36. LIAM
36
LIAM
Now
It’s a female voice.
Sirens go off in my head. Great, it’s probably Natalie. This is one way to blow up things, Liam.
They said Emerson’s name quietly enough that it might have been Natalie. It’s dark enough where they stand that we are all outlines of each other.
I’m praying it’s not Natalie, or maybe I want it to be her. I want to end all of this here right now. I’m no longer hiding that I’m crazy about the girl standing before me, and I won’t ever be able to feel the same about anyone else.
I push off the wall, releasing Emerson from my grasp. Her fortress wall snaps back into place.
I hear their footsteps get louder as they inch closer to us. The dim hallway light acts as a spotlight when they step into it.
Chloe.
“What the hell is happening here?” She demands.
“Nothing—” Emerson tries to say.
“Uh-huh. Sure looks like nothing is going on.” Chloe turns to face me. “And I was just learning to warm up to you. I suppose you don’t want to explain why you have the wrong girl pushed up against the wall, your face a misstep away from hers.”
Wrong girl—she’s not the wrong girl; she’s the right girl, wrong time.
“She could be the right girl,” I say under my breath. Emerson’s eyes cut back to mine.
“Liam—” Her eyelids are fluttering.
“Could be, but you won’t admit it. This was a mistake.”
“Huge mistake,” Chloe snidely remarks. I know she’s protecting Emerson, and I appreciate her loyalty to her. But where’s Natalie?
“Liam, stop—don’t.” Emerson reaches out for me.
Taking a page out of her book, I leave. She didn’t stay then. I’m not staying now. The double meaning of walking away aside, I should walk away right now and go back to the table, turning this into our new unfortunate norm. Walk away from the feast of emotions that are on the table, too afraid to remove the lids to dig in and indulge them.
I’m halfway down the hallway before I turn back toward them.
“Don’t what? Walk away? Leave? Learned from the best.” I don’t acknowledge their responses. I head back to the table.
“Did you see Emme back there? She’s been gone awhile,” Natalie asks me with concern.
“I didn’t see her. Probably in the loo.”
“Oh,” she says as if she could see through my lie. “Chloe went after her. I hope everything will be alright.”
I don’t think anything will ever be alright. A conclusion I don’t want to come to but might have to force myself to. She, Emerson, isn’t letting this go. What I said, what she overheard. I hurt her in the one way that she’s always feared.
Cal scowls down at me from the end of the table.
“Everything good?” he mouths.
I shake my head, picking up a slice of pizza that was delivered to the table while I was in the bathroom.
Emerson is walking back to the table, head and shoulders folded in. Chloe is a few steps behind her and looks. . .I think a look of confusion, maybe frustration. Her smokey facial expressions are hard to read.
Chloe sits back down. Emerson does not.
“I’m not feeling well. Think I’m going to head home,” Emerson announces.
“Oh, no!” Natalie says first. “What’s wrong? ”
“Headache.” Emerson’s eyes swivel in my direction.
“Hm, okay. Do you want to take any food home with you? I can ask for a to-go box,” Natalie offers.
“I don’t have much of an appetite. You know how I get when I have a headache,” she responds.
“Right.”
“Feel better,” I add.
Emerson doesn’t acknowledge me as she picks up her purse and exits the restaurant.