Without a Doubt

by Lindsay Paige

  Emerson laughs so hard, he nearly chokes on a piece of bacon. I pat his back as I giggle. “And here I was simply thinking you're perfect and accepting you as such. Maybe I should tell everyone how we met from now on?”

  I shrug like I don't care. “If you tell it enough, the embarrassment will wear off.” I hope so anyway. He chuckles, leaving me wondering if he'll make good on his threat. A loud clap of thunder makes me jump. “Sounds like we're going to get more than rain today.” My plate is empty, so I drop it in the sink before peeking out the window in the living room. Rain is beating against it in a sudden downpour. A streak of lightning has me taking a step back.

  When I turn around with a frown on my face, Emerson asks, “What's wrong?”

  “Not a fan of storms. Freaks me out, really. You know how in romance movies and books they have couples kissing in the pouring rain? Maybe some rumbling thunder in the background?” He nods. “You couldn't pay me to stand outside if it's thundering and lightning unless I absolutely have to. You might have to venture out to the grocery store by yourself if it doesn't let up.”

  Emerson smiles as he walks over to me, taking my hand and pulling me over to the couch. “It's just rain,” he tells me.

  “Yeah, rain plus loud noises that can shake the house and bolts of lightning waiting to strike you and kill you. No, thanks.”

  He can't hold back his laugh this time. “You're ridiculous.”

  I pull away from him with a scowl. “I am not. I blame my grandma. She practically drilled the fear in my head. Don't go near the windows. Don't shower. Don't go outside. It could turn into a tornado. The woman was terrified and passed it on to me. She'd probably have a heart attack if we lived close enough to the ocean to have a hurricane. Once when I was little, I remember spending the night with her. There was a storm and she had me huddled with her on the couch in the corner of the room. I thought I was going to die with how scared she was acting. Maybe that's what traumatized me.”

  He pulls me back to him when I jump from the clear crack of lightning that had to be somewhere close by. He slowly kisses my neck, momentarily allowing me to lose myself in his touch. “Want me to distract you?”

  I laugh. “Not unless you want me to jolt every time it thunders. How about we talk? What's your favorite animal?”

  “Hmm. I've always thought those white tigers were cool.”

  “They're beautiful,” I agree. “Would you ever want a pet?”

  “Eventually, maybe. My mom would tell me it was good I couldn't have a dog because it was like having a kid. There's so much responsibility that comes with a pet. Feeding, grooming, medical checkups, and if you go on a trip, you have to find someone to take care of him while you're gone. So, maybe after college, I'd think about getting a dog.”

  When I start spouting off different kinds of dogs I think will be a good fit for him, he smiles and lets me carry on while he listens.

  “Can you play an instrument?” I ask next.

  “I played the trumpet in middle school, but decided I didn't want to be in the marching band in high school, so I quit. Can you?”

  I shake my head. “I have no concept of beat or rhythm. I doubt I could play well. How come you didn't continue to play baseball in college?”

  “I could have, but baseball took up a lot of time in high school and I knew it would be the same or more in college. I wanted to focus on school and have all the free time I wanted. Plus, I've never wanted to play professionally, so that helped make it an easy decision.”

  We continue talking and I almost forget about the storm. When things seem to calm down, I dash to the bathroom for a quick shower, ignoring Emerson's laughter. He showers next while I fix us a light lunch. Afterward, the rain is sprinkling, so we decide to go to the grocery store.

  Emerson holds my hand while I hold the little basket. We walk to the meat section first. He studies the meats like it's a test and he's looking for a specific answer to a question. Suddenly, like it's never occurred to me before, I realize we're a couple. We're shopping for groceries together. Sure, it's only one meal's worth and maybe some more drinks, but still.

  “I feel like we've reached a legit couple status now.”

  He glances at me with a raised brow before picking up a pack with two ribeye steaks. “You didn't feel like we were a couple before?”

  “No, I did. But look at us.” I lift our joined hands and move them between us and around the store. “We're shopping together.” My revelation is completely lost on Emerson. I can tell by his blank expression. “What do you usually eat with steak?” I ask, deciding to let it go.

  “Baked potato, but you're in charge of sides, so whatever you want.”

  “No, that sounds perfect.” We pick up two potatoes and anything else he's missing that we'll need. We checkout and get back into the truck. After a quick stop by the campus so I can grab more clothes, we're heading home. I glance over at him as he backs out of our parking space. “Would you ever let me drive Sweet Irene?” I ask curiously.

  He looks alarmed and I try to hold back my laughter. He does not want me behind the wheel of his truck. “Why would you want to drive her?”

  I'm pleased he doesn't say what he's thinking, which is a clear no. “I don't know. What if something was wrong with my car and I needed to go somewhere and you couldn't drive me?”

  His lips dip in a frown. “I guess if that was the situation, then I'd let you.”

  “So only if you didn't have any other choice?” I'm more amused than annoyed.

  “Don't you know what they say about women driving trucks? They can't do it well. Have you ever driven one before?” I shake my head. I've never driven anything bigger than my car. “Between that and the fact that you've already damaged the poor girl, I would be hesitant to let you drive her,” he admits. “Especially without supervision.”

  I laugh. “It's not like it's a stick shift. How hard can be it to get used to a bigger size?”

  “Hard enough that some women who drive them every day still can't park the damn things.” I roll my eyes at him, but don't say anything else. Who knew Emerson would be the type to be stereotypical when it comes to women and trucks. When he pulls into the apartment complex, he sighs heavily. “If you really wanted to drive Sweet Irene, I would let you, Eva.”

  My grin is stupid and huge. He wouldn't want to, but if I asked, he would let me drive his truck. He must really love me. My train of thought comes to a halt as I realize what I thought. Does he love me? Do I love him? “It was only hypothetical,” I tell him, not ready to answer those questions without being half scared and half excited.

  He leans over and kisses me softly. “Either way, I'd let you, and judging by the smile on your face, that was a good answer.”

  “The best,” I tell him before we get out, grabbing the bags and heading inside.

  We work together to put the groceries away. Most of the day wastes away as we watch TV together until it's time for dinner. We haven't done anything special today, yet I feel as if we have. Simply spending time with him is as good as if we had gone out and done something. While we're making dinner, I try to picture a future for us.

  Emerson would do most of the cooking, and I'd help clean up. Our bed would always look odd because it would be divided with two comforters, mine on the right and his on the left. I'd disappear on Sundays to give him time with the guys to watch football. Our home would be full of laughter and smiles because it's so easy to make Emerson do those things. He would kiss me in the mornings before he left and in the afternoons when he came home.

  We would have a dog, so his life would be a little less tragic. We'd take care of each other. He would never let me go. He would love me with all the parts of himself without a doubt. Life with him would be amazing and so worth any troubles that would come our way.

  Wow, I can map out our entire future.

  “Eva?”

  I snap out of my thoughts at the sound of Emerson's voice. Glancing down at my empty plate, I realize I
daydreamed right through our meal. “You say something?” I ask.

  “Yeah. I asked how you liked it. Everything okay? You've been quiet.”

  “It was delicious, obviously.” I point to my plate and he smiles. “I'm fine,” I add. “Just got lost in my thoughts.” The roaring sound of thunder makes me jump and Emerson tilts his head at me.

  “Must have been consuming thoughts. It's been thundering like that since we sat down.”

  “Really?”

  He nods. The lightning follows soon after and I frown. I really hate storms, but at least I'm with Emerson. The storm sounds worse than this morning. We're putting away our plates when the lights go out. Oh God. His apartment is pitch black. Before I can panic and speak, Emerson's fingers are interlocking with mine.

  “I'm sure it'll come back on in a second,” he tells me.

  Five seconds go by. No lights. I gulp. “Do you have candles or flashlights?”

  If Emerson wasn't holding my hand, I'd think I was speaking to myself for the silence he gives me for a few pounding heartbeats. “I always meant to buy some,” he finally says.

  “Damn procrastinator,” I mumble.

  “Hold on.” A second later, we have some light. He turned on the flashlight on his cell phone. Emerson leads us to his bedroom, pulling me into bed with him before turning the flashlight off. “Pretend it's night time and we're about to go bed. Problem solved.”

  I laugh, turning on my side like I know he is. “That would be easier if I knew I could turn on the lights if I wanted.”

  His hand rests on my hip and he presses his forehead against mine. “Are you scared of the dark, Eva?”

  “If the lights were on, you'd see me glaring at you.” He chuckles. “Only when there's a storm,” I answer.

  His hand slips underneath my t-shirt. My stomach tenses as his knuckles drag against my side and over my stomach. His touch is such a heady sensation. When he presses his mouth to mine, I get lost in him. He tastes a bit like the beer we had with our dinner. I allow Emerson to take control, to draw me in and make me crave him.

  It's not until we're naked and he's settled between my legs that it hits me. “Oh my God, you're using sex to distract me,” I blurt out, hearing another rumble of thunder as I think clearly for a moment.

  His chuckle makes me smile even though he can't see me. “Is that a problem?” he asks, his lips brushing over mine.

  “No,” I breathe.

  “Good answer.”

  He slides inside me and steals all of my focus. The lights come back on, but I barely notice. I'm starting to think thunderstorms may not be so bad after all. Well, as long as Emerson is with me. If I'm being honest with myself, I want him with me forever and not just through the storms.

  THE REST OF the week seems to pass uneventfully. I work, do homework, and spend time with the guys on Sunday. Glen has stayed to help me clean up the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. We're talking about next week's match up when my phone rings. It's sitting on the kitchen counter and we both can see the number pop up.

  To Glen, it's just a random number on the screen, but since I had it memorized, I know it's Kelly calling.

  I ignore it and tie up the trash bag.

  “You aren't going to get that?” Glen asks.

  “Nope.” It beeps, notifying me that she left a voicemail, which I'm going to delete. There's only a small temptation to listen to it. Otherwise, I don't want to know what she has to say. All it's going to do is make me feel guilty knowing it would make Eva upset if I did. Kelly isn't going to be upfront and honest with me anyway. She irritated me for most of our last phone call and all I wanted was to crawl back into bed with Eva. Glen is looking at me with curious eyes and I sigh. “What?”

  “Who was it?”

  “Kelly.” His brows rise and it pisses me off. “I'm dating your cousin, remember?” I throw back his words. “There should only be one girl in the entire picture, remember? Don't seem so surprised that Eva's my girl in the picture.”

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

  I shrug, deciding to offer some information. “I don't want to talk to her anymore and it makes Eva uncomfortable, so it's for the best.” Suddenly, I have a craving to see her, touch her, kiss her, and to make her smile and laugh. I pick up my phone to text her. “Think you can give me a ride to Eva's dorm?” If I don't have a way back, she'll have no choice but to spend the night with me.

  Glen nods and after a moment, he smirks at me like he knows something I don't.

  “What?”

  “You're whipped,” he grins, cracking an imaginary whip with the flick of his wrist.

  Eva texts me that she isn't busy. “Shut up and let's go.”

  Glen laughs, but we leave for campus. “I'm glad I'm not your roommate anymore,” he says out of the blue on the short drive there.

  “Why?”

  He gives me a quick, pointed look. “You're dating my cousin. I don't want to share a room with her boyfriend.”

  I laugh. He makes a good point. We make plans to eat at Smitty's this upcoming week when he parks, and then I'm on my way to see my girl. I delete Kelly's voicemail. When I slip my phone into my pocket and look up to open the door to enter the building, I see Eva standing there. She's in jeans and a sweatshirt, mine that she stole.

  “Why is Glen dropping you off?” she asks.

  After kissing her briefly and wishing I had brought my own coat, I answer, “So you'd have to come home with me.”

  She smiles. “Well, come on, so I can pack some clothes. Aren't you cold?”

  “Yeah. It got cold fast this year.” And it has. We could faintly see our breath when we were outside.

  “It's a furnace in here,” Eva says as we walk to her dorm, pushing up her sleeves. “How was the game?”

  “Good. I picked the winning team and won twenty bucks. Hey, Catherine,” I say when we enter the dorm. She's lying on one of the beds, reading a book.

  “Hey.”

  I sit on Eva's bed while she moves around to pack. “We're going to get a late night milkshake. Do you want to come with?”

  Catherine and Eva both glance at me in surprise. Should I not have asked? Eva's been around my friends and I thought it would be nice to do the same.

  “You should come,” Eva tells her. It's like they're having a silent conversation with one another with their eyes.

  “Yeah, okay. I will.” She grabs a bookmark from their nightstand and puts it in her place. “Are you staying with him again?”

  “Yep,” Eva answers.

  Catherine grabs her purse. “When are you two going to move in together? It'll be simpler.”

  I laugh at the craziness of that idea. “We are not moving in together.”

  Something about my tone makes Eva look at me and she doesn't exactly have the same expression as I do. Us living together after what, three months, would be crazy, right?

  “You don't want to live with me, Emerson?” There's a dare in her tone.

  Shit. Any answer other than yes sounds like it will be the wrong answer. “You don't think it would be too soon? We aren't that serious yet,” I explain anyway.

  Her lips part with shock. She folds her arms over her chest defensively. “How serious are we then? How serious do we need to be?”

  “It's only been like three months.”

  It's like something clicks inside her head. Her shoulders fall with defeat, her arms drop, and she removes her overnight bag from her shoulder, dropping it onto the floor with a thud. “Makes sense. You're right.” She nods as if she's convincing herself. “You know, I don't really feel like a milkshake anymore. Let's just go, so I can take you home and come back. I'm really tired.”

  “Eva,” I begin, wanting to change her mind and fix however I messed up.

  “Are you even sure you want to be with me?” she blurts out. “Have we been together long enough for you to make that kind of decision? I mean, if moving in together seems absolutely ridiculous to you, then how ca
n you say you want me enough to be with me and not someone else?” Someone else as in Kelly, I'm sure.

  “It's not the same,” I try.

  “No, it's not. Moving in would be an easier decision, not a harder one!” I've never really seen Eva pissed. I've seen her happy, grouchy, annoyed, and nervous. Never angry. Her fists are clenched by her sides, her body is entirely too still, and she's watching me with narrowed eyes, waiting for my next mistake. “I can't believe you would say that. Not after everything else, that we're not serious enough? Are you kidding me, Emerson? Just,” she huffs. “Go wait for me outside, please. I'll be out in a few minutes to take you home.”

  A glance at Catherine shows me she looks uncomfortable and maybe a little guilty for causing an argument to result from her simple question. I want to say something, to defend what I said, but I decide it can wait a few more minutes. Nodding, I stand and walk out of the room and outside.

  My impulse answer does seem stupid when I think about Eva's perspective. If I can say goodbye to Kelly for good for her, why wouldn't I be willing to move in with her? The cold air gives me goose bumps and I rub my arms to warm up. My word choice seems poor as well. It's not that we aren't serious enough, but we haven't reached that point. But then, if I were Eva, would I believe we had since I closed the door on Kelly? That was huge, we both know it, so does it mean something as big as moving in should be easier? Smaller to take in?

  Five minutes pass and I'm about to go check on her when I hear Glen call my name. I turn to see him walking toward me, looking as pissed as Eva did when I left her.

  “What the fuck did you do, man?”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “Eva called, all upset, and asked if I would take you back home for her.”

  My stomach drops. I glance back at the door to the building as if she would appear at any second. “She did?” It's like a punch to my gut. All I wanted to do was see her and spend time with her. How the hell did I get to this point? To where she doesn't even want to spend all of three minutes in the car with me. I run my hand through my hair, clutching a handful in frustration. “Damn it. Let me talk to her.”