18. Emma
18
EMMA
“Come on, Emma,” June’s cajoles behind me, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. “You've been cooped up in this house for days, moping around like a lovesick puppy. This is exactly what you need—a night out, some good music, and maybe even a little dancing.”
I stand in front of the mirror, trying to get used to my reflection. The dress June picked out for me clings to every curve with an audacity that makes me blush. It's scandalously short, hitting mid-thigh, and the deep red color contrasts sharply with my pale skin.
“I’m not sure a night club’s exactly my scene.” I tug at the hem for the hundredth time, wishing it would magically lengthen by a few inches.
“Stop fussing, Emma. You look amazing,” June insists, her voice firm. She stands behind me, wearing a similar dress, though hers is a deep emerald green, complementing her dark hair.
She has one hand on her hips and the other brandishing a pair of silver loop earrings like triumphant trophies.
“I don't know, June,” I say, turning sideways to examine myself from another angle. “This dress is…a lot. And these heels?—“
“Are perfect,” she finishes for me, a satisfied smile on her face.
“You need to stop arguing and just embrace it,” June snorts, wagging her finger playfully. “You look amazing, and you’re coming out with us tonight. No more excuses.”
I eye the dress with suspicion. It is undeniably flattering. I’m not used to showcasing this much skin. My usual attire leans toward comfort and practicality—jeans, t-shirts, and the occasional flowy sundress. This is a whole new level of “out there” for me.
“Maybe I should just stay home. Ethan…”
“Ethan's having a sleepover at the Michael's,” June rolls her eyes. “There's no escape with babysitting duty tonight. You only use those to mope around, anyway.”
She has a point. The past few days have been a blur of self-pity and unanswered questions. Liam's silence hangs heavy in the air, suffocating me with its ambiguity.
“Okay!” I sigh, still feeling uncertain.
June, seeing a shift in my resolve, pounces. “Exactly!” she crows, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, let's get you glammed up for a night of fun!”
Before I can protest further, June whisks me into a chair at the dresser, and the next fifteen minutes are a whirlwind of makeup application, hairstyling consultations, and hesitant modeling sessions in front of the mirror. With a final flourish, June applies a bright red lipstick. Stepping back, she surveys her handiwork, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.
“There you go,” she declares, clapping her hands together. “You look incredible, Emma! Like a sassy vixen ready to take on the world!” She adds an outrageous wink that sends me doubling over in laughter.
When I look up to study my reflection in the mirror, a stranger is staring back at me. This woman in the fiery red dress looks confident, a hint of a playful glint in her eyes.
Tentatively, I turn a slow circle, the dress swishing around my legs with a soft rustle. It feels different, unfamiliar, yet strangely exhilarating. A nervous flutter dances in my stomach, a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of anticipation.
Just then, Damon's booming voice echoes through the house. “Ladies! Are you ready?”
“Almost there, big guy!” June calls back, “Give us five more minutes!”
June helps me zip up the back of the dress, her touch lingering on my spine for a comforting moment. Then, with a flourish, she hands me the silver earrings. “The finishing touch,” she declares.
As I fasten them in place, June leans in and kisses my cheek. “You got this, Em,” she whispers, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement as she turns around and finalize her own dressing as well.
Taking a deep breath, I steel myself. It is time to face the night, whatever it may bring. I emerge from the room first, finding Damon leaning against the doorway. A whistle escaping his lips as he takes me in. “Wow,” he says, his eyes widening. “Who’s this and what have you done with my sister?”
A flush creeps up my neck, but a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. “Shut up, Damon,” I reply, my voice a little breathless. The unfamiliar high heels wobble slightly beneath me, and I instinctively reach out to steady myself against the wall.
Damon's grin widens. “Whoa there, careful with those stilettos,” he chuckles, reaching out to offer me his arm. “Don't want you injuring yourself before the night even starts.”
I take his arm gratefully, the solid reassurance of his touch grounding me a little. June sashays out behind me, her emerald-green dress shimmering under the soft glow of the hallway light.
“Alright,” she declares, her voice laced with playful impatience. “Let's get this party started!”
We pile into Damon's truck, the familiar scent of leather and faint pine needles filling the air. As Damon pulls away from the curb, the quiet streets of my neighborhood give way to the bustling heart of town. A knot of apprehension tightens in my stomach. My usual Friday night routine involves curling up on the couch with a good book, a mug of tea warming my hands, and maybe an episode or two of my favorite show.
Tonight will be a world of thumping bass lines and flashing lights. It feels exciting, and a little bit terrifying all at once.
We pull up in front of the club, the pulsing music vibrating through the floorboards of the truck. Damon hops out, his usual boundless energy radiating from him.
“Alright, ladies,” he announces, throwing open his door with a flourish. “Let's paint the town red…or green…or whatever color your fabulous outfits are!”
June and I laugh as we step out into the pulsating night. As soon as the club’s door swings open, we’re immersed in banging noise and whirling strobe lights casting the room in a dizzying array of colors. There are quite a number of bodies moving on the dance floor in a hypnotic rhythm, and the air is thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and something slightly more potent that I can't quite place… Maybe the alcohol.
June grabs my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Let’s find a table, Em,” she shouts over the music.
We weave through the throng of dancing bodies, the crowd parting like a wave around us. Suddenly, a familiar voice cuts through the din.
“Damon! There you are, man!”
We stop, and I look up to see Liam walking up to us, a beer bottle in his hand. His eyes are firstly on Damon, and his eyes widen a fraction as they land on me, surprise giving way to a flicker of something I can't decipher.
A wave of anger surges through me. Here he is, looking all casual and carefree, while I've been stewing at home for days. Why the hell is he here?
I look from June to Damon’s faces and immediately realize they’d planned this. With a curt nod in Liam's direction, I turn on my heel and start walking in the opposite direction.
“Emma, wait!” I hear Liam call out behind me, but I don't stop. I push my way through the crowd, the thumping music a dull roar in my ears. Tonight is supposed to be a distraction, a way to forget about Liam. But seeing him here, so nonchalant, has blown that plan to smithereens.
My heart thumps loudly through my chest as I make my way toward the back of the club. I need to get away from Liam, from the sight of him looking like everything is perfectly fine. My heels click sharply against the floor, and I barely notice the curious glances from other club-goers as I storm past.
I find a hallway leading to the restrooms, dimly lit and thankfully quieter. The noise from the club fades into a distant hum as I walk further down, my footsteps echoing in the narrow space. I reach the end of the hall, leaning against the cool wall, trying to catch my breath and calm my racing heart.
The sound of footsteps behind me makes me tense. I turn around to see Liam approaching, his expression unreadable in the dim light. The hallway feels even smaller with him in it, and I press myself against the wall, hoping he’ll just leave me alone.
“Emma, wait,” he says, his voice low and urgent.
“Leave me alone, Liam,” I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”
He stops a few feet away from me, his hands at his sides. “I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” I demand, my voice rising. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because you have to do it first,” he replies, his eyes locking onto mine.
His words take me by surprise, and I falter for a moment. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He takes a step closer, the shadows playing across his face, making him look even more intense. “It means I can’t stop thinking about you, Emma. I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried to avoid you, to keep my distance, but it’s no use. You’re in my thoughts, in my dreams. Every touch, every smell reminds me of you. I’m going mad.”
His confession hangs in the air between us, heavy and charged. I feel a lump rise in my throat as his words sink in. “You’re not the only one, Liam,” I say, my voice shaking. “I feel the same way. It’s like I’m going mad without you.”
He closes the distance between us, his eyes never leaving mine. “Then why are we doing this? Why are we making ourselves miserable?”
“Because you keep pulling away!” I lash out, the frustration spilling over. “You keep pushing me away, and I don’t know why.”
“I’m sorry,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m feeling things I never felt before, and I’m scared of what it means.”
I take a step back, needing the space to process his words. “You think I’m not scared, too? You think this is easy for me? Every time you pull away, it feels like I’m being torn apart.”
“I don’t want to hurt you, Emma,” he says, his voice raw with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt either of us.”
“Then stop running,” I plead, my eyes searching his. “Stop running and just be with me.”
We stand there in silence, the tension crackling between us. He takes another step closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch my arm. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits. “I don’t know how to just be with you without losing myself.”
“You won’t lose yourself,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “We can figure it out together.”
He’s so close now that I can feel his breath on my skin, and my heart pounds in my chest. The anger and frustration are still there, but they’re mingled with something else, something more intense and undeniable. I look up at him, and in the dim light, his profile is achingly handsome, his eyes dark and full of longing.
My body starts to heat up again, the emotions boiling over. It’s crazy how it seems like every of our argument is some sort of foreplay. While we bicker about everything and nothing, the tension builds with each word until it is absolutely unmanageable. Like now. He steps even closer, and the next thing I know, his lips are on mine, and I’m kissing him back with a desperation that’s been building for days.
His hands cup my face, and I press myself against him, my fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss is intense, all-consuming, and I can feel the electricity between us. Our bodies fit perfectly, and it feels like everything else fades away.
We stumble against the wall, and his hands slide down to my waist, pulling me closer. I wrap my arms around his neck, losing myself in the feel of him. The hallway is dark and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the club, and it feels like we’re in our own little world.
Our kisses grow more urgent, more desperate, and I can feel the heat between us rising. His hands roam over my body, and I can’t get enough of him. It’s like every touch, every kiss is a lifeline, grounding me in the here and now.
His arm hooks around my waist as he pulls me closer, grinding his crotch into mine and his tongue into my mouth simultaneously. I twist into him, circling a leg around his waist, pressing tighter, wanting him to devour me right here. He groans as I straddle him, my already short dress hiking further up my thighs. I couldn’t care less right now.
I know he can feel my already wet panties grinding against the imprint of his cock. His kiss becomes hungrier, more frantic as he slides a hand beneath my dress and squeezes my ass hard.
A sweet pressure is growing between my legs. I rub against him sliding along his solid erection, but even that isn’t enough to put out the fire. I whimper into his mouth, desperate for more, desperate to have him inside me.
He suddenly breaks the kiss, and we both stare at each other, wordlessly. Instantly, we start grabbing at the clothes that are in the way of what we really want. In a flash, my panties are pooling down my legs, and his jeans and boxers are round his. He grabs my ass in a firm grip, pulling me to himself and rubbing his hard length across my wet throbbing lower lips. Then, he slides in.
I tilt my hips, welcoming him. He’s already pushing me close to the climax my body desperately wants. As soon as he’s buried to the hilt, I flex my inner muscles, squeezing him hard. He grunts, his eyes flaring.
I suddenly hear voices from the end of the hall, and it crosses my mind that we might be caught here, but I am too far gone to care. I’m buried under the sensations flooding through me, shuddering as sharp pleasure bolts through me with every stroke. He kisses me again, our mouths tangling in a messy dance. I grind hard against him, riding him with feverish recklessness as I chase the orgasm that teases me every time his cock slides against my clit.
The pressure starts to build, and I roll my hips, moaning and groaning into our kiss. His hands grip my ass cheeks with a bruising clench as he bangs me again and again against the wall. Then, I come. It feels like my whole body is shattering into a million pieces of pleasure. I cry out as I hit the peak, and blinding waves of pleasure roll over me. He immediately follows.
“Fuck,” he growls breathlessly.
I watch him come. He closes his eyes, throbbing inside me as he fills me with his seed. I wrap my arms around his neck as waves of pleasure slowly peters out, and my vagina tingles with delight.
“Who’s there?”
The voice breaks our reverie, and we look at each other with wide eyes. Soon enough, the signs of a flashlight fill the hall just behind us. We immediately pull on our clothes, and he grabs my hand.
We laugh as we run toward the backdoor.