TEN
JACK
After a shitty couple of days, I’m ecstatic it’s finally Friday. As usual, Paul, Henry, and I play at O’Reilly’s tonight—time for my remedy.
When I reminisce about yesterday, I cringe so hard. I was stupid enough to get an electric shock and even more foolish to go to the ER and agree to Emma performing an ECG. And the only reason I was stupid was that I’d been thinking about her instead of focusing on my work. How did I assume this was a good idea?
Paul is right: Emma is attracted to me. How she looked at me said it all, and because I should stop being stupid, scaring her off is the most sensible thing to do, and with my behavior yesterday, that should be a safe bet.
With all these thoughts occupying my mind, I’m thrilled to sit behind the drums again and play our songs so I can get lost in my own little world, shutting everything out. And doesn’t it work like a charm.
After playing our last song, we leave the stage under roaring applause. As usual, we talk to some people I refuse to call fans before meeting our friends. The usual gang awaits us with drinks: Lauren, Tessa, and Ava, plus Ben and his brother Aaron. But tonight, someone else has joined them—someone I, again, did not expect.
Emma talks to Tessa, and when she notices me, our eyes meet and her lips lift in a smile .
My breath hitches because she looks so damn hot. She pinned her hair up in some complicated-looking bun with braids and stuff, and she’s wearing well-fitting dark jeans and this tight burgundy top that displays her nice cleavage. But what kills me is her lipstick. Matching the color of her top, it accentuates her beautiful and kissable lips.
I need a moment to stop staring at her, especially since her pretty smile lights up her entire face—a smile I surely don’t deserve and shouldn’t return. But I do, even though I should know better.
Tessa falls around Paul’s neck, and I stand next to Emma. “Hey, Peach,” I say, again, even though I should know better.
She raises her eyebrows at me. “Oh, we’re back to being nice and friendly?”
Slumping my shoulders, I grimace. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I can’t help but feel tense as a patient in a hospital.”
Emma nods. “Apology accepted. Does that mean we can have an actual conversation tonight? With you talking to me and maybe even smiling?”
Of course my lips lift in a smile. “I’ll do my best. What brings you here?”
“It’s my day off,” she explains, returning my smile. “Tessa invited me. I’ve only heard Paul play at the hospital, and it was about time I came to one of his— your gigs. And you didn’t disappoint. You guys are great.”
“Thanks.” By now, I can’t wipe the smile off my face as if I was making up for refusing to do so before. And soon, that annoying little voice in my head, which tells me to stop this shit, fades .
As the night continues, everyone chats away happily, enjoying drink after drink. While the others are engrossed in a group conversation, Emma and I quickly carry on our own dialogue, and I still can’t believe how comfortable talking to her feels. Forgotten is my aggravation because of what I shouldn’t be doing.
If only this one thing weren’t distracting me more and more: the top she wears has a strap that won’t stay put. Whenever she’s gesticulating, which she does a lot tonight, that strap slips off her shoulder. Every time she readjusts it, it’s getting harder for me to concentrate on our conversation. While we talk about my niece’s upcoming unicorn party—something Emma would have loved to have as a kid—it happens again. Out of their own accord, my fingers touch the soft skin on her upper arm, slowly and tenderly stroking toward her shoulder to readjust the strap. I’m hardly aware that Emma stops talking mid-sentence and watches the trail my fingertips take.
Conflicting emotions rise within me. I want this, but at the same time, I don’t. I want to touch her, want to feel more of her velvety soft skin under my hands, and have her run her hands all over my body. But I know I can’t because that would result in a panic attack.
My pulse hammers in my throat when my touch causes goosebumps to erupt all over her arm. Emma draws in a deep breath, and her chest rises. My eyes fall on the swells of her breasts and the creamy skin that looks inviting enough to make me want to run my tongue along it. I bite my lips, and before all my blood rushes south, I lift my gaze, and our eyes meet. While my fingers barely linger on her shoulder, we stare at each other, and it’s a stare that makes me feel things. Good things. Scary things.
Emma is the one to break eye contact. She directs her gaze to the floor and releases a slow breath. While I remove my hand from her shoulder, my eyes stay on her face with the flushed cheeks and the tiniest smile. “Sorry,” I whisper, unsure of what I’m apologizing for. Touching her? Or not being able to touch more of her?
“No worries,” she whispers back, and I wonder if she knows the answer. “Um, that unicorn party,” she continues as if nothing happened.
Something happened, though. It might be the alcohol talking, but deep down, I want her, all of her. While I can’t take my eyes off her, she averts her gaze more often, unable to keep eye contact. And not too much later, she checks the time. “It’s late. I gotta go. Thanks for a wonderful evening.”
She seems flustered since that brief incident, and I don’t blame her. It must be fucking confusing that I’m sending these mixed signals. I need to make up my mind. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I say. “Will you join us again?” I guess that means I’m not trying to scare her off anymore.
She frowns. “I work most Friday nights, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. You guys are great.”
I give her another smile for good measure. “Thanks. Okay, so see you soon, I hope. Bye, Peach.”
“Bye, Jack.”
And after saying goodbye to everyone, she’s gone. I watch her leave when Paul shows up next to me. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
I narrow my eyes. “About what?”
“You’ll see. Come on. ”
I groan but follow him. We walk toward the back exit, down the hall, where Paul probably hopes to talk to me without interruption. Even though I can guess what’s coming, it takes me by surprise when he turns to me, cornering me so I can’t escape.
“Jack,” he says, “you had quite the moment there with Emma, didn’t you?”
I flick my gaze to the ceiling. “Ah, come on. Stop pestering me. That was nothing.”
“Nothing?” Paul huffs. Yeah, right, I wouldn’t buy it either. “You think this is a smart idea?” he goes on. “I’m asking you again: how do you think this will ever work? She will want to touch you.”
“I let her touch me for the ECG.”
Paul snorts. “And how was that? Did you enjoy it?”
I roll my eyes again, and probably not for the last time during this conversation. “Fine,” I admit. “I endured it.”
“Wow, you endured it. Will you endure physical closeness with her as well? This is not how this thing works.”
“Maybe I can do it. Maybe I can feel comfortable being close to her.”
“Jack, you can’t stand being close to anyone. Why would it be different with her? Now tell me, does this feel comfortable?” He comes closer, bracing himself on the wall with his hands next to my shoulders. “Didn’t think so,” he says when I cringe.
Another eye roll from me. “Maybe that’s because I don’t like you pressing your privates against my leg.”
Paul lowers his head with a deep sigh. “Damn, Jack. Don’t take this the wrong way. You’re my best friend, and she’s a good friend too. I don’t want either of you getting hurt. She doesn’t know. She has no idea. Tell her or stay away from her.”
I flinch as my gut tightens at the thought. “I can’t tell her. That would change everything. I hate it when people know. I hate how they treat me differently. They always do.” I fucking like how she looks at me. It’s been so long since a woman looked at me like that, and she will look at me differently once I tell her the truth.
“What the fuck are you guys doing?”
We turn our heads and stare at a dumbfounded Henry. Paul and I standing so close together in a dark corner must be a confusing sight. “Sorry to interrupt this romantic encounter between you two, but I gotta say I am a little puzzled.”
Paul groans without stepping away. “I’m showing Jack what an awful idea it is to go after Emma.”
“Oh, yeah,” Henry says, “I noticed that. Paul’s right. Awful idea.”
I push Paul off me with a frustrated groan. “Get off my back, both of you. Fuck, I need a drink.”
So I get a drink. And then another, and another. Because when I’m drunk, I feel numb, and when I’m drunk enough, I don’t have to endure. I can enjoy. And I can stop thinking about the woman I can’t have.
So I drink more and say goodbye to my friends and hello to the blonde chick at the bar.
What a fucking stupid move this was. How did I end up in this bed with this girl underneath me? I have a faint idea, but things have been a blur since I got pissed off at my friends and started drinking, forgetting about Emma. It worked just fine until a few moments ago. I’m sobering up way too quickly.
“Ah, yes, harder, Jack, harder!” With her hips grinding into me and her fingers digging into my ass, that girl urges me to move faster. Her loud moans ring in my ears, annoying the shit out of me.
No, this isn’t working. I slide out of her and rise from the bed, and she furrows her brows.
“Turn around on all fours,” I say.
She does as I tell her, and without hesitation, I grab her hip with one hand, my other guiding my cock back inside her. But as soon as she moans my name, I groan, and not because I’m oh so enjoying fucking yet another girl whose name I will have forgotten in the morning.
Shit, I’m not drunk enough for this.
I thought I could do what I usually do: get hammered, hook up with a random girl, and finally tolerate some kind of physical touch or intimacy. If you can call fucking a girl from behind intimacy. No, this is just letting off steam.
I close my eyes, and at once, I see her face. Emma’s beautiful blue eyes and those full lips. I don’t know what she does to me, and as hard as I try, I can’t get her out of my head.
Surprisingly, I can concentrate long enough to feel this girl, whose name I have already forgotten, tighten around me, and when she climaxes, I let go, too, groaning unintelligible words. Losing no time, I slide out of her and get rid of the condom .
When I turn back to her to say my usual goodbye, she sits on her bed, leaning against the headboard, her arms crossed over her chest and a glare directed at me.
“What?” I ask.
She pouts. I hate it when they pout. “I knew this would be a one-time thing, but you could have at least remembered my name.”
“What are you talking about?”
“My name is Melissa, not Emma.”
I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes.
“When you came, you called me Emma,” she explains.
Well, shit.
“Sorry. That was—I—I gotta go,” I stammer.
With a heavy sigh, I get dressed and head home with the fresh night air sobering me up and remorse as my new companion.