Chapter 12 Emma
EMMA
Hanging the last string of twinkle lights in place, I take a step back, hands on my hips as I survey our masterpiece.
Sophia is adjusting a sign reading “Sweet Autumn Delights,” hand-painted in her whimsical handwriting.
Liv is fussing over the last of the displays, adjusting a tray of spiced apple turnovers and sliced pumpkin bread.
We have officially transformed the bakery’s booth tent into a scene straight out of a cozy fall dream.
It’s warm, inviting, and most importantly, filled with the intoxicating scent of fresh coffee and pastries.
It’s a miracle that by five o’clock I haven’t eaten my entire body weight in them yet.
“This might be my best setup yet.” Sophia’s eyes gleam with satisfaction.
“It looks great.” My voice lacks enthusiasm.
I can feel the exhaustion creeping in. I’m afraid of ruining the moment, so I try to shake off the feeling of my chest getting tight and not being able to catch my breath.
I also don’t want to acknowledge the fact that I can feel Alex watching me.
Again. It’s been happening all morning. Every time I glance his way, he's staring and not even in a subtle way. It’s unnerving, and worse?
It makes my pulse do stupid things, not being able to decipher my heart condition from the feeling of knowing he’s still captivated by me.
I pretend I don’t notice his eyes on me, refusing to give him the satisfaction of any kind of physical reaction.
If I look at him, I’ll see that stupid, perfect grin of his.
That's the last thing I need in order to get through what’s left of the day.
The festival kickoff has officially begun and waves of people are now flooding in.
The sounds of laughter and music are loud and overwhelming.
My head starts to pound with a headache that feels like nails against my skull.
I press a hand to my temple and try to exhale slowly and regulate my breathing, doing anything I can not to pass out.
“I think I’m going to take a walk,” I say, trying to sound casual and not raise any suspicions. “You guys okay if I step away for a bit?”
Sophia barely looks up as she refills a basket of pumpkin scones perfectly in a row. “Go for it. Just don't get lost in the corn maze. I heard they made it even harder this year than in the past,” she giggles.
Liv shoots me a look that says she knows something’s off, but I’m guessing by my facial expression, she knows not to dare ask me what’s wrong. “We’ve got this. Take your time.”
I aimlessly weave through the growing crowds, my steps unsteady.
The chatter, the music, all of the different autumn scents infusing the air—it should all feel comforting and nostalgic.
Instead, it feels like I’m stuck in a room with four walls pressing in on me.
Before I know it, I end up right in front of Alex’s tent.
He’s behind the counter, arms crossed, while Frankie and another bartender pour drinks.
He wears a pleased facial expression, like he expected me to appear in front of him at some point in the evening.
“Hey, Princess,” he calls out, dripping with amusement. “Care for a drink on the house?”
“I’m pretty sure I told you to stop calling me that,” I mutter, despite finding myself walking closer to him anyway. My eyes narrow, examining the beer he holds out in my direction. “Are you poisoning me?”
“If I was, you’d never see it coming.” He simultaneously winks and smiles, and I am once again not able to tell if it’s the heart failure, or Alex Cruz, but my heart skips a beat.
I hesitate to take the drink. Accepting anything from Alex right now feels like losing to the game we’ve played since we were kids.
But my throat is dry and my hands are shaking.
I don’t have the energy to argue, so instead I roll my eyes and snatch the bottle from his hand, turning away before he can say anything else.
I continue on my way, trying not to notice how his gaze follows my every step.
I keep walking, letting the crowd and noise blur around me until I find a quiet spot to fight off the dizziness taking over.
A small bench is tucked away near the edge of the park in the town square, under the golden canopy of an old maple tree.
The whole area is lined with privacy hedges, perfect for someone that needs to escape, someone like me.
Sitting on the bench, I finally bring the bottle of spiked cider to my lips. The first sip goes down cold, bitter, and grounding in a way I didn’t expect it to be. I take another drink, more of a chug this time. Closing my eyes, I try to breathe through the dizziness that remains.
Several minutes pass and all I can hear is the muffled sounds of the festival as I try to breathe. It's not helping. My hands are clammy and shaking, and there’s a heaviness in my chest. I can tell I am on the verge of passing out, I just pray my ICD still works and shocks me back to life.
“Mind if I sit, Princess?” The deep voice echoes from a shadowy figure towering in front of me. I blink up at the last person I want to see as he’s already dropping onto the bench beside me.
“Are you following me?”
“Nah. I knew you would be here.”
“How?”
“You used to come here all the time. Always lost in your sketchbook. Drawing random people or what you ate for breakfast that day.” He responds quickly, like he knew I was going to ask and already had his answer prepared.
“You remember that?” I question, eyebrows scrunching together warily.
“I remember everything.” His eyes search mine, anticipating what I will say next. The tension is thick and hot between us. A simple spark would light this whole place on fire.
The dizziness has subsided and is now replaced with heat throughout every inch of my body.
I don’t know what it is about him, especially this grown, taller, broodier version, but I feel vulnerable every time he’s around.
Like my body wants to forget everything—our history, the fallout, the heartbreak, the what-could-have-beens—and instead just be consumed by him again instead.
Deep down, I want to let him have his way with me, at least for one day, and pretend everything hasn’t completely gone to shit.
His face is awfully close to mine, and before I lose any willpower I have left, I spring up from the bench and start to walk away.
Alex immediately stands and grabs my wrist, gently pulling me back. “Why are you leaving?”
“You—I—.” I don’t know what to say. No words come out because the only thoughts going through my mind are:
I need to leave before I take you home and ride that mustache like I don’t hate your fucking guts.
Hate-fucking is a thing people do, right?
I wonder how many other girls in this town have ridden that gorgeous face of his.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He steps in closer. I try to put space between us as I take several steps back.
I’m now pinned beneath his body, my back against the tall hedges.
Alex’s fingers are still wrapped around my wrist, making it look tiny under the ridiculous size of his hand.
The other hand is propped up against the hedge near my head.
My breath starts to falter and the dizziness is back in full force.
“Tell me why I can’t stay away from you, Emiliana?
No matter how many times I tell myself that I should, I always end up back in your orbit.
” His grip releases from my wrist, fingers coming up to my cheek and dragging their way across my jaw and down my neck.
His fingers hover over my chest. It rises and falls underneath him with every one of my labored breaths.
“Tell me to stop. Tell me touching you like this after all these years is a bad idea.” He growls, wild and pleading for me to restrain him.
I don’t.
I don’t want him to stop. Instead, my body arches closer into him, desperate for his touch again.
Alex’s fingers makes contact with the skin at my chest peeking out from under the sweater that falls off one shoulder, following over the swell of my breasts, down my hips, ending on my thigh.
A short moan escapes me upon feeling his warmth against my cold skin.
I don’t know if I feel embarrassed for the fact that he has that kind of effect by merely touching me, or if I should swallow my pride and beg him to keep going.
Alex leans down, mouth hovering against the side of my neck. “I bet you’re already wet from me touching you, huh, Princess?” he whispers in my ear, hand tracing the inside of my thighs with his thumb. “Will you let me check?”
I nod, not being able to form actual words.
He trails his way up under my skirt, fingers landing on the small bit of fabric covering my center.
“Mmm.” I can hear the satisfaction in his tone as one finger rubs back and forth over the obviously moist fabric. “I knew it.”
I fist the hoodie at his chest and hold back another moan as he pushes the fabric to the side and slides along my slit.
My pulse is pounding in my ears and the dizziness is so extreme that I lay my head back on the hedges in search of some sort of relief.
The different physical reactions in my body are competing to see if my heart will make me pass out or if I’ll orgasm first. Maybe both? Orgasm and then pass out?
Alex’s finger teases my opening, for what feels like an eternity until he finally slides my panties aside and pushes in completely.
Moving his head back in front of my face, he looks into my eyes and slowly moves his finger in and out at a steady rhythm.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, eyes locked with mine.
I nod.
“Say it,” he demands.
Remembering that we are very much still in public, I look around the park to confirm if we’re alone. Everyone seems to be occupied with the actual festival so it’s only us.
“Yes, I want this.” I admit, barely above a whisper.