23. Emory
23
EMORY
I release Ashton and turn toward Luke. He’s pulling at his hair now, pacing back and forth in a little line across the entrance.
“Luke,” I start, but I’m not sure what to say. I know how this looks. I sleep at his house for an entire week. We eat together. Sleep. Fuck. Without a condom, I might add. I ghost him, ignoring all his texts and calls. Then he finds me in what looks like an intimate embrace with another man in a dark hallway. I would be pissed if the roles were reversed.
“No, Emory. Don’t bother. I thought—never mind. It doesn’t fucking matter anymore,” he mutters.
“Luke, please,” I call out as he turns to leave.
He looks back at me, but I still don’t know what to say. I just know that I don’t want him to leave like this.
Then Ashton speaks up. “Look, dude. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Emory, but she and I are friends.”
Suddenly, Luke snaps and stalks towards Ashton, backing him up against the wall. “Was I talking to you?” He points a finger at Ashton. “I would tread lightly if I were you because I’m one second away from burying my fist in your fucking face for touching her.”
Ashton’s demeanor shifts at the threat. I’ve come to realize that Ashton is the most light-hearted, easygoing guy. Until he isn’t.
He sidesteps so he is no longer crowded by Luke. “I know you’re upset about the situation, and apparently unable to get it through your thick skull that there is nothing going on between me and your…girlfriend or whatever she is to you, but it would be in your best interest not to threaten me again.”
Luke’s eyes widen and then narrow. Then he inhales sharply, his breath seeming to catch in his throat. His jaw tightens, and I know he’s resisting the urge to fight with Ashton. He told me once that he doesn’t like physical confrontation if he can avoid it.
“Fuck,” he says, slamming his fist into the wall next to Ashton’s head. He turns around to leave and looks back at me, but he doesn’t say anything. Then he heads out toward the main part of the bar.
I look at Ashton, and he must see everything I don’t say in my eyes.
“Ash, I have to go explain?—”
He pushes off the wall, his lips pressed into a thin line, his worried eyes searching mine. “Will you be safe with him?” he asks. I love that he has become protective of me, but in the sweetest way, where he still trusts my ability to make my own decisions.
“Yes.”
“Then go,” he says, nodding to the exit.
“Thank you, Ash,” I say and stand on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek.
I rush over to give Nate a hug and spout off an excuse about being tired and having to work in the morning. Then I check on Allie, who seems happy enough with the citrus wheat beer she found. She’s chatting with some girls she knows from her kickboxing class. I let her know I’m leaving, and she says she’ll get a ride home later.
I sprint out of the bar, hoping that Luke didn’t drive off yet, and exhale when I see him leaning against his bike, smoking a cigarette, looking like a cardboard cutout of James Dean. I’ve never seen him smoke before, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t mind it in this moment. He has the bad boy trifecta going on right now. Tattoos, motorcycle, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Not to mention his broody stance and the sexy scowl painted on his face. I have to look away from him to keep the damn butterflies in my belly at bay.
“Hey,” I say in a low voice as I approach him.
He doesn’t say anything but eyes me up and down, looking me over in the light of the street lamps and the glow from the windows of the crowded bar.
“So that’s it? You’re going to give me the silent treatment now?”
“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” he scoffs, flicking ash from his cigarette onto the ground.
Yeah, I deserved that.
“Are you seeing him?”
“Who, Ashton? No, I told you. He’s a friend.”
“Then why were you hanging on to him like he was your fucking lifeline?”
“He just saved me from some drunk asshole, and I was upset. I needed a hug. That was all.”
“What drunk asshole?” Of course, that’s the part he chooses to latch onto.
“It wasn’t a big deal. Just one of Nate’s friends who had a few too many.”
“Did he touch you?”
“What? Who?”
“The drunk guy. Did he fucking touch you, Emory?” Luke’s eyes darken with a fury I’ve never seen before. His hand curls into a fist, and he grits his teeth so hard that his jaw ticks.
“No. Ashton got him to leave, and then he ran to the bathroom to puke.”
Luke stubs out his cigarette and pushes off his bike. If I thought he was pissed before, he’s downright murderous now. He looks at the entrance of the bar, and I know before he even takes a step what he’s thinking.
“No. You’re not going in there.”
“The fuck I’m not. What does he look like? Do you know his name?”
“Luke.”
“I’m not playing, Emory. What does he fucking look like?”
“Ashton will tell Nate what happened. He’ll deal with him. Please. I came out here to talk.”
I don’t want to talk, but it’s all I can think of to get him to stay with me instead of hunting down Mason. Luke looks at the door again and then back at me. There’s clearly a war going on in his head. Despite his aversion to violence, I can see he wants nothing more than to beat the shit out of Mason. But he’s been wanting to talk to me for a week now.
“Okay, you want to talk? Then talk.” He makes a gesture as if to say, “The floor is yours.”
“I—” I start to say something, but the words get caught in my throat. What can I say? My ex-boyfriend emotionally abused me to the point that I don’t know how to trust anyone. And now said ex is back in town and is trying to blackmail me into fucking marrying him.
“Emory,” he pleads.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“Why? Why can’t you talk to me?
“I…just can’t.”
“That’s not a fucking answer, Emory, and you know it.”
“Because…because you came out of nowhere,” I yell as I throw my hands up. “I was doing fine. I was surviving. And then you show up and we hang out for a couple of months, and all of a sudden, I’m supposed to open my heart and let it bleed out for you?”
“That’s not?—”
I don’t let him finish. “You never noticed me. You never gave me the time of day. Why now? Because I grew up? Because I’m not that stupid little girl reading in the corner anymore? Guess what? I’m still that girl. Just a broken version of her.” I turn away. I can’t even look at him after what I admitted.
“Emory…”
“No. You want to talk? Let’s talk,” I spit out, turning back to him. “This is me. My life is messy and complicated, and I won’t be able to give you what you need. I’ll retreat into myself. I’ll have panic attacks…like the other night…” I lower my eyes, still feeling raw about what happened, but when my eyes snap back to Luke, I can’t help feeling that he deserves the truth. Some of it, at least. “He used to call me princess. My ex. That’s why I freaked out,” I whisper.
“Fuck, Emory,” he tries again, but I don’t answer. He takes a step and I back away, on instinct. Or maybe because I know the second he touches me, I’ll lose all my resolve. Whatever is left of it, anyway. But he keeps moving toward me. Every step I take, he counters with his own.
“Just—hold fucking still for a second.”
I huff out a breath, a stray hair that has fallen over my eye jumping up, but I don’t move away this time, as his arms encircle me. I instantly sink into him, grabbing his waist and digging my fingers into his back.
“I’m so sorry I called you that,” he whispers against my hair.
“You didn’t know,” I whimper, my voice shaky.
“I still hate that I was the reason you had a panic attack,” he says, rubbing my back in thin circles.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” I say into his chest.
“I don’t. I mean, I did, but I quit. I chew gum instead now, but I still keep a pack on me just in case life gets to be too much.”
“So, I drove you to smoke?”
He lets out an ironic laugh. “You drive me to do a lot of things, Little Wells.”
“What else?” I ask, curious as to what influence I could possibly have on this man.
“I read Twilight .”
“What?” I pull away a little and look up at him.
“The whole series,” he says, moving his mouth away from my head so he can speak more clearly. “I traveled a lot that first year after I left. Mostly around the country. I couldn’t afford flights, so I took a lot of trains and buses. The long rides got boring after a while, so I started to read. Usually books I got from those lending libraries. You know, the ones that look like little houses. And then one day, I was in Bend, Oregon of all places, and there they were. In a little library shaped like a fucking acorn. Every single book in the series. I took them all, and yeah, I got some crazy looks. I was a grown-ass man reading about a teenage girl falling in love with a vampire. But I didn’t care. It made me feel…I don’t know…like you were there with me. On those buses and trains.”
Tears stream down my face, and I suddenly remember that we’re still standing in the middle of a parking lot when the door to the bar opens, and a group of people stumbles out. They’re yelling and laughing, without a care in the world. I wish it were that simple. Going out. Having fun. Laughing. I think back to when things were simpler. When I was still whole. That night . The only night he ever paid attention to me before now.
I sip the strawberry shake Nate got for me from the diner and flip the page of my book. Nate and his friends have been out celebrating their first official night as adults, having graduated earlier today. Nate got home a few minutes ago. I, on the other hand, have been sitting on the windowsill in the library since dinner. This is my favorite room in the house. There are wall-to-wall books with cozy little nooks and corners to sit in and get lost in imaginary worlds. I have no idea why my dad even has it. I have never once seen him in here. It doesn’t matter, though. It’s become my sanctuary.
I know I should be going out and having fun and flirting with boys. But instead, I’m here, re-reading the same book for the third time, drinking a half-melted milkshake. Dad wouldn’t care if I went out. Hell, I doubt he would even notice. But stupid Nate is everywhere, and he worries about me. I understand why. It’s just us now. Mom is gone. Opa is gone. Gram is…well, she’s still here, but she’s different. And she doesn’t live with us anymore. Dad is always working. So, it’s me and Nate. And my dad’s staff, of course.
Living with Gram and Opa, I didn’t grow up rich. Not poor either. We had everything we needed. But now that we live with Dad again, there’s a cook, a maid, and a groundskeeper. It took some getting used to. Nate rebelled against the whole thing at first. He still insists on making our lunches for school because he’s been doing it since he was eight. It was one of his “family fun tasks,” as Gram referred to them. She never called them chores, so they never felt like chores.
I get why Nate is so protective. He doesn’t want anything bad happening to me, but I’m sixteen and I’ve never kissed anyone for God’s sake. I turn back to my book. Bella is certainly getting some. Maybe I just need a sparkly vampire to whisk me away . I smirk to myself at the thought.
“Who’s got you smilin’ like that?”
I jump at the masculine voice above me, nearly spilling my milkshake, only to see Luke Collins, one of my brother’s friends—his best friend, actually—hovering over me. He’s smiling—the kind of smile that makes you forget how to breathe. His bright blue eyes are shining with amusement and a little bit of mischief. His dark brown, slightly wavy hair is long enough that it falls in his face as he leans down, and he shakes his head to put it back in place. Luke is the most beautiful boy I have ever laid eyes on. Forget sparkly vampires; he’s the stuff of fairytales. Just one look at him makes my stomach flip like it’s vying for gold in the Olympics.
“W-what?”
“You look like the cat that ate the canary.”
“Huh?” In addition to forgetting how to breathe, he apparently also makes me forget how to rub two neurons together.
He chuckles. “Never mind. What are you reading?” His voice is smooth like honey, and he has the slightest hint of a Southern drawl, having moved here from North Carolina a couple of years ago.
“The third Twilight book,” I reply, keeping the book open to the page I was on as I set it down next to me.
“Hmm, never heard of it. Is it good?”
I bark out a laugh, but his face is completely serious.
“What’s so funny?”
“You—you’re serious? You’ve never heard of Twilight ?”
His expression doesn’t change, but his eyes ping back and forth at mine, like they’re searching for something.
“Do you live under a rock?” I continue, still completely dumbfounded that he has never heard of this book.
But he just shrugs, gliding his finger along the books on one of the shelves. “I don’t read much. Unless I have to.”
He picks up a book from one of the bottom shelves and starts flipping through the pages. I laugh nervously, looking up only to notice that he’s so close, I can see every single detail of his eyes. They’re cornflower blue, but there are these super thin navy rings around the edges, and there’s a tiny brownish fleck in one of them. It’s subtle. You would never notice it from far away, but up close…and his lips. There’s a slight indent in the middle of the bottom one, and I wonder what it would feel like if I…
“What is it about?” Luke interrupts my thoughts.
“Huh?” I breathe out.
“ Twilight . What is it about?”
“Oh um…well…you should just read it. Or not. Maybe guys don’t like it. I’m not sure. I don’t have many guy friends.”
Jesus, Emory. Stop talking.
Luke chuckles again. God, I love that sound.
He puts down the book he was holding, and I think the conversation is over. He’s going to turn around and walk out. Go back to ignoring me like he usually does. But then he grabs another one and starts absentmindedly flipping through the pages again.
“Why do you like it so much? Reading, I mean.”
“Oh… I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. But I guess it’s because books feel infinite. You know, like the possibilities are endless. Anything can happen. I like that feeling.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
“Really?”
“Sure. It’s how I feel about traveling. Or what I imagine it will be like. I’ve only ever been here and North Carolina.”
That’s right. Nate said he’s leaving tomorrow for his “gap year.” Although I guess you can’t really call it that since I don’t think he plans to go to college at all. He was supposed to stay until the end of the summer, but he suddenly had a change of plans, and now he’s leaving tomorrow. It’s for the best. I don’t want him to go, but the sooner he leaves, the sooner I can get over this stupid crush.
“You leave tomorrow, right?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says in a low voice, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear him. Then, he leans down to put the book back on the shelf and he’s close again. So close I can feel his hot breath brush against my cheeks. It smells like mint and the tiniest hint of alcohol. He turns his face and I lean in. He leans in…
“Anyway, it’s getting late. I should go,” he finally says, snapping us both out of the moment. I instantly feel embarrassment flood my cheeks. Why did I think he was about to kiss me? I’m such an idiot.
I nod slowly, still trying to gain feeling back in my limbs.
“Yeah. Safe travels, Luke,” I whisper.
He looks at me like he wants to say something. Like he wants me to know his deepest, darkest secrets. Like he wants to flip my world upside down. But he just leans forward and whispers back.
“Be good, Little Wells.”
“You were never a stupid little girl to me,” Luke says, interrupting my memories and thrusting me back into the present.
He’s still holding me, his hand gliding up and down my back.
“I meant what I said when we first started all this. I’ve wanted to kiss you for ten years. Since I got back from visiting family in North Carolina that summer before you started high school. I was a stupid little kid myself before that. I was too busy trying to make friends and fit in at a new school. Making sure my dad wasn’t going to relapse again. But that first day of school… I saw you walk into the lunchroom, and I wanted to kiss you. I wanted to walk up to you and claim you right there in front of everyone. But I knew I had to stay away. I couldn’t do that to Nate. Not just because he would have killed me, but because it would have killed him. I’m sorry I ignored you. I… didn’t know what else to do.”
“So why that night? Why did you talk to me that night?”
“Because I knew I might never see you again. I hadn’t planned on coming back. I just wanted to know you better, so I could take a little piece of you with me. It’s stupid, I know.”
“No, it’s not stupid. It’s…” I start, my voice shaking. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
“I wanted to.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I spit out as I pull away from him, irrational anger building inside me. If he had kissed me… If he hadn’t run away… I would never have been with Jaxon.
S omeone ends up taking the ones you let slip away.
“ I was leaving. And you were fucking sixteen, Em. I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t kiss you and walk out the door. You deserved more than that.”
He’s right. That girl reading on the windowsill, drinking her strawberry milkshake, and fantasizing about being kissed for the first time? She deserved everything. She didn’t get it, but that wasn’t his fault.
“And then I thought if I kissed you, I wouldn’t leave at all,” he goes on. “I had to leave, Emory. I was dying here.”
“I—” My words die in the back of my throat. What do I even say to that?
“Walking away back then seemed simple. It’s what I had to do, so I did it. But now…” He leans in, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Now, I know that you wear underwear with candy hearts in April. You play the shy card, but beneath that facade, you’re a badass woman who takes charge during a crisis. You would give someone the shirt off your back without hesitation. You love fast-food chicken nuggets, and your eyes are greener when you first wake up. Your soul is so fucking pure, it makes my heart ache just to watch you breathe sometimes. Every detail, every quirk, every whimper—they’ve burrowed deep. You’re not a beautiful stranger. You’re not Nate’s kid sister. You’re Emory Caldwell, and you’re all I fucking think about.”
His confession leaves me reeling and renders me speechless. I want to give in. I want to say fuck the past.
But I’m scared.
Gram used to tell me that if I was ever lost, to look up. Bees will stay in a mason jar with the lid off because they don’t know to look up. They buzz around, flying into the glass walls, frustrated, thinking they have no way out. But if they just looked up, they would be free. It’s all about perspective.
So, I do. The sky darkens as silver-gray clouds gather overhead. A solitary raindrop falls, then another. Soon, a steady patter surrounds me. Moisture seeps into my clothes, and the downpour intensifies. I glance at Luke, still rooted in place, his chest heaving. Rainwater trickles from his hair, tracing paths down his face, but he remains motionless.
One second. Two. And then he’s right in front of me. He closes the last of the distance between us, his hand cradling the back of my neck as he pulls me into him. His lips ghost over mine for only a moment before he presses them down firmly. He coaxes my mouth open, and his tongue glides along my lower lip before he bites it gently. I flinch at the slight sting, but soon I’m kissing him back, our tongues swirling and circling together. The rain beats down on us, washing away the pain and fear and anger like watercolors dripping down a canvas.
Luke moves his hand to my back and slides it further down, cupping and kneading my ass. The kiss turns urgent. He brings his free hand down, grabbing my thighs and hiking me up higher. I wrap my legs around his waist. And suddenly, I don’t care. I don’t care if my brother walks out of the bar. I don’t care if Jaxon keeps threatening me. All I know is that I want the man in front of me for however long I can have him.
Luke breaks our kiss and looks over at the bar, still loud and glowing. Then he starts walking us toward it.
“W-what are you doing?” I breathe.
“Shhhh.” He gently nudges my head forward so that it falls onto his chest.
I close my eyes and let him carry me. He stops walking and a cool surface collides with my back as my feet fall to the ground. My eyes snap open, locking onto his. We’re in the alley next to the bar. Luke reaches for the edge of my skirt, but hesitates for a moment, questioning. I nod my head, and he shoves my skirt up and moves my panties to the side, plunging two fingers in at once. I lean forward, burying my face in his shoulder to stifle my gasp. I hear the distinct sound of a belt unbuckling and fabric brushing past skin.
“I need you, Emory,” he rasps against my damp hair.
“Then take me.”
He pulls his fingers out, and I whimper at the loss of them, but then he slides into me. I curse as he lifts me up again, pressing my back against the cold brick of the wall, slowly sinking in further.
He fucks me slow and gentle at first, then fast and hard. I keep my eyes glued to his the whole time. Until heat spreads up my body, and I bury my head in his chest, tears and mascara smearing onto his white shirt. He holds me tight as I ride out my orgasm. It isn’t until he starts to thrust again that it dawns on me. We’re having sex without a condom—again.
“Don’t come inside me,” I whisper. “Please.”
He nods and slams into me once more before he pulls out, spilling all over the concrete. We’re both still panting as he pulls up his jeans and buckles his belt. He rights my skirt and panties, fixing my shirt before caressing my face with the back of his hand.
“Let’s go home, Em.”
I nod, threading my fingers in his and letting him lead me to my car. I don’t know where this is going or what it’s going to look like if it ends—w hen it ends— but I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of overthinking. I’m tired of being scared. He’ll never have all of me, but if he’s willing to take the little pieces I can offer, then who am I to deny him? Who am I to deny myself?