8. Emory
8
EMORY
I swing my leg over Luke's body and climb off him, like he's a bomb about to detonate. Grabbing the elastic from the floor, I tie my hair back into a ponytail as Luke gets up, adjusts himself, and hurries toward the door. Luckily, Nate didn't open it all the way. I suppose he has some limits. If he had opened the door, he would have seen his little sister straddling his half-naked best friend.
“SG?” Nate calls again. “You decent? Can I come in? I tried knocking. I’m picking up my sister for lunch and thought I would pop in and say hi.”
I glance around the corner and spot my brother, all six foot three of him, standing by the door. He’s a dead ringer for my dad—same jet-black hair, same blue-grey eyes, same lean build. Although Nate’s put on more muscle over the years. When he’s not working or annoying the ever-loving shit out of me, he’s either running or lifting weights. And, of course, he’s got that same disapproving scowl my father has mastered. He lost the childish twinkle he had when we were kids—the one he had when he wandered off to read comic books in the middle of the city or when he taught me how to climb a tree so I could see the world how birds see it. He was always so curious—carefree. But after Opa died and Gram went away, he hardened. He grew up too quickly. The only time I saw that spark again was when he came home from college one year. He’d finally let someone see behind his walls. It ended badly, I’m guessing. He never talked to me about it. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Nate would be disturbed to know how alike he and my father are, so I won’t bring it to his attention. Yet .
Luke grabs a shirt from a laundry basket and throws it on before he opens the door all the way.
“Nate. Hey, man,” he says as he goes in for a bro-hug-back-pat combo.
“It’s been too long, SG,” Nate says playfully, slapping Luke on the back.
“I know, I know. Hey, speaking of your sister…” Luke says, oh so casually. “She’s, uh—here.”
“What?” I hear Nate’s guard go up instantly.
“Hey, big bro.” I peek out from my hiding spot in the corner of the kitchen and walk over to them.
“Emory. What are you doing here?”
“She came to my rescue.” Luke holds up his arm.
“What happened?” Nate still looks highly skeptical, but he at least pretends to care about Luke’s injury.
“I was working on my bike, and my hand slipped. Thankfully, your awesome nurse of a sister was outside…gardening. Anyway, she helped me stop the bleeding.”
“I told him to go to the hospital, but he refused, so I got suture materials from work and did it here,” I explain, hoping Nate will let something go for once in his godforsaken life.
“You can’t stitch people up, Emory. You’re not a doctor.”
And there it is.
“Oh shit, really? All this time, I thought I had gone to medical school. Is any of this real?” I make a show of looking around in a confused daze.
“Emory, can you not deflect for once in your life?” Nate scolds. “You could get in a lot of trouble for practicing medicine without a license. And stealing from your job? You could get fired. What were you thinking?”
I’m about to nicely remind my brother that he promised to give me more space when Luke jumps in. “Hey, man. It’s my fault. You know how I am about hospitals. I practically had to beg her. Puppy dog eyes and all. She really did me a solid.”
“So what you’re saying is I should be kicking your ass for putting my sister in a position to lose her job instead of yelling at her?”
“Yes? But could you wait until I’m healed so I can at least defend myself?” He holds up his injured arm again.
Nate looks back and forth between me and Luke. “Okay, fine. But Emory, seriously, no more illicit backroom medical procedures. Come on, we’re going to be late for our reservation. And you…” He turns to Luke. “I’m watching you.”
Luke puts his hands up in the universal symbol of backing off.
“Great. Let's go,” I say, shimmying around Luke to push my brother through the doorway. I'd completely spaced out about our lunch plans until I heard him at Luke's door. Thank God Nate didn't show up a few seconds earlier, or worse, barge in without knocking. If he was mad about me just stitching up Luke's cut, I can only imagine how he'd react if he caught us in the middle of a full-on make-out session.
But my relief is short-lived when I remember how that kiss made me feel the most alive I’ve felt in years. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was waking up with the sun shining on your face after weeks of rain. It was dipping your toes in the warm sand on the first day of summer. It was riding the biggest roller coaster at the fair until you’re so dizzy you can’t see straight. It was everything. Until it wasn’t. Until I felt Luke’s erection and freaked out. Now, I'm sure he thinks I’m a prude, or a tease, or just plain indecisive.
After this lunch with Nate, I’m going to need my best friend.
And wine.
If I thought Nate was finished with his lecture on responsibility at Luke’s house, I was wholly mistaken. He went on to mansplain the Nursing Code of Ethics to me, including all the legal consequences of stealing from your employer. I love my brother; I really do. But by the time he drops me off at home, I need a stiff drink. Or five.
Luckily, it doesn’t take much convincing to get Allie to agree to go bar hopping with me. It’s Saturday night, she has no deadlines until next week, and I don’t have work until ten tomorrow. We are golden, so why not live it up? In other words, we’re going to go to precisely two bars, have one drink at each bar, and Allie is going to verbally castrate any man who comes within a mile of her. Allie has a healthy sex life, but she is picky as hell. The guys who usually approach her in bars don’t even come close to being good enough.
I’m applying eyeliner when my phone vibrates. I look down at it. My heart skips a beat when I see an unknown number with a New York area code. It’s him. Closing one eye and bracing myself, I open the text.
Unknown: Hey. Just thought you should have my number too. You know, in case you have a construction emergency.
I don’t have to glance in the mirror to know I’m smiling like a complete goofball. I didn’t know he was working in construction. I’ve seen the truck parked outside his house, but I thought he was borrowing it from his dad. I didn’t realize he was working with him. It makes sense. He’s always out all day and home at night. It would be the opposite if he had gotten a bartending job around here. But I know from what Nate has hinted at in the past that Luke has a strained relationship with his dad. Why did he randomly decide to move back home and work for him? I save his contact and type out a response.
I’m sorry, who is this?
Luke: Ouch.
How is the arm?
Luke: Okay. Not as painful as my bruised ego…
Luke: Seriously though thank you for today. I really appreciate it. Sorry it got a little awkward at the end.
Was it awkward because he didn't really want to kiss me? Or was it awkward because I stopped the kiss before it went further? Or maybe it was awkward because my brother almost caught us and then lectured me like a teenager in front of Luke? I don't know how to respond to that last part, so I ignore it. I do want him to know that I was happy to help him out, though. I'm about to tell him that when I get a text from another unknown number. I click out of my conversation with Luke and into the new one.
Unknown: Hi, Princess. I’m back in town. I hate how we left things… Can we meet? I miss you.
I drop my phone like it’s on fire. It might as well be.
Just like that, three years of repressed emotions come flooding back. I feel dizzy, overheated, nauseous. Rushing to the toilet, I crash to my knees but somehow manage to keep the vomit down.
I deleted him. From my phone, my life…all of it. I blocked his number when I first started seeing a therapist.
Without another thought, I delete the text and block the number.
Then I raise my hand and shakily continue to apply my makeup.
Just a few drinks won’t cut it anymore.
No, I need to forget tonight. I need to be numb.
Three hours later, I’m two glasses of wine and three shots deep. I’m feeling good . Allie insisted we start at this classy wine bar, but I got bored and begged her to go to the new gastropub in Rocky Falls that turns into a club after hours. She reluctantly agreed.
Now I’m buzzed and happy, swaying to the music echoing around me. It’s a mess of sweaty bodies moving, writhing, grinding, and I’m right in the middle of it. I move and swirl my hips, my gin and tonic sloshing and spilling on my hand with every move I make. Allie makes her way over to me and spins me around to face her. Okay, I’m more than a little buzzed.
“I’ve been looking for you for the past twenty minutes and you’re in the middle of a bump n’grind?” Allie chides.
“Dance with me,” I yell over the music, ignoring her protests as I pull her onto the dance floor.
“Who the hell are you? And what have you done with my sweet roommate who needed multiple diagrams to learn how to give a blowjob?”
“Mmmm. You know whose dick I want to suck?”
“I can take a wild guess.” She rolls her eyes. “Did you just say the word dick without blushing?”
“We kissed.”
“What?”
“Luke and I. We kissed after I stitched him up.” I ended up telling Allie part of the story, including Nate showing up, but I left out the kiss. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. But then alcohol happened, and now I just don’t care. She can torment me as much as she wants.
“You're telling me this now, twelve hours later? Was it a friendly ‘thanks for sewing me back up’ kiss, or a 'we're about to fuck' kiss? “Both,” I answer honestly because alcohol is the best truth serum out there.
“Then what happened?”
“I felt him get hard, and I freaked out. Then Nate came in and dumped a bucket of ice water all over the situation.”
“Sounds like Nate. I’m sorry, babe. Is that what all this is about?” she gestures to the club and the gyrating bodies surrounding us.
“Mostly,” I say. I may be dropping some truth bombs tonight, but there’s no way I’m talking about Jaxon’s text.
Just then, I hear a familiar masculine voice calling out my name from across the bar.
“Yo, Em! Emory Caldwell!”
I turn around and see Ashton heading toward me, a big, dopey grin on his face. This is the first time I've seen him in casual clothes, and I have to admit, he looks just as good in them as he does in a suit. His brown hair is styled perfectly, and he's wearing dark blue jeans and a cream waffle-knit henley. As he approaches, I throw my arms around him, and he responds with a tight, enthusiastic hug, lifting me off the ground for a moment before setting me back down.
“Ashton Tyler,” I giggle. “What are you doing here?”
“Meeting some friends. Heard this is the new hot spot.” He lifts up his drink, which has a cube of ice so big that it almost takes up the entire glass.
“Here’s to ironic mustaches and giant ice cubes,” I say as I cheers his glass and take a swig of my drink.
He laughs, and we catch up as I continue to chug my drink until I hear a throat clearing. Loudly.
“Oh my god. I’m so rude. Ashton, this is my best friend and roommate?—”
“We were just leaving,” Allie interrupts, her lips pursed in a no-nonsense scowl.
“Allie, don’t be rude,” I chide.
“Yeah, Alexandra. You’re way too beautiful to have that look on your face. I have to be honest. The scowl looks a little out of place.” Ashton advances toward her ever so slightly, but Allie is quicker, putting her hand up to his face.
“I’m going to stop you right there, buddy. I’m gonna need you to take two steps back and get the fuck out of my space bubble.”
“Oh, but it looks so cozy,” Ashton fake-whines.
“And…that’s our cue. Come on, Em. We’re leaving.”
“I’m not leaving.”
“Emory.”
“She’s a grown woman, Alexandra. She can make her own decisions.”
Allie moves her gaze toward Ashton with deliberate slowness, and even in my inebriated state, I shudder. Ashton has no idea the amount of hellfire he just unleashed on himself.
“First of all, my name is Allie. Call me Alexandra one more time and I will personally ensure you never procreate. Second of all, don’t stand there and mansplain my best friend to me. I know she’s a grown woman, but she’s going through something, and she’s self-medicating. She needs to come home with me. Now, get the fuck out of my way.”
“You seem a little tense, Alexandra. I know something that might help,” he smirks.
Allie lets out a low growl, and I contemplate telling her that Ashton would probably welcome not being able to procreate, but I decide instead to take her distraction as an opportunity to sneak away and grab another drink.
I watch them arguing as I wait for the bartender. I guess it’s not so much arguing as Allie repeatedly pointing her finger and yelling and Ashton responding with a cocky smirk on his face. The bartender finally comes over and I give her my order, but when I turn back around, Ashton and Allie are gone. I feel a tap on my shoulder, and sure enough, Allie is standing behind me with her hands on her hips.
“Where did Ashton go?” I ask.
“I don’t know. He probably crawled back into whatever sewer he came out of. Anyway, I’m ordering an Uber. Now,” she barks.
“Sure thing," I say, saluting her. “Oh my god, is that Craig Holder?” I ask, glancing at the crowd in the opposite direction, pretending to point to the executive chef of her favorite restaurant in town—and her longtime crush, though she'd never admit it.
“What, where?” She turns, and I make my escape, grabbing my new drink and weaving in between sex-hungry bodies until I find a group of guys sitting at one of the high-tops on the side of the bar.
“Hey, guys. Mind if I sit here for a minute? I’m trying to ditch my friend. She wants to leave, but I’m not ready to.” I give them my best sweet girl smile. If Allie doesn’t know who I am right now, I sure as hell don’t either, but I guess I’m about to find out.
One of the guys immediately stands and gestures for me to take his seat. “Sure, sweetheart. You can sit here as long as you want.”