“Yeah, without a doubt.” The end of our night is here. I lean forward to kiss her because I can't leave without at least one more. “Good night, Eva.”
“Good night, Emerson.”
Just as I said I would, I wait until she's safely inside and has closed the door before I leave.
THE RUSH OF being with Emerson is completely gone by lunch the next day. My mind seems to have zoomed in on that one odd spot of our date where something changed in him. I said his name three times before he finally heard me. This is the second time he's zoned out on me and it's starting to worry me. I don't want to think about him possibly thinking of her when he's with me. They have history and she is part of his past, but she's not here now. She let him go, but maybe he is mentally checking out because something has reminded him of her and he's still struggling with it. I don't know for sure because, I don't know anything about the girl or her relationship with Emerson.
Catherine and I are out on a post-first date lunch. Every time one of us dates someone new, we have this lunch to fill the other in on what happened.
“So?” she eagerly asks as we take a seat with our food. “How was it? I'm guessing pretty damn good based on that kiss I saw.”
“It was great,” I agree.
Her eyebrows rise, disappearing underneath her bangs. “But? Why do I feel a 'but' coming? How can there be a 'but' after that kiss?!”
“Let me start from the beginning.” I recount the entire date and then swing back around to what is bugging me. “He started acting weird the moment we were around more than one family member. Do you think it has anything to do with that girl?” I know her name because Glen mentioned it, but I can't bring myself to say it. Emerson may not be here, but I know her name holds power over him. I feel like if I say it, the power will grow.
Catherine shakes her head. “Okay, this isn't even going to have a chance in hell if you start overthinking everything because of what you know about her and him. As far as we know, there isn't a current relationship between them. You don't need to feel as if you're the other girl or as if she is. Maybe he was acting funny because he doesn't have a good relationship with his aunt,” she tries.
“I don't think so. They acted fine around one another.”
“It doesn't matter. He returned to normal. You need to pretend you know nothing about his past. He doesn't know you do, and you're going to think too much if you keep acknowledging it. Until he gives you a reason to, maybe you should listen to your best friend and not worry about the girl who forced him to leave her and date other people. If you don't think you can do it, then don't see him anymore.”
Catherine makes sense, but I'm still feeling a little uneasy about it. This whole wait to see what happens crap is harder than I thought it would be. I mean, it's pretty much my life motto, yet I can't seem to follow it as well when it comes to him.
“I'll figure it out when I hear from him again. What are you doing this weekend?” I'm ready for a change of subject.
“There's a party tonight, so I'm going to that. I might go shopping tomorrow. Do you want to come?”
“I don't know yet. I should probably get started on my homework, especially since I work today and Sunday.”
We talk a bit longer while we eat before I have to leave for work. We picked up my car from the auto shop this morning, so Catherine doesn't have to take me. Another coworker is with me for a few hours before she clocks out and it's only me. Unlike Wednesday, this place is bustling. As soon as one person leaves, another one comes in. It leaves me no time to think about a certain boy.
Saturday, I skip on shopping with Catherine to do my homework like a good student. I've just finished my homework, my stomach grumbling out of control, as Glen comes into my room.
“Hey,” I grin, standing up to give him a quick hug. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm meeting Emerson at Smitty's. Want to come with? It seems you two have a thing going on now, right?”
I plop down onto my bed while he sits on the edge of Catherine's. “We went on a date, yeah. Who wants to know if I'll come? You or Emerson?”
“Emerson brought it up.” Any time Glen wants to say something or has something on his mind, he absentmindedly cracks his knuckles. Just like he's doing right now. He sighs. “Eva, you know there's a reason why I've never introduced you two. I didn't want to chance y'all hitting it off and then that chick coming back into the picture and you getting hurt. Emerson's a good guy though. He hasn't mentioned her in a long time, but are you sure you want to push this further?”
Glen is worried about the exact same thing I am. Only, we have hit it off now. “I don't know,” I finally say. “That's what I've been wondering as well.” I pause, replaying Glen's words in my head. “He hasn't mentioned her to you in a while?”
He shakes his head. “No. Not since she was out of town again when he went home at Christmas. He finally started seeing other people after that. He hasn't tried to contact her since then either. I asked when he told me y'all went out.” My eyes widen a little and he says, “You're my cousin, Eva. Did you really think I wouldn't grill him about it?”
“I didn't think about it.” I pause before adding, “You talked to him. Do you think I should see him again?”
Glen is quiet as he thinks it over. “He seems to have moved on. If you want to see him again, then get your shoes on and let's go eat.”
I should probably be embarrassed at how fast I move. Thankfully, Glen doesn't laugh at me. He's a good guy. He patiently waits as I not only slip my shoes on, but also brush my hair and apply a tiny bit of make up. Plus, I changed my clothes first. When I'm finally ready, he leads the way to the parking lot.
Those darn butterflies have woken up in my belly. It's a gentle fluttering at first, but the closer we get to Smitty's, the faster their wings beat. They might as well be bees for how fast they're swarming around. It gets worse when I catch sight of Emerson's truck. He must have gotten it fixed because there's no damage to the rear anymore. There's an empty space next to his truck, which is where Glen parks.
Emerson was waiting in his truck for us, so we meet in between the vehicles at the same time. Emerson has a huge grin on his face. It causes me to smile.
“You couldn't invite me yourself?” I ask as he takes my hand and starts walking toward the building.
“Well, coming to Smitty's was Glen's idea. You coming was mine,” he answers, opening the door for me. We walk over to an empty booth and Emerson pulls me down next to him.
“What if I wanted to sit with Glen?”
“I'm the one who brought you here first, so you should sit with me.” He shrugs. It's as simple as that. The waiter comes and we place our orders since we know what we want. Emerson lays his arm on the back of the booth. “Tell me an embarrassing story about Eva from y'all growing up.”
“What? That's not fair.”
“Why? I'm going to ask you to do the same.”
Sitting this close to him and having the heat from his body practically envelope me is overwhelming. I thought my t-shirt and shorts would keep me cool, but it's only exposing more skin to his heat. “Don't you think you've seen enough of me embarrassing myself?”
Glen laughs and starts talking before Emerson can reply. “We used to have burping contests, see who could say their abc's, ask a question, stuff like that. Eva was the champion every single time. None of us could compete with her.”
My jaw drops. He did not just say that. I kick him hard under the table, trying to ignore Emerson's laughter. Quickly, I blurt out the first embarrassing thing I can think of, “Glen used to walk around in his mom's heels!”
“I was three!” he defends. “I tried on everyone's shoes!”
“Okay, okay. I don't want to start a war,” Emerson manages to say while still laughing. “Although, I kind of want to hear you burp your abc's now.”
I glare at him. “What kind of guy are you? I'm not going to burp!” I'm officially horrified.
Glen chuckles an
d I want to smack him. “He's just saying that because he can't burp on demand. He's jealous.”
A glance at Emerson shows him nodding his head. “A little bit.”
Oh. My. God. “Well, forget it! I'm not doing it. Glen can get all the way to J, so you can ask him to do it later.”
Thankfully, the waiter brings our food to officially end the burp conversation. One good thing about food from Smitty's is that it shuts the guys up. I thought maybe it was just something that happened the first time I was here, but doesn't seem that way. I do learn that Emerson is left-handed though because his elbow keeps bumping into mine. Next time, he'll have to sit on the outside and let me have the inside.
I'm assuming there will be a next time. He did say he would talk to me later, but today is the first I've heard from him since he dropped me off. It's not a bad thing though. I've had the space to think.
As the plates begin to empty, the guys start talking about sports. I zone out, not even attempting to join in. I kind of ruined their guy time by tagging along, even though I was asked to come, so they can talk without me. Emerson and Glen are both football fans. They're excited for the start of a new season coming up. Briefly, I wonder if I might be spending Sundays with these two, watching football games. It doesn't sound so bad.
Emerson's hand lands on my thigh. The small action immediately has my attention. Then, I hear him say, “Earth to Eva.”
“Sorry. What did you say?”
“I asked if you wanted to come back with me.”
“Oh. Yeah, that sounds fun.” I look at Glen. “You don't mind, right?” I don't know if he was hoping to hang out after this or not.
“No, go ahead. I'll catch you another day.”
Glen generously pays for everyone's meal before Emerson is dragging me to his truck. After our dinner, I kind of want something sweet. Maybe ice cream. Or brownies? Ooh, brownies sounds perfect right about now.
“What'd you do today?” Emerson asks.
“Homework. I worked yesterday and I go in tomorrow, so figured I should get it out of the way today.”
“I worked yesterday and then again this morning.”
He parks and we walk up to his apartment. With brownies on my mind, I go to the kitchen and start opening cabinets.
“Scoping out my kitchen now, Eva?” The closeness of his voice makes me jump. I swivel to find him standing right in front of me now. He's wearing a small smile. “You're still hungry?”
“Actually, I'm hoping you have brownie mix.”
Emerson leans forward to reach around me and open a cabinet. He's a breath away, teasing me with an almost touch. A second later, he's holding a box of brownie mix in front of him.
“Can I make them?”
“Yeah, I'll grab the pan for you.” He steps away to do that and I walk over to his fridge for the eggs.
“Wow, a fully stocked fridge, I'm impressed.” I guess I figured he would eat out more.
Emerson laughs. “Well, I do work at a grocery store. I can grab anything I'm running low on before I come home.” I hear a spraying sound, so I look over my shoulder to see him spraying the pan. “What else do you need?” he asks.
“A bowl, measuring cup, vegetable oil, and either a mixer or a spatula.”
He moves around his kitchen until he's set everything I asked for in front of me. Again, he surprises me that he has a mixer. I start putting everything together and Emerson turns the oven on to preheat.
“Do you like fudge-like brownies or cake-like brownies?” I ask when he comes to rest his hip on the counter next to me.
“Cake-like.” His answer makes me grin. “What?”
“Me too.”
He chuckles. “Am I going to have to fight you over the brownies on the outer edge, too?”
I shake my head and say, “No. We're adults, so we'll divide them equally.”
Emerson leans over to kiss my temple. “You're awesome, you know that?”
“Because I ran into your truck, changed your radio station, fell asleep on our date, have shamelessly looked through your apartment, and now I'm baking brownies?”
He nods. “Yeah, pretty much.”
I laugh and pour the batter into the pan. Emerson sticks it in the oven before walking back over to me. I embarrassingly let out a yelp when he grabs my hips and lifts me, placing me on the counter next to the mess I made. He moves his hand down under my knee before gliding downward as he lifts my leg up. My lungs freeze, unable to breathe at the feel of his hand on my bare skin. He's looking down, but I'm unable to figure out what he's doing because I'm too distracted by his touch.
“Almost completely gone.”
“Huh?”
Emerson lifts his head with a slight grin. “Your stings. They're almost completely gone now.”
“Oh! Right.” I glance down, watching his thumb move back and forth. “Yeah, they are.” He gently moves my leg back down and steps closer between my knees. If he kisses me, how much restraint will I have this time? I'm half hoping I'll have none, and half hoping I'll have a lot. “We should clean up,” I blurt out when he rests his hands on my hips. It's too soon for sex for me. Based on our last kiss, it'll be hard to stop if it gets all hot and heavy so fast again.
“You sit here; I'll clean up.”
When he moves away, my chest deflates. My body and mind need to get on the same page, that's for sure. To distract my out of control hormones, I ask, “Do you wait for them to cool or eat them hot?”
“Wait for them to cool. I'll eat them almost immediately after pulling them out of the oven sometimes, but only with a glass of milk to go with it,” he answers as he starts the dishwater.
“Me too. I hate washing dishes. Whenever I get my own place, it must have a dishwasher.”
He glances over with a sly grin. “Or have a man who doesn't mind around to do it for you.”
“Hm. That's a good idea, too.”
“My mom and grandma had me in the kitchen a lot growing up. I'd help cook and clean up, so it stuck with me as I grew up,” he explains. “I guess you were busy with burping contests instead of being in the kitchen?” I have to give him credit for trying not to laugh, but he fails.
“I can't believe he told you that. Out of everything embarrassing we did growing up, he had to choose burping. You need to pick. Either you can bring up the little accident with our vehicles, or the burping, but not both. And you need to tell me something from your childhood to make us even.”
Emerson quietly washes dishes as he thinks. I watch him wash the bowl, rinse it, and then set it on the drying rack. “All right. I got something, but this is for your ears only, got it?” I nod, eager to hear his story. “I was such a momma's boy when I was little that I cried every day for the first month of kindergarten because I didn't want to leave my mom.” He had been focused on cleaning the utensils, but he braves a look my way. He has this embarrassed, aw shucks, kind of look on his face and it's adorable.
I smile. “That's cute.”
He laughs. “If you say so. I rode the bus and wouldn't start crying until I was on it. Mom didn't even know until the next year when she ran into my bus driver at school because no one had told her. My best friend would hold my hand and she would tell me everything was fine and that we would be back home soon.”
“You had a girl for a best friend? Are you still best friends or was that a kindergarten-long friendship?”
Just like that, his back goes rigid and his hands stop moving in the sink. What's wrong with what I asked? Emerson clears his throat. “Yeah, her name was Kelly. We stayed friends.” He struggles to keep his voice casual. “We dated in high school, but broke up when I left for college. I don't talk to her anymore.” He even adds a shrug for good measures, but I'm not fooled.
My heart beats faster at what this means. She wasn't simply a high school girlfriend; she was his childhood best friend. That's a serious bond and it's supposedly over? Just like that? This is my chance to ask questions. The topic is here and if I want to kno
w more, I could ask.
But I don't.
I don't want to know anything else that will make me more scared to continue hanging out with Emerson. If I ask questions, that's exactly what will happen, especially if Emerson decides he doesn't want to answer them.
“That sucks,” I say quietly. “Did you set the timer for the brownies?” I ask to change the subject.
“WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE thing about living on your own?” Eva asks as she takes a bite of her third brownie. The girl seriously loves them.
“I like knowing that I'm solely responsible for my success and failures. I feel like I was before, but it's more true now. And I like living by my own rules. What's your favorite thing about not living with your parents?”
She stretches her legs out in front of her and rests her hands on her stomach now that the brownie is gone. “My parents were pretty flexible to start with, so I don't know. I don't feel like much has changed. I do my own laundry and pick up after myself. I did that when I lived with them.” She releases a heavy breath. “I shouldn't have had that last brownie. I'm overstuffed.”
I laugh. “Me too. I think you have the stomach of a guy.”
Eva glares. “You don't know how to flirt, do you? Or you don't know there's a list of things to not say to a girl.”
“I didn't say you looked like a guy,” I point out.
“Doesn't make it any better, Emerson.”
“Either way, I think it should be noted that I can flirt.” She raises an eyebrow at me. “I can,” I repeat. “If you don't think so, then I still have to be doing something right. You're here, aren't you?”
Eva rolls her eyes. “Don't be so smug. Maybe I have an ulterior motive.” She turns to rest her back against the armrest and props her feet on my lap.
“What would that be?” I ask, completely amused.
She thinks about it for a second. “You've fed me, taken me horseback riding, and made me laugh. I needed someone to do those things for me, and here you are.”
A smile is begging to appear on my face, but I hold it at bay. “Does this mean you got stung and ran into my truck on purpose then?”
Without a Doubt Page 4
