Chapter 4
Rafi
I'm fucking seething. Stetson rejoined me, and although he's still smiling, I know it's forced. He knows he fucked up. I'm going to beat the shit out of him today. I definitely plan to break his nose, I haven't decided what else. I crack my knuckles and lean forward in the old wooden chair. Looking down at the ground, I try my best to calm the fuck down.
Stetson obviously made her uncomfortable, but there's a goddamn reason I haven't asked her out. I'm not fucking ready. I'll have to tell her the truth, I can't start dating her and make shit up about me because all the real facts about who I am—my name, for example—will reveal the truth, that I've been hiding shit from her for over a year. Goddammit. I am going to kill him.
I may not be the only one. The perky blonde chick who works with Emma finishes helping the couple at the counter, her smile tight. A moment later the couple walks away with mugs in hand, and, with flourish, blondie swipes two cups off the counter and storms toward us. She looks pissed, made even more apparent when she slams the cups down on the table in front of us.
"Woah, sweetheart, where's the fire?"
She shoots Stetson an incredulous look. "Are all men seriously this fucking stupid? What in the hell is wrong with you two!?"
I glance back at the employee's only door that Emma slipped through, and unease starts to spread. "What are you—"
I don't finish my sentence before she bursts into a tirade. "Men! You're all idiots! Listen, I don't care how many trophies, or belts, or whatever you two have. I don't care if you're famous and people think you're special. You do NOT treat people this way. Emma is the sweetest person on the planet, where the hell do you get off—"
"What are you talking about?" I'm standing now, but she doesn’t slow a beat.
"She told me you guys were making fun of her! You made her cry, you piece of shit!"
"What!?" Now I'm pissed. I am going to murder Stetson.
"Listen, she would kill me for telling you this, but you need to understand something. That girl has a gigantic heart, and she's super sweet, but holy hell, is she shy. And she has a little crush on you, okay? So whatever you did, or said, you hurt her feelings. I don't care who you are. I'm not letting you piece of shit assholes back in this coffee shop until—"
Stetson cuts her off to explain, I hear the worry in his voice. I know he didn't mean to hurt her feelings, but he did, and he's going to pay. His explanation to her fades in the background as I stalk away from them.
I slam open the employee door and go searching for her. I walk down a short hallway lined with shelves racked with napkins and empty cups.
"Are they gone? I'm sorry, Alice. I'm such a baby," I hear her from the back, but then she's there, getting up from a small chair outside an office door. "Oh! What are you… uh…"
She quickly brushes under her eyes with her sleeve, trying to hide her tears.
"Are you looking for the bathroom?" She pushes her glasses back up her nose so I can see her huge doe eyes more clearly now. She's so pretty.
"No. I was looking for you."
"Oh… umm, why? Oh no, what did Alice say to you?" She starts to panic, and I take a step closer. "God, this is so embarrassing," she looks up at the ceiling, fidgeting, likely wishing I wasn't back here. But I caught that part of Alice's tirade about how my little Emma has a crush on me, too.
So, whether I'm ready or not, I guess this is happening. There's no way I'll let her think Stetson wasn't serious, that he was making fun of her. It's time she finds out how much she really means to me, how much I want to be with her. I don't know if she'll have me, but I have to take the chance.
"I don't like tea."
She snaps her gaze to me, pushing her glasses back up her face. "What?"
"I don't like tea. I never have. But I don't drink coffee because of training, so…"
"I don't understand. You order tea like every day."
"I order tea every day, so I can talk to you. So I have an excuse to come in and see you." She scrunches her face in confusion.
"I don't get it…" She still thinks this is a joke. Her big brown eyes finally look directly at me, all innocent and sweet.
"Emma, I come in every day, so I can listen to your voice and see you up close." I'm not happy about what Stetson did, but… this is the most we've ever talked in person. I can't pretend to not be happy about that.
Her mouth drops a bit, and those pillow-soft lips round to form a question, but she closes it again. Opens, then closes, like a fish out of water. I take pity on her and keep talking.
"I want to take you out. Will you go on a date with me? Can I take you out to dinner?"
"Uhmm… I don't really understand. Why? I mean, why me? Wouldn't you rather… you know…"
"No, I don't know."
"Go out with someone like Alice?"
"The blonde chick?"
"Yeah."
"Why the fuck would I want to go out with her?"
"I don't know, because… isn't she, like, more your type?"
Ahh, the inner workings of my shy girl Emma. I give her a smirk and tilt my head. "That's a little judgemental, don't you think?"
Again, she scrunches her face in discomfort, which makes her glasses slide down her face. She pushes them back up. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just meant I'm not exactly… I mean, have you seen her? She's a total bombshell."
Wow. I love this girl, but what a pain in the ass. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that and ask again. Will you go on a date with me?" I take a step closer, but this time she doesn't move back.
She's thinking about it and slowly, finally, nods yes. "Okay… I'll go on a date with you." It's like she has to pry the words from her mouth, but I don't take it personally.
"Give me your number," I pull my phone from my pocket and open the contacts. I actually already have her number written down somewhere, but I've never used it, and she doesn't have mine. But I'm not ready to explain how we know each other, not yet. Soon.
I hand her my phone, and after she types in her number, she hands it back to me. I send her a text, so she has mine.
I pocket my phone and tell her I'll get in touch with her later today. She still looks a little lost, but before she can change her mind, I head back down the hall.
"Raze?" I pause and turn. "If this is… I mean, if this is a prank. Or a joke, or whatever. Or if you feel bad about what happened out there and you're just trying to make me feel better. Can you just, I don't know. Just tell me. Now, or text me the truth later?"
"You think this is a prank?" My words churn out slowly, like gravel. Stalking back toward her, I crowd her personal space.
"No?" The word comes out like a whisper, eyes wide. I've never been this close to her before. She sucks in her bottom lip and releases it, teeth dragging, making that plump lip wet and red. She doesn't even realize what she's doing.
I have no control to stop myself, and suddenly I'm doing the one thing I've been dying to do since I saw her for the first time a year ago. I kiss Emma Baker.
It starts soft and sweet, but I've caught her off guard, and she responds honestly. Slow at first, before opening her lips. I feel her tongue slide across mine, and then we're on fire. I wrap my hands around her head, cradling her face, and kiss her like she's the last drop of water on earth.
She stiffens when I pull her into me, but then her small hands grip my shoulders, tugging me closer to her. She's so responsive, we push and pull like two lost lovers reunited. Our kiss deepens, and I forget where we are for a second, ready to push her up against the wall when we hear a voice calling from the front of the shop.
"Emma? You okay back here?"
Suddenly Emma is pushing at my chest, her breath and movements erratic. She can't physically move me, so I take a step back and give her some space. "Yeh-yeah, yeah, I'm sorry, Alice! I'll be right there!" She yells back, taking another step away from me.
I don't want to leave. Not now, not after all this time. But she needs a minute, and I guess I do too. "I'll text you later," I tell her, turning and heading back into the coffee shop.
We're only a few minutes away from the shop when Stetson finally says something. I had forgotten for a moment what happened with him. All I can think about is that kiss, the way Emma feels, tastes. After all this time, I finally have something real to compare to my imagination. I'm still lost in it.
But the image of her soft, gentle body hungry for me is ripped away when he says, "Dude, is she okay?" Because now, the image of her kissing me is replaced with the one of her crying. I rear back and punch him in the face, he drops like a sack.
"Ow, fuck!" He yells, hands gripping his face, blood slipping out between his fingers. "You broke my fucking nose, asshole!" A young couple walking their dog shriek and hurry past us, but I don't move to help him up. Fucker's broken his nose enough times not to whine like a little bitch.
"You're lucky that's all I did."
"Fuck, man. You didn't have to hit so hard. Jesus," he's half laughing, half coughing, while trying to still the bleeding. He manages to get back up with effort.
"You had that shit coming. If you ever make Emma cry again, I'll break more than your nose."
He coughs and shakes his hand out on the sidewalk, blood splattering everywhere. We start walking again, and he's holding his nose, tilting his head up slightly. "Seriously though, is she okay? I had no idea she'd think I was fucking with her. You're always staring at her. How did she think I was making fun of her?"
"She's… timid. I'm taking her to dinner."
"Hoo hooo! Fuck yeah! Wait, why'd you punch me?! You got a date with your dream girl, thanks to me!"
"Thanks to you, my dream girl was crying because she thought you were making fun of her." My fist clenches at the reminder, but I shake it off. I haven't forgiven the asshole, but I'll let it go since I got to break something.
We make our way back to the gym, but Coach puts me through the wringer for the rest of the day. Apparently, breaking the nose of my sparring partner is frowned upon, so he doubles up on literally every single brutal workout he can put me through. Prince Stetson took an Uber home and got to rest, but whatever, it was worth it.
I'm exhausted at the end of the day, and while I hoped I could have taken Emma out to dinner tonight, I just don't have it in me. I can barely stand, and I don't want to give her the impression that she isn't my entire focus, so I text her instead and ask if I can take her out tomorrow night. She responds immediately, and I like that she doesn't try to play coy or hard to get by waiting to get back to me.
It'll be interesting getting to know real-life Emma. The girl I know from her letters is more outspoken. Still shy, but honest and refreshing. She always demands honesty. She's never been uncomfortable with me, at least not since our early letters, when her questions were stilted, and she apologized too much. We've been friends since we were ten when our respective elementary schools set up pen pal programs with kids who lived across the state. Emma is from here, midcoast sunny California, where I'm from the south, closer to LA.
I didn't have a good home life; my parents were both in and out of rehab most of my childhood. My dad, who has since moved home to India, tried to make the most of his life here in the States, but it wasn't easy for him. And my mother, whose family is first-generation Italian, had so much Catholic guilt over the drugs that she took off on me once I got a little older.
I ended up living with my grandmother and aunt, who were happy to take me in but only because they got someone to do every chore around the house. It was hard, bouncing back and forth between my parents, who loved me but couldn't take care of me, and my aunt and grandmother, who loved having me but only because they wanted something from me. Love was conditional in their house.
So when my school's class started this pen pal program, it felt like a lifeline. I needed someone to hear me. I thought I was getting another kid just like me. I expected it to be a boy, at least. But instead, there was this polite, sweet girl who always listened. Everything I said, it always felt like she heard me, even as little kids.
Our friendship grew from there. Everyone else in my class, their pen pals fizzled out, but Emma and I kept talking. And when we got older, we switched to email from written letters.
It was platonic for years; not until she sent me her picture when she turned 18, her senior year photo, did I start to think of her as more than a friend. But still, I kept her at arm's length because she was the only solid, consistent thing in my life, and I didn't want to fuck that up.
I learned at a young age how to get girls. I lost my virginity when I was 14, and I didn't tell Emma about it until she lost hers at 17 and started asking me questions. Of course, she deserved better than what she got, but at the time, I didn't know how to help her. I didn't know how to tell her she was better than her random high school boyfriend, who was more interested in playing Magic the Gathering than figuring out how to please a woman.
A couple of years later, during her sophomore year in college, she met a guy, and they dated for a couple of years. But I know from her letters, even though she rarely mentioned him, that she was completely unsatisfied. So it's no wonder she told me in her last email that she was feeling lonely.
Stetson forcing me into this position and finally asking her out is a blessing. Because now that I've gotten to see real-life Emma, to hold her and kiss her, I wouldn't be able to handle her going on a date with another guy.
I know the girl in our letters and the girl from the coffee shop are the same person. But right now, I know them as two separate people, so I need to get to know Emma in real life. Honestly? I can't fucking wait.