make it right.

“I don’t like that it came out for my own personal reasons, obviously, but I hate that it made you feel bad. ”

Emilie nods. “I appreciate it. Really, I do. But it wasn’t fair for me to take this thing that happened to you and make it about me. That was selfish.”

Well, fuck. I didn’t even think of it that way.

“Thank you.”

“Are you doing okay?” She leans forward, taking me in.

“Yes. I mean, not ideal, but we both consented. I had to talk to Tripp about a statement from When We Play . Again, the timing with the youth event could’ve been better.”

“Okay, if that changes. I'm happy to listen without judgment.”

“Thank you. Seriously.”

I pause for a few moments, making sure my thoughts are in order before continuing. “I googled a lot the last few days about OCD and intrusive thoughts because I want to understand it. I want to understand you. Even reading it hurt because I can’t imagine you going through this regularly.”

Emilie’s cheeks redden. “That isn’t part of me I try to share with too many people. I know it’s a lot to take in or take on. The whole thing is complicated, and I’ve worked hard at coming to terms with it, just myself, and telling people about it is a whole other thing.”

Basically, she feels like too much. This is something that takes up too much space.

“I can’t tell you how to feel ,but it’s not too much for me. You’re never too much for me. You always seem to be just enough.”

She stops, frozen, eyes searching for something specific.

“That’s one of the kindest things anyone has ever said to me.” Surprise is in the lines of her face.

"If you need more room, I’ll make it.” I look around my apartment. “There’s lots of room here. Take as much as you need.” I laugh at the heaviness .

Emilie scratches her arm, the red marks bright on her milky skin.

The weight is in the silence swirling around us, making it hard to breathe. It feels like my mind is stuck on one thing. The question I asked her and the one she never answered. The one I need an answer to.

She takes a breath but holds it in, like she wants to say something but doesn’t.

Fuck. Here goes nothing.

“Emilie. I’m going to ask you again. If this,” I point between the two of us, “is fake, then why were you so upset?”

She tilts her head, her lips pressed in a thin line, like she’ll do anything to keep her mouth closed. Her eyes, intense and almost completely green instead of hazel, go from mine to the floor, and back to me again.

“I’m not sure.” She says it like a question.

“Do you want me to guess?” I’m surprised how badly I want her to say yes.

“No. Not really,” Emilie answers much too fast, immediately covering her eyes after.

I sigh, leaning back. “Why not?” I don’t want to put my cards on the table, until I know this won’t ruin what we have. No matter what, I can’t lose her, even if we’re just friends.

She takes a deep breath, one where I watch her stretch into it. The seconds between us are like a snowball that’s being rolled down a hill, getting bigger and bigger—more substantial.

“Because I'm afraid you might be right.” She stands, and I feel like she’s looking for a place to pace in my apartment.

I walk over to her and she stops, her arms crossed and pushing her shoulders damn near her ears. When her eyes meet mine, it’s like the air leaves my lungs. She’s so fucking beautiful, no matter how unsure of herself she is.

I take one step and being this close to her, without touching, is torture. I raise one hand and lightly touch under her chin, her skin hot under my fingers, and tip her face up to mine.

“This is against the rules,” she says, her voice quiet, as she looks around the room. “No touching if we’re not in public.” Her voice is breathy.

“It’s your rule to break, EJ.” I'm so close I can smell the vanilla from her lip balm. “I propose a new rule. Why don’t we do what feels right?”

I catch my breath after offering my suggestion—the rule to basically have no rules.

“What feels right for you?” Her voice is quiet enough that a whisper would most likely be louder.

I look at her eyes, golden and like they’re shining for me, and to her lips. It’s unlike me to hold back, not go for what I want. Holding back is killing me.

“Right now, it feels like if I don’t kiss you, I’ll never fucking forgive myself.” My voice comes out like I’m begging. I hate being in limbo. Do what you’re going to do and deal with consequences, or don’t—but make a decision. “But to be honest, that’s how it always feels when I’m with you.”

Her eyes sparkle at the confession. Me telling her how badly I want to kiss her. It’s almost like she didn’t think I felt what she does. I know why she’s so jealous, and I’d be the same, if not worse, but one of us has to say it.

“Then do it.” She bites her lip in the brief second between her giving me permission and my mouth landing on hers.

I kiss her the way I promised myself I would if I ever got the chance. Like she deserves. Like I’ve thought about her perfect fucking lips for months. I try to put all the pent-up feelings of wanting to do this for so long, this and so much fucking more, in this kiss.

Her lips press into mine—fucking finally—smooth like silk. When she smiles into me, I almost combust. It’s like my skin is about to burst into flames and she’s the gasoline. I’m not afraid of catching fire. Instead, I want to.

It’s soft, urgent, needy, and electrifying all at once.

When she opens her mouth, just enough for me to brush my tongue with hers, she tastes like vanilla and citrus. My hands go into her hair, those curls—the ones I dream of. I lean into her, and she lets me. Her back arches, pushing her hips into mine, and she moans into my mouth.

My arms wrap around her lower back, I dip my knees, and then pick her up. At first, her legs are straight off the floor, until she wraps them around my waist. I walk her to the bar off the side of my kitchen and set her ass on it.

That perfect ass.

I kiss her with my hands on each side of her, keeping my dick far away from the bunched-up area of her jersey dress. I’ve never been turned on like this while wearing so many clothes. I don’t trust my dick any closer to her.

I put my forehead to hers and when she looks at me, I can barely breathe.

“You can’t look at me like that,” I say, not breaking eye contact, because that look is about to be my new obsession.

“Or what?” she asks while grabbing a fistful of my shirt, pulling me as close to her as I could be.

I bite my lip, stifling my laugh at her attitude. “I’ve been waiting too long to kiss you, to have you like this, and I need to take my time. Frantically fucking you on this bar doesn’t go along with that plan.”

She laughs and throws her head back, her hand still gripping the fabric of my shirt .

“I want to take my time with you,” I repeat, and she’s not laughing anymore. I’m surprised by how serious I sound. I wrap a curl around my finger and pull, letting it bounce back.

Emilie doesn’t say anything else before putting her arms on my shoulders, wrapping me up and putting her lips back mine. She trails her tongue along the seam of my lips, and I open for her. She moans again, and I know those are something I’ll chase for as long as she’ll let me. Maybe even longer than that.

It’s like I'm starved for her. Every inch. Every sound. Every piece of her.

My mouth moves from her lips to her neck, turning her head with my hands in her curls, to kiss the soft spot behind her ear. She slowly tilts her head.

“That,” she releases a quick breath, “feels so good.”

I nip and nibble, and then I float my lips right in front of her skin. She’s practically panting and almost hits my mouth with the heaving of her chest. I lightly blow before placing soft, intentional kisses.

Emilie turns my face by putting her hands through my hair, scratching my scalp with her nails, before lightly pulling them down the front of my neck. The whole time, her lips are locked on mine and I don’t ever want to find the key.

This moment is a place I know I’ll go to in my dreams. For fuck’s sake, my brain even knows I’m being insufferably sweet, but this moment? It’s everything.

We separate, and she wraps her arms back around me and I hug her, my hands splayed on her back.

She puts a hand on my chest and creates a little space between us. “You kissed me,” Emilie says, wearing a smile that would stop me dead in my tracks.

“You kissed me back,” I say .

“Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t know for sure… but I fucking dreamed that you would.”