8. Rock
8
ROCK
“I am so . Freaking . Sorry .” Emily buries her face in her hands, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I can’t believe my mom acted like that.”
I crack open the beers I just pulled out of my fridge for us—a much needed drink after the dinner we just had. What a weird fucking evening. Mostly I just feel bad for Emily, though. The whole thing has really mortified her.
Emily forces her hands down from her face to accept the beer I’m offering. “I bet you’re regretting agreeing to this fake dating thing, aren’t you?”
“It’s fine, Em.” I lean back against the counter and take a swig of my beer. “Man. Your mom really wants you to get married, huh?”
Emily groans, setting down her untouched beer so she can hide her face behind her hands again. “I can’t believe she started talking about wedding venues!”
I reach out to urge Emily’s hands down from her face. “Hey. Don’t be embarrassed about it. It’s really not a big deal.”
“I’m so sorry,” she says again, looking at me with big round eyes.
“Stop. Seriously. It’s fine .” I pause. “Just make sure she doesn’t put down a deposit at any of those venues she was raving about.”
Emily laugh-groans. “Oh my God. I wouldn’t put it past her. Ugh. If I ever do get married for real, she’s going to be a nightmare, isn’t she? My wedding is going to end up being more of her taste than mine.”
The thought of Emily actually getting married to someone sends a surge of jealousy through my veins. I know it’s not right of me. She deserves to be happy. I want that for her.
But I can’t imagine watching her exchange vows with anyone. That would be pure hell.
“Hey,” she says, poking my arm.
I focus on her. “Yeah?”
“You just got a faraway look. Where’d you go?”
“Nowhere.”
“No, you definitely went somewhere.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You were thinking about the bar, weren’t you?”
Normally she would be right. I do think about the bar a lot. Probably too much. “Nope.”
“Hmm.” Her eyes narrow as she evaluates me. “What then? Sex?”
Hearing that word fall from her lips almost makes me choke on my spit. I shake my head. “Uh, no.”
She drums her fingers on her chin. “Well, I’m stumped. What else do you even think about in that he-man brain of yours?”
Oh, she’s in a snarky mood now, is she? Fine. I’ll give her a little taste of her own medicine.
“I was thinking about how much of a bridezilla you’re gonna be, Em,” I say.
Her mouth drops open. She folds her arms across her chest and continues to gape at me. “Take that back.”
I give her a small unapologetic smile.
“Take it back!”
I fake a yawn and start to turn away. “God, I’m beat. I’m gonna head to bed.”
“Rock! You jerk.” She grabs my hand and pulls me back. I can’t help but laugh when I see her face. She’s so adorably riled up from my comment, and it’s hilarious.
“Do you seriously think that about me?” she asks, looking genuinely hurt. “That I’m going to be a bridezilla?”
“No. I don’t.” I stop laughing and pull her into me for a hug. Her curves press against my body and I try to ignore how good it feels. “I’m just teasing you, Em. I couldn’t let you get away with calling me a he-man.”
“Sorry,” she mumbles, relaxing against my chest. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know.”
“Thank you for being a good friend.”
“And fake boyfriend,” I remind her.
She laughs softly, still leaning against me. “Yep. And fake boyfriend.”
“And soon-to-be fake husband, if your mom has anything to say about it.”
She laughs again. Then, slowly, she pulls her head off my chest. When she looks up at me, there’s something different in her eyes. I can’t tell what it is, but I know how I’m feeling in this moment. My feelings for her pulse in my chest. I’ve spent so many years keeping my desire for her locked away, and most of the time it’s something I can manage. But right now the pain is sharp and raw, knowing that I can never act on these stifled feelings.
Emily’s expression goes through several micro-shifts as she looks up at me. She wets her lips, and then her lips part ever so slightly. Her brows dip a little like she’s trying to figure something out, then relax. Then her chin tilts up ever so slightly.
I inhale a breath as she tilts her chin up more and closes the space between our mouths.
The kiss she gives me is slow, tender. I’m in shock as it happens. I can’t believe it’s happening, now, finally, after all these years—and how much better it is than I’ve imagined. Her lips are so damn soft, her mouth is—
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, pulling away. She takes a step back from me, quickly pulling out of my grasp. “I don’t know what I was doing. I’m—shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. That was a mistake.”
I want to tell her there’s nothing to apologize for. That I’ve wanted this, wanted her , for so fucking long. That I’m basically a man obsessed. But the words won’t come. Her kiss has stunned me into silence.
And the look of regret on her face pains me to my core.