Chapter Six Getting to know you pt 2
Em barely had time to park her car before Travis was already outside, waiting for her with a smug grin. She chuckled as she stepped out, stretching her arms.
"Wow, you actually showed up early. I'm impressed." Em teased, shutting the car door.
Travis rolled his eyes before immediately pulling her into a warm hug. "Of course, I did. Someone has to do all the heavy lifting, and it's certainly not going to be you."
Em scoffed. "Excuse me? I am fully capable of lifting things. I'm just, you know, managing my energy."
"Oh, is that what we're calling it now?" Travis smirked, already moving toward the trunk of her car. "Alright, let's see what we're working with here—" He popped the trunk and immediately froze. "Good Lord, Em, are you moving in or opening a department store?"
Em waved him off. "Oh, relax. It's just the essentials."
Travis raised an eyebrow as he pulled out three bags, all labeled with different variations of 'skincare' and 'haircare.' "Essentials? This is an entire Sephora aisle. Do you even have clothes in here, or is it just fifty shades of moisturizer?"
Em gasped dramatically. "How dare you? I'll have you know I only brought the necessities."
Travis reached back in and pulled out a curling iron, a flat iron, and a hairdryer. "Three different hair tools? Seems excessive."
"One curls, one straightens, and one makes sure my hair doesn't look like I got electrocuted. They each serve a purpose!"
He shook his head, laughing. "Yeah, yeah. Help me carry this stuff before I regret offering. Also, please tell me you didn't leave anything at Chase's."
Em grabbed a duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder. "Nope, surprisingly, I took everything. Even my favorite mug."
Travis snorted. "Priorities."
They made their way upstairs to the penthouse, where Travis swung the door open with a grand gesture. "Welcome to your temporary kingdom. Three bedrooms, three bathrooms, and about as much personal decor as a furniture showroom."
Em stepped inside and immediately smirked. "Wow. This is exactly what I expected. A true bachelor pad. Leather couches, huge TV, minimal decorations—oh look, a sad little plant in the corner. I'm guessing it's fake?"
Travis crossed his arms. "It's real."
Em poked one of the leaves. "No, it's not."
Travis sighed. "Okay, fine. But in my defense, real plants require effort."
Em walked further in, eyeing the massive sectional and the giant gaming setup. "And I see you've invested in the essentials."
Travis smirked. "Damn right. Priorities, remember?" He motioned toward the kitchen. "Speaking of, I stocked the fridge for you. So you won't have to live off takeout like some kind of gremlin."
Em opened the fridge and gasped. "Travis! There are actual vegetables in here! And fresh fruit!"
Travis placed a hand on his chest dramatically. "I know. I deserve a medal."
She grinned. "I feel so special."
Travis leaned against the counter. "Alright, enough about my incredible hosting skills. How are you doing? I haven't talked to Chase since your text. Figured I'd ask you first before listening to whatever nonsense he has to say."
Em sighed, leaning against the kitchen island. "Honestly? I'm okay. It's weird, but I think I'm actually okay."
Travis studied her for a moment before nodding. "Good. You deserve to be. But Em, listen—" He rubbed the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically serious. "You don't have to act like you're fine if you're not. You don't have to be strong all the time. If you need to cry, you can cry. Hell, I'll even offer up my shoulder for it. No judgment."
Em smiled softly, touched by his sincerity. "I appreciate that, Trav. Really. But I think I'm good."
Travis gave her a long look before sighing dramatically. "Alright, but the shoulder offer is a standing one. No expiration date."
Em chuckled. "A true friend."
Travis smirked. "Damn right. Now, let's finish bringing your Sephora explosion upstairs before I change my mind about helping."
After several trips up and down the elevator, they finally finished unloading Em's things. Travis collapsed onto the couch with an exaggerated groan. "Alright, that was a workout. I feel like I just did CrossFit."
Em scoffed. "You carried, like, three bags."
"Three very heavy bags," he corrected, rubbing his arms. "I demand compensation. And by compensation, I mean you coming to the bar tonight. Free drinks, on me."
Em shook her head with a small laugh. "Tempting, but honestly, I just want to sit on this couch, eat something unhealthy, and watch trashy TV."
Travis gasped in mock horror. "Let me guess. Vanderpump Rules?"
Em grinned. "Obviously."
Travis groaned. "Why do you willingly subject yourself to that chaos? It's like watching a reality show inside of a dumpster fire."
Em shrugged. "Exactly. It's a train wreck, and I love it."
He sighed dramatically. "I swear, if I come over and hear you yelling at the TV over someone named Jax or Stassi, I'm revoking your couch privileges."
Em patted his arm. "Oh, Travis. You know you're going to end up watching it with me."
Travis groaned again but didn't argue. "Fine. But only if there are snacks. And if I get to judge everyone on screen without you getting mad."
Em smirked. "Deal."
To thank him for helping her move in, Em decided to make Travis lunch. She quickly threw together two sandwiches, setting them on plates before placing one in front of him.
Travis eyed it suspiciously. "Wait... did you poison this?"
Em scoffed. "Wow, so ungrateful."
Travis took a bite and groaned. "Okay, fine, this is actually good. You're safe—for now."
They ate and chatted about upcoming plans, with Em talking about setting up her space and Travis mentioning some events at the bar. After finishing, Travis stretched and stood up. "Alright, I gotta head out. Work calls. But if you change your mind, free drinks are still on the table."
Em rolled her eyes playfully. "Noted."
Travis shot her a wink before heading out. "Don't go too hard on the reality TV meltdowns."
As Em shut the door behind him, her phone buzzed. She glanced down at the screen and nearly choked on air when she saw Henry's name.
Henry: What's your go-to comfort food? This is important research.
Em blinked. Em: Do I even want to know why?
Henry: Because if I ever need to cheer you up, I need to know what snack to bring. Duh.
Em snorted. Em: Mac and cheese. But you don't need to bribe me.
Henry: Not yet, but I like to be prepared. Also, do you prefer flowers or chocolate? Or, plot twist, a mysterious third option?
Em shook her head, already knowing this conversation was going to be ridiculous. Em: I feel like this is leading somewhere absurd.
Henry: Have some faith in me, Emilia. This is serious business.
Henry:If you had to enter a talent show, what would your act be?
Emilia snorted, shaking her head before replying.
Emilia: Reading a book at an incredibly fast speed while giving judgmental glances at the audience. Maybe throwing in some dramatic page-turning for flair.
Henry: Riveting. Truly, the crowd would be on the edge of their seats.
Emilia: Obviously. What about you?
Henry: Magic tricks. But really bad ones. Like, you can clearly see me pulling the card out of my sleeve, but I still act like I just performed a miracle.
Emilia: So you'd be a magician and a comedian. Impressive.
Henry: Thank you, thank you. Next question—if you could have dinner with any fictional character, who would it be?
Emilia hummed, considering her options before typing.
Emilia: Elizabeth Bennet. We'd sip tea, talk about books, and maybe gossip about Mr. Darcy before I force her to admit she's totally in love with him.
Henry: Solid choice. I'd go with Tony Stark. I feel like I'd leave that dinner a billionaire.
Emilia: Only if you survive the sarcasm.
Henry: I can handle sarcasm. Bring it on. Next one—what's a hobby you love but haven't done in forever?
Emilia hesitated, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Emilia: Painting. I used to love it, but I haven't done it in years.
Henry: Why'd you stop?
Emilia: Life got in the way, I guess. It just... faded out of my routine.
Henry: That's a shame. You should pick it up again.
Emilia: Maybe. One day.
Henry: I'm holding you to that. Alright, next question—what's a weird but oddly specific thing that makes you happy?
Emilia smiled.
Emilia: The sound of rain hitting the window while I'm reading. It's like nature's soundtrack for introverts.
Henry: That's a great one. Mine is finding money I forgot about in my pocket. Past me just funding future me's happiness.
Emilia: A gift from yourself, to yourself.
Henry: Exactly. Last one—favorite fruit. No pressure, but your answer will define our friendship.
Emilia: Strawberries. Easy.
Henry: Gasp Excellent choice. You have passed the test.
Emilia: Oh good. I was worried.
Henry: As you should be. Alright, I'm done interrogating you. For now.
Emilia: I'll brace myself for round two.
Henry sent a winking emoji before Emilia set her phone down, a small smile lingering on her lips. It had been a long time since she'd had this much fun just talking to someone. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't mind this little interrogation at all.
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A few hours later, Emilia's phone buzzed again. She glanced at the screen and laughed when she saw a picture of an empty plate.
Henry: What do you think I should eat?
Emilia: Air. It's low-calorie and high in disappointment.
Henry: Wow. Inspirational. But I was thinking something with actual substance. How hungry do you think I am?
Emilia: Knowing you? Starving. Probably on the verge of collapse. Any second now, you're going to start hallucinating food dancing in front of you.
Henry: Damn. You know me too well. Quick, what should I eat before I start trying to bite my phone?
Emilia: Something delicious. Like a big, juicy burger with crispy fries and a milkshake.
Henry: I was thinking cereal, but now I suddenly feel like I deserve fine dining.
Emilia: You always deserve fine dining. But I know you're probably just going to eat a granola bar and call it a meal.
Henry: ... No comment.
Henry: Okay, next round of questions—what's your favorite movie?
Emilia: Ice Princess. Don't judge me.
Henry: Oh, I'm absolutely judging you.
Emilia: I regret nothing. I always wanted to learn how to ice skate, but I was too scared to try.
Henry: That's actually adorable. What stopped you?
Emilia: The fear of falling on my face in front of strangers. I like to be effortlessly cool at all times, obviously.
Henry: Understandable. I, on the other hand, used to go horseback riding.
Emilia: No way! I've never done that before.
Henry: Really? Add it to your bucket list. I'll take you sometime.
Emilia: You promise?
Henry: Of course. But only if you promise to at least try ice skating one day.
Emilia: ...Fine. But if I fall, you're not allowed to laugh.
Henry: No promises.
Emilia: Henry!
Henry: What? It's part of the experience.
Emilia shook her head, grinning as she typed back. Somehow, she didn't mind the idea of making a fool of herself—at least, not if Henry was there to laugh with her instead of at her.
Henry: Alright, last few questions before I officially pass out. Do you believe in love?
Emilia: Yeah, I think so. Maybe not the love-at-first-sight type, but the kind that grows over time. What about you?
Henry: I do. I think love is real, but it's also a choice—something you work at every day.
Emilia: That's really sweet.
Henry: I have my moments. Next question—do you think all is fair in love and war?
Emilia: Absolutely not. There have to be rules. Otherwise, it's just chaos.
Henry: So no stealing someone's last fry in a relationship? Not even if you really love them?
Emilia: Okay, maybe some things are fair. But only if I get to steal their fries, too.
Henry: I respect the balance. Alright, last one—what's one thing you want to do before you die?
Emilia: Travel somewhere completely new and just get lost for a day. No plans, no schedule. Just adventure. What about you?
Henry: Ride in a hot air balloon at sunrise.
Emilia: That sounds amazing.
Henry: We'll put it on the bucket list. Alright, I should probably sleep before I text you something embarrassing.
Emilia: Like what?
Henry: Like admitting you're my favorite part of today.
Emilia felt warmth spread through her chest.
Emilia: ...Goodnight, Henry.
Henry: Goodnight, Em.
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