Chapter 10
Tristen
It’s only been thirty minutes, and yet I’ve cracked my knuckles so many times, they ache. My knees bounce. There’s this unease swirling inside my chest. This thought curling around my head that I refuse to listen to.
I drag in the deepest breath I can manage for what feels like the hundredth time so that I can feel the burn.
Force myself to hear the music behind the lyrics of the song playing.
There’s a twinge to the guitar, each string a strike battling against the smooth voice singing the lyrics that I ignore.
I don’t know when I closed my eyes, but when the song evens out, lowers, I crack them open.
And there he is.
Dripping strands cover red-rimmed eyes and touch his pink nose, curl around his ears in a mess that touches just above his shoulders.
“There he is,” I rasp though I don’t mean to and clear my throat. Force my lips to tip up. Let the relief fill my chest.
“I-I’m sorry,” Emmett mutters and twists his hands together, the sleeves pulled tight around his fists.
“What for?”
His throat moves with a swallow, the movement dropping my gaze to the way my hoodie rests around his collarbone and something in my gut twinges.
It’s my favorite one.
It’s still soft despite the amount of times I’ve washed it, worn it. The inside still just as cozy as the day I got it. It’s my comfort on a shit day.
Which is why I let Emmett borrow it.
He sniffs, rubs a fabric-covered knuckle below his nose, and shrugs.
“For disturbing you,” he whispers, and my brows meet.
“You didn’t, bub. I was waiting for you.”
Wide eyes flick to mine for a beat before he steps closer, shuffling on light feet until he’s in front of the far end of the couch.
“Why?”
My chest clenches.
“Why not?” I counter and hop up, gesturing to the couch. “Get comfy. However you want. I’m gonna get snacks and then we’ll watch a movie.” I move around him, desperate to shake off some of this weird energy that’s taking up residence in my torso before it chokes me, and head to the kitchen.
It’s been eating me alive since I saw the man standing in my living room on his bathroom floor and I don’t think it’s going to get better until I know he is. I don’t even know if that’s possible, if I’ll ever know for sure, but I guess I’ll just keep him around until I do.
Even if that means forever and a day.
There’s not much left in the cupboard; just some expired toaster pastries next to the dwindling loaf of bread, a swipe of peanut butter left in the jar, and an open bag of cheddar chips I’m pretty sure my roommate stole from the corner store.
Popping a couple slices of the bread into the toaster, I grab a plate and wait for the expected ejection to scare the shit out of me.
It does like it always does, and I mutter a curse to the wallpaper.
Grumbling as I smear the last bit of peanut butter on the too-hot toast, I plate it and fill my arms with rest of the shit I found.
Rounding the corner into the living room, I jolt to a stop.
Because Emmett is standing right where I left him, staring at the couch and looking downright lost.
“It’s not gonna bite you.” He jumps. “Shit, sorry.”
“I-I didn’t know where you wanted to sit,” he rushes out and steps back like he’s about to bolt.
“Here, take this.” I all but shove the plate of toast into his hands and push the coffee table back with a socked foot. Unloading my arms, I drop between the table and the couch right on the dark carpet. “This is where I sit.” It’s not. “The whole couch is yours.”
Snagging the remote, I busy myself with pulling up a streaming service and start scrolling through the titles like I give a shit about most of them. It’s Hat’s account, so most of the list is rom-com shit or horror flicks that he’s already made me sit through a thousand times.
My best friend is a complicated man.
“What’s your favorite movie?” I ask absently and start unrolling the top of the chip bag. The crinkle is loud and obnoxious, but so is the immediate trailer playing once I stop too long on a movie.
I’m crunching on a mouthful when I turn to Emmett for an answer, only to find his wide gaze flipping between the TV and the bag of chips in utter horror.
“What’s wrong?”
He’s still standing there. Still looking like he’s about to run. The plate in his hands shaking with his white-knuckled grip.
“Em?”
Something on the TV slams and he jumps nearly out of his skin, flipping the plate up and sending the toast flying in my direction.
I manage to catch it peanut butter side down, the paste smearing all over my palm and between my fingers.
“Ah, shit.” I bite the crunchy corner to pull it from my palm while I use my free hand to turn down the volume on the TV.
I scroll so a less obtrusive trailer plays when I set the remote down and sink my teeth through the rest of the bite.
“I’ll make you another one, but we’re out of peanut butter. ”
Pushing to my feet, I take the empty plate from the frozen Emmett and set it on the table.
His eyes dart all around my chest; his pumping with heavy breaths as I stand here, close enough to feel the puffs of it through my shirt.
Waiting him out, I rip off another bite and chew.
“Its … how …” He swallows hard, those sweet eyes raking over my chin. “No one’s gonna be mad?”
The round of thickness in my throat is hard to get down.
“No bub,” I say softly. “It’s just you and me.” Dipping so that I can catch his gaze, I twist my lips into a grin. “I’m not mad. You mad?”
He shakes his head. Looks back down.
I nod.
“Okay. Then we’re all good. No one’s mad and we get to do whatever the hell we want.”
His eyes flick to mine and some of the tension releases in my chest.
“O-okay.”
That tension? Yeah, it snaps free when Emmett moves around me and drops onto the couch. He pulls his knees up and wraps around them, curling into the smallest possible version of himself, but fuck if it doesn’t ease something inside me to see him take the seat anyway.
“More toast?” I ask and a beat passes before he finally turns to look up at me with eyes that make my stomach whoosh.
“Okay.”
In my head, I’m pumping my fist.
On the outside, I give him a soft smile, a genuine one, and nod.