Chapter 6
Kade
THE CLOCK ON THE wall ticks with maddening precision, each second dragging into the next like it’s being pulled through mud.
I stretch out on our parents’ leather couch, remote in hand, flipping through channels so fast the images blur together in a meaningless stream.
Lulu whines at my feet, her golden head heavy on my knee, sensing my restlessness.
It’s Saturday night, and it’s been two hours since Emmett’s date with Serena started.
Two hours of me pretending I don’t care what’s happening in the guest house across the garden. Two hours of failing at that pretense.
I stop on some mindless action movie—explosions, car chases, muscled men with guns. Except I can’t focus on a single scene before my mind wanders back to Emmett and Serena. Are they still eating dinner? Has he used the lines I taught him? Are they making out yet?
I switch channels again, landing on a cooking competition where someone’s soufflé is collapsing in real time.
“Fucking disaster,” I mutter, not sure if I’m talking about the soufflé or myself.
Lulu nudges my hand with her wet nose, breaking my spiral. I scratch behind her ears absently, her fur soft beneath my fingers. Her tail thumps against the hardwood floor in appreciation.
“At least you’re happy with the bare minimum,” I tell her. She gazes up at me with those liquid brown eyes, content with simple affection. Must be nice.
I grab my controller from the coffee table and boot up the PlayStation.
Maybe shooting zombies will keep my brain occupied.
The game loads, and I blast away, my fingers pressing the buttons with unnecessary force.
Ten minutes in, I realize I’ve died three times because I keep zoning out, imagining Emmett’s hands on Serena.
“Fuck this,” I growl, tossing the controller aside. Lulu perks up at my tone, head tilted.
She pads over to the kitchen and sits by the treat jar, looking back at me with hopeful eyes.
“Not a chance, girl. You heard what Emmett said. You’re getting chubby.”
Lulu whines, pawing at the cabinet, a master manipulator in fur form.
“Don’t look at me like that. I’m just following orders for once.” I get up and fill her water bowl instead. “Emmett will have a fit if I cave again.” Just saying his name sends another ripple of unease through me.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table, and I lunge for it with embarrassing eagerness. Just a text from some girl in my art history class asking about Monday’s assignment. I respond with a quick “no idea” and toss the phone back down.
What would Emmett be doing right now? The playlist I made would have reached that slow Weekend song by now.
The one with the beat that makes you want to press closer to someone, slip your hands under their shirt.
My gut clenches at the thought of Emmett dancing with Serena in the low light.
His hands might be on her hips, her arms around his neck.
And that’s if they’re still upright. They could be on the couch by now. Or worse, his bedroom.
The image flashes unbidden in my mind—Emmett’s broad swimmer’s shoulders above her, his face buried in her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. The fantasy is horrifying and intoxicating, and I hate myself for picturing it.
My fingers drum a violent rhythm against the armrest. I pick up my phone again, scrolling mindlessly through social media, not seeing anything. Outside, the wind picks up, rustling through the trees and rattling the windows. The weather too is restless tonight.
I switch back to the game, but I’m even worse now. My character gets swarmed by zombies as I button-mash with aggressive indifference. The red “YOU DIED” screen mocks me for the fourth time.
Lulu, dejected by my refusal to give her treats, has settled into her bed in the corner, watching me with judgmental eyes.
“What? Like you’ve never had a bad night.” I glare at her. She huffs and puts her head on her paws, unimpressed with my attitude.
I try the TV again, landing on a UFC fight. Two sweaty guys grappling on the mat, one trying to submit the other. Usually, I’d be into this, but tonight every move just reminds me of bodies entwined in very different circumstances.
My jaw aches from clenching. I rub at it, forcing myself to relax. This is ridiculous. Why am I torturing myself? I should be happy that Emmett might get laid. Isn’t that what I was helping him with? Wasn’t that the whole point?
I stand up, pacing the length of the living room. I’m acting like a crazy person, and I know it, but I can’t stop.
What happened last night flashes through my mind.
After Emmett fell asleep against me watching anime, I’d held him for a while, his steady breathing warm against my chest. Eventually, I’d shifted him onto the pillow and covered him with a blanket.
I did my best to stick to the opposite side of the bed.
In the morning, he was gone before I woke up.
I pull at my lip ring, playing with it with my tongue. My brain supplies another image: Emmett popping that champagne he asked me to buy this morning. The expensive stuff he sent me out for because he wanted everything to be perfect.
Wait. The champagne.
I stop pacing, a sudden realization hitting me. In all the awkwardness of the day—Emmett avoiding eye contact, me pretending last night never happened—I forgot to give him the champagne.
“Shit.”
I head to the kitchen and open the fridge. There it is, perfectly chilled, nestled between the orange juice and Dad’s kombucha.
I pull it out, weighing the cold bottle in my hand. This is the ideal excuse to check what’s happening. To make sure everything’s…fine.
But should I? If they’re in the middle of something, I’d be the world’s biggest asshole. On the other hand, Emmett specifically asked for this. He’d be disappointed if it wasn’t part of his perfect plan.
I pace another lap around the kitchen island, bottle in hand. Lulu watches from her bed, amused by my indecision.
“This is a legitimate reason to go over there,” I tell her, as if seeking her approval. “I’m being helpful. A good wingman.”
Lulu yawns, unimpressed with my rationalization.
Fuck it. I’m going. He asked for the champagne, and that’s what he’s getting. If I interrupt something, well…they can pause and resume after I leave.
I grab my hoodie from the back of a kitchen chair and slip it on. “Stay,” I tell Lulu, who looks like she might follow. “I’ll be back soon.”
The night air is cool against my face as I cross the garden toward the guest house. Through the windows, I can see the soft glow of what must be the candles and string lights. My stomach tightens as I near the door, champagne clutched in a white-knuckled grip.
I slow my pace. What if they’re…in the middle of something? My pulse hammers in my throat. But I’ve come this far. Might as well follow through.
I knock three times, loudly enough to be heard over any…activity.
“Emmett?” I call out. “Got something for you.”
No response. I knock again, harder this time.
“Emmett? You there?”
Silence. Maybe they’re in the bedroom and can’t hear me. Or maybe they’re choosing to ignore me.
I try the door handle. It’s unlocked, turning under my palm. I push it open, bracing myself for what I might see.
“Hello?” My voice sounds strained. “Just bringing the champagne you asked for.”
The living room is empty, though signs of the date are everywhere.
The candles still flicker, casting dancing shadows on the walls.
Half-eaten plates of food sit abandoned on the table, alongside two glasses of red wine, one with a lipstick print on the rim.
Rose petals are scattered across the floor, leading toward the hallway.
My playlist plays from the speakers—a slow, sensual beat that makes the empty room feel like a still life of intimacy interrupted. The romantic scene I helped create yesterday is both beautiful and painful to see in use.
“Emmett?” I call again, louder.
A muffled sound comes from down the hall. His bedroom. My heart sinks and soars. I shouldn’t go back there. I really shouldn’t.
Emmett’s voice comes through more clearly the second time: “Kade? Is that you? Thank god. Need help!”
My pulse spikes. He sounds distressed. Without further hesitation, I push open his bedroom door.
The sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks.
Emmett lies sprawled across his bed in nothing but tight black boxer briefs, his wrists secured above his head with fluffy white handcuffs attached to his headboard. His normally perfect hair is mussed, face flushed crimson with what looks like equal parts frustration and embarrassment.
“Thank fuck you’re here!” he blurts, the curse sounding foreign on his lips.
I stand frozen in the doorway, champagne bottle dangling from my fingertips, as my brain struggles to process the scene before me. Emmett—uptight, perfectionist Emmett—is almost naked and handcuffed to his bed. And we’re alone.
“What the fuck happened?” I manage.
Emmett gives me a sheepish grin that does something strange to my insides. “Kind of a funny story. Uncuff me first?”
I don’t move, still trying to reconcile the Emmett I know with the one before me now—vulnerable and somehow even more attractive than usual.
His swimmer’s body is on full display, all lean muscle and smooth skin except for a light dusting of hair on his chest that narrows to a thin line disappearing beneath his waistband.
“Where’s Serena?” I ask, finding my voice again.
“She left.” His grin fades.
“Left.” I repeat the words, like they’re in a foreign language. “She left you…like this?”
“Yeah.” He tugs at the handcuffs, the metal clinking against the headboard. “Look, this is really embarrassing. Can you just uncuff me?”
I step into the room, closing the door behind me—a reflexive action, though there’s no one else in the house to see. “Why did she leave?”
Emmett’s blush deepens, spreading down his neck to his chest. “She got…pissed off.”
“At what?” I move closer to the bed, setting the champagne bottle on his nightstand. “What did you do?”
His green eyes meet mine before skittering away. “Can you please just uncuff me? The key’s on the dresser.”
I glance at the small silver key lying on the wooden surface, but make no move to retrieve it. Instead, I place one knee on the edge of the bed, leaning over him. The power dynamic has shifted from our usual interactions, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy it, at least a little.
“Not until you tell me what happened,” I insist, studying his face. “Everything was going great with the dinner, right? I saw the plates, the wine. Looked like you were following the plan.”
Emmett sighs, a deep sound of resignation. “Yeah, dinner was perfect. Everything was going according to plan. She loved the food, the setup, the music—everything.”
“So what went wrong?”
He shifts, the movement drawing my attention to the defined muscles of his abdomen. “Things were…progressing.”
“Progressing.” I raise an eyebrow. “To the bedroom, obviously.”
“Obviously. She suggested the handcuffs. Said it would be fun.”
The image of Serena cuffing Emmett to the bed sends an unexpected spike of jealousy through me. I tamp it down, focusing on the fact that she’s gone, and he’s still here, still cuffed.
“And then?” I prompt, my knee dipping the mattress further as I lean closer.
Emmett’s eyes fix on the ceiling, avoiding mine. “And then I couldn’t…I couldn’t…”
Understanding dawns. “You couldn’t get it up?”
His groan is half frustration, half mortification. “No matter what she did, I just…wasn’t into it.”
I bite back the urge to laugh—not because it’s funny, but because the alternative is examining why this information makes me feel so relieved.
“So she got pissed and left you tied up?”
“No, she was…disappointed, but understanding at first. She thought maybe I was nervous.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “But then she asked if there was something else going on.”
My heart stutters in my chest. “And?”
Emmett finally meets my gaze, his green eyes full of something I can’t quite name. “I told her the truth. That I think I might like…someone else.”
The air between us grows thick. I’m afraid to ask the next question, but I can’t not know.
“Who?” My voice comes out as a whisper.
Emmett stares at me, his eyes saying everything his mouth won’t. And suddenly, I understand.
“That’s when she got pissed,” he continues, looking away again. “She told me I’d wasted her time, that I should have figured out my shit before asking her out. Then she left me like this. Said I could ‘think about my choices’ while I waited for someone to find me.”
“Harsh,” I murmur, but my mind is racing with the implications of what he’s just revealed.
“Kade, please.” His voice has a pleading edge that sends heat through my veins. “The key.”
I shift my position, now fully kneeling on the bed beside him. “Not yet,” I say, surprising myself with my boldness. “I think it’s time for another lesson.”
“Another lesson?” Emmett’s eyes widen, a mix of confusion and something that looks a lot like anticipation flickering across his face. “What do you mean?”
I lean over him, one hand braced on the mattress beside his shoulder, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.
“Well, our previous lessons clearly didn’t prepare you for what to do when you’re handcuffed to a bed.
” I let my gaze travel down his body, taking in every inch of exposed skin.
“So I think we need to cover some advanced material.”