Let Loose for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  The thought of her sitting on her couch in her short pajama set with the silky camisole makes me smile. My phone vibrates with a message from her, and my smile only widens, my closed-off heart cracking a little more.

  Emma: Red lace panties and a matching push-up bra. Want to see?

  Ty: Really?

  Emma: No, you fuckwad.

  Damn if she doesn’t make me throw my head back and laugh—it’s just what I needed.

  Emma: Why don’t you go mix a protein shake and leave me alone, thanks.

  I chuckle, wondering if that cute blush is creeping down her neck.

  I know I should do as she says and leave her alone. It would be best for both of us.

  But I’m not exactly known for doing the right thing.

  CHAPTER 18

  Emma

  “Hey Dad, it’s Emma.” I balance the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Call me back when you get a chance.” I push the red button to end the voicemail, not surprised that he didn’t pick up.

  He has his hands full with work and his real family.

  I grab a protein bar out of the cabinet, then make a note on the fridge to buy more from the store later. Kendall makes fun of this list, but when she starts doing the grocery shopping, we’ll do it her way.

  But I know that’ll never happen. I always go. Sometimes she tags along but ends up sitting at Starbucks to answer comments and messages on her Instagram—the life of a fitness influencer.

  Settling on the couch with my laptop, I check my own social media and make a few notes for post ideas in the coming days. I like to schedule some ahead of time.

  Nibbling on my snack, I check my new text from Ty.

  He’s been texting me nonstop since the big double date three weeks ago. Sometimes funny memes, links to workout fails, then confessions of his heart.

  Well… the only kind of confessions his immature mind is capable of, anyway. Like his obsession with peanut butter, raisin, and cheese sandwiches with a glass of Merlot. It’s gross but endearing in a way I didn’t expect. He also told me about his need to park as far as possible from the grocery store, gym, and mall to get those extra steps in, which I do as well, but I didn’t tell him that. No need to let him think we have anything in common.

  Ty: I tried getting into crow pose all on my own and fell over. I think I chipped a tooth. Lmao.

  I carefully set my protein bar on the coffee table, making sure the wrapper contains the crumbs, and type out a reply.

  Me: You should definitely wait for adult supervision next time.

  Ty: What I need is YOUR supervision. You have magic hands, girl.

  Me: And they can do a lot more than work as a spotter…

  Ty: Emma Jones, are you flirting with me???

  My face reddens, because I am definitely flirting with Ty. Right? What else can I call what I just said to him? I slap my palm to my forehead repeatedly, trying to bang an idea into my head of how to get out of this before Ty’s horny teenager brain blows this out of proportion.

  Ty: Please say yes. If you say no, you’ll break my heart, and I already have a broken tooth.

  Ty: Say YES.

  My head rolls back, a laugh bubbling deep in my throat as I picture him dancing around his living room with a crown on his head. He has to have a crown, right?

  Me: MAYBE.

  Ty: I knew it! I knew you liked me!

  Me: Go ahead, get your crown out.

  Ty: Minion Mic Drop GIF

  Smiling slightly, I set my phone on the bed and strip down to take a shower. I turn the hot water on, letting the steam fill the bathroom. As I wash, I don’t think of Ty or Brant or Mason or the way Bailey talked about Mason today as if in awe. I hum “Angel Eyes” by ABBA to myself as the hot water stings my skin, relaxing my muscles and my mind.

  Until I get to my breasts and feel something off.

  A lump.

  A lump which wasn’t there before.

  My heart stops.

  I turn the water off, soap still running down my left side, my hand massaging my breast to make sure I’m not panicking for no reason.

  But after ten full minutes of feeling around, there’s no mistake.

  I move robotically to the phone to call my doctor. I barely register anything the receptionist says, only jotting down the time of the appointment in two days on my mirror.

  I don’t register when Kendall comes in, or the new text on my phone. I don’t hear anything other than the lump on my chest like it has a beating heart of its own.

  CHAPTER 19

  Ty

  I grab my mat out of the passenger’s seat but stop with one leg out of my car when I notice Emma still in hers. She stares blankly out of her windshield; she doesn’t even blink. I knock on the window, startling her, then open her passenger side door.

  She laughs humorlessly and leans her elbow on her window, turning away from me. “Of course. Of course, you’re here. Why are you here?”

  I hold my mat up. “It’s yoga time with my favorite—what do you call yourselves? Yogis? How long before I can call myself that?”

  Her lip twitches, but she continues to stare out the windshield. “I canceled class this afternoon. Sorry to have wasted your time. I need to go, so…” She glances toward the door on my right.

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, not a chance. You’re leaving.”

  I throw my mat into her back seat and settle in.

  “Get out of my fucking car.”

  “Nope.” I pop the P, the red tint in her cheeks locked and loaded. I imagine her exploding with a long string of curse words any second now.

  But when she doesn’t say anything else, I squint, studying her blank stare. Something’s wrong.

  After a long pause, she speaks up again. “Ty.” Her voice is sad and trembling, and it’s breaking what’s left of my fucking heart. Her teary gaze turns to me. “You can’t come with me.”

  “Em, what’s going on?” I ask, all humor sucked out of the car through the cracks, floating in the wind.

  She exhales and runs a hand down her face, which is free of makeup except for a soft coat of mascara on her eyelashes. It’s unusual for her to be without makeup. The circles under her eyes have me worried. “I have a doctor’s appointment to get a lump on my breast examined. So if you could please—”

  “I’m definitely coming with you.” Panic seizes my entire body like I haven’t experienced since the night the policemen visited my house with news of my sister.

  I instinctively grab her hand and squeeze it. I may give her a lot of shit, but she needs a friend right now. I want to be that friend.

  From the looks of it, from the way she squeezes my hand back, I’m all she has right now.

  Sighing, she reluctantly puts the car in reverse.

  We’re silent the whole way to the doctor’s office, my heart lurching in my chest as she puts the car in park. I have so many questions for her. When did she find the lump? What did the doctor say it could be? Why is she here alone?

  If I hadn’t missed the memo that class was canceled today—I’m usually more meticulous than that—she would’ve come alone. The idea crushes me.

  “Wait here.” She grips the steering wheel with a faraway look again.

  “Hey, I can go in with you.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she says weakly, cracking a small smile. “Thank you for being annoying and insisting you come. But I’ll be quick.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  She grabs her purse from the floorboard behind her. “I’ll be in and out… like the burger.”

  I’m so caught up in making her feel cared for, I almost miss her joke. Her nervous laughter gets me. I release the pent-up tension in my body as well, laughing along with her. “You made a joke.”

  “I was due for one. Not much of a jokester, I guess.” Something takes over her expression. Confusion? Regret? I’ve caught glimpses of so many emotions from her the last half hour I’m dizzy.

  Excep
t a genuine, free smile. I haven’t seen one of those yet.

  Which gives me an idea.

  Emma: Where are you?

  I pull her car up to the front of the office door where she stands hugging her purse. When she sees me, her face scrunches up, and I’m positive I’m about to get yelled at. I reach for her door, but she yanks it open before I get the chance.

  Before her ass hits the seat, she chides me. “I did not say you could drive my car. What the hell are you thinking? You just—what smells?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Did you eat in my car? For the love of God, Ty, tell me you did not eat in my car.”

  I pull over to the side of the parking lot, then reach for the white paper bag with a large yellow arrow and red letters on it. “For you, my lady.”

  Her expression softens. “In-N-Out Burger?”

  “I got the Double-Double, protein-style.” I hold up the cup in the cupholder. “And a shake.”

  “Where’s your shake?”

  I take a sip out of it. “We share this one. Half the calories.”

  A small smile plays at her lips, and I think I’ve finally done it—made her smile—but it vanishes before I can really tell.

  “And now I drive you home while you eat in your car like a normal person. Seriously, who in the world has a car this spotless? I mean, not a speck of dust.”

  Peeling out of the doctor’s office, I want to ask her how it went, what they said, what they found. But I wait and let her indulge in the greasy food the only way she knows how. She takes small bites and makes sure to spread all the napkins they gave me in her lap to make sure she doesn’t get any sauce on herself or the car.

  I admire her in my periphery and then full-on gawk when I come to a red light. There’s a tension in her shoulders, but she seems otherwise content.

  When we reach her apartment, I open my mouth, but she speaks first. “It’s benign. The lump, it’s benign.” She nods, pointing to her breast. The breast I’ve spent many hours at yoga staring at, never imagining what was going on underneath. “It’s fibrocystic. Apparently, it’s pretty common. They gave me some tips and suggested I take B6 vitamins for the soreness. Other than that, I just need to keep an eye on it, get checked once or twice a year and whatnot.”

  Tears form in her eyes as she speaks, as though she’s relaying bad news. “That’s good, right?” My voice cracks, afraid of this conversation.

  She wipes at a tear and studies her lap covered in napkins and wrappers. “Yes. Definitely good news. It just scared me.” She licks her lips, then whispers, “It scared me, you know.”

  I gulp in response.

  I do know, because it scared the fuck out of me too.

  I hadn’t taken an easy breath for over an hour, waiting impatiently to know what they said.

  The only sound between us is the bag and wrappers crinkling with every move she makes as she cleans up. She even pulls Lysol wipes out of the glove box and wipes down around her.

  The thought of anything happening to Emma—strong, independent, beautiful Emma—is enough to cripple me. I want to hug her, to kiss away her tears and fears, to emphasize that everything’s okay. The urge to do so is overwhelming.

  But the words don’t come.

  Dread fills the pit of my stomach, because I want to believe everything’s fine. That she’s okay and healthy.

  But sometimes, living through what I’ve lived through, it’s hard to fully convince myself of this.

  I shake myself out of it, willing myself to at least get the door for her, because right now, Emma needs strong. She needs comfort and confidence. I can give her that. Even if it means I pull myself into a ball and hold myself later.

  Right now, I want to be here for Emma, a woman I’m not even dating.

  A woman who doesn’t even like me most of the time.

  But as I help her out of the car, her hand in mine, I realize being with her feels natural, something I’ve never experienced with a woman before.

  Something I’m afraid I’ll want more of if I’m not careful.

  CHAPTER 20

  Emma

  “I can get it. I’m not incapable.” I grab the knob to my bedroom door before Ty has a chance. “The doctor said I have nothing to worry about. It’s common.”

  He held doors open, drove me, and squeezed my hand the whole way to the doctor’s office and back. I lighten my tone, knowing he’s trying to help me. But I’m just not used to other people—especially Ty—taking care of me. I’ve been independent my whole life, which is why I was going to take myself to the doctor before Ty barged into my car like he did my life all those months ago.

  He exhales heavily, resting his hands on his head. Indecision mars his usually carefree expression, like he doesn’t believe me or the doctor who went to school for a million years that I’m fine. “Let me draw you a bath.” He follows me into my room and heads straight for my bathroom like he’s comfortable here.

  Like he belongs here.

  “A bath? No, Ty. You’ve seriously done more than enough.” My voice is drowned out as the water runs. With every inch that’s filled, the walls around my heart slowly fall, watching his large frame lean over the small tub to adjust the temperature accordingly.

  His back strains against his shirt.

  His purple boxers peek over his taut ass when his shirt lifts.

  I cross my arms like it’ll help distance me from him, but I know it’s no use.

  Not when he’s being like this, a sexy and charming guy who wants to take care of me.

  He turns the water off when the tub is full. “You have any candles? Wine? Whatever girly shit I can add to make you comfortable?”

  I giggle, but he’s not smiling. Not even a little. I clear my throat. “This is great.” I hold up my phone. “All I need is Pandora with my ABBA playlist. Although…” I rummage underneath my sink and pull out an unused coconut candle that came with my bottle of lotion.

  Lighting the candle, I bite my lip, unsure how to express my gratitude when the nicest thing I’ve said to him since I met him is “your shirt isn’t as wrinkled today.”

  He shifts from one foot to the other and shoves his hands in his pockets, his nostrils flaring like he’s hungry and I’m holding up a bowl of ice cream. “Smells good, just like you.” He pauses. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  I’m about to ask if he’s leaving, but of course he is. What did I expect? For him to wait outside on the couch and have dinner ready for me by the time I was done?

  This is merely a sweet gesture, a peace offering, even. One to initiate a truce.

  For now.

  I nod, hugging my body to contain the swelling of my heart.

  Then it hits me. “Wait.” I hold his forearm, my fingers wrapping around his feather tattoo there. “Your car is still at my studio. Let me give you a ride.”

  “I’ll Uber. It’s no problem.”

  With a tight-lipped smile, he steps out, brushing my chest along the way since this bathroom is so small. When he closes the door behind him, I exhale. The bathroom seems bigger without him inside it. It’s lonelier. Emptier.

  I take a deep breath, not allowing myself to think about how lonely I’ve been lately.

  And how incredibly thoughtful Ty has been today—a soft side to him that I didn’t know existed.

  For almost an hour, I allow myself this luxury. To soak in the warm water with seventies pop music in the background, instead of worrying about all the things I need to do for work. After a few songs, I switch to my soft sounds of yoga, which then lull me to sleep.

  Such a deep sleep I don’t hear the front door open.

  I don’t hear the bathroom door open, even though the creak is usually audible—annoyingly so, even.

  I’m in a state of such bliss I almost don’t hear Ty’s raspy whisper, “Hey Em…”

  “Hmmm?” My eyes flutter open, the realization dawning on me that I’m completely naked. There are barely any suds left to cover me up, and Ty is three feet from me, his h
ead poking in through the bathroom door.

  “I brought you some… um…” He licks his lips, his gaze on my face before it trails farther south.

  I don’t move to cover myself up, my body on fire under his searing gaze.

  He gulps, and I’m hotter still, even hotter than when I first submerged myself in the tub.

  “Wow, Em.” He opens the door more fully to step inside before closing it again. Licking his lips once more, he sets a bottle of wine on the counter with a soft thud and grabs a clean towel from the rack. He leans back against the door, clutching the towel to his chest like he forgot his next move.

  We stay like this in silence for a few more moments, watching each other. Studying each other. He scrutinizes me with awe and appreciation.

  Like he gets me.

  Every curve. Scar. Hair out of place. All of it.

  And beyond that, he seems to like it.

  He pushes off the door, holding the towel out, ready to wrap me in it. His gaze never leaves mine as I stand, not embarrassed. Not shy or disgusted.

  Rather, empowered. Because the way he looks at me, with his hooded gaze, shows me I have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about.

  We may be enemies, but right now, I’m not sure where the love-hate line exists. If it exists at all.

  I hold my arms out to my sides as we stand face-to-face. Once he wraps the towel underneath them to cover me up, his hands don’t leave the towel. Instead, they rest on my waist, his thumbs moving in circles, making me wish this towel wasn’t separating us at all.

  I open my mouth to speak, to say thank you, to ask him to step out while I dress—anything logical Emma would do—but the words are caught in my throat. Cast overboard into the tub he so thoughtfully filled for me.

  At this moment, I forget I’m supposed to dislike him.

  That he’s wrong for me.

  The longer I gaze into his blue eyes, the more I start to think maybe he isn’t so wrong after all.

  “What is it, Em?” His eyes beg for an answer. For a green light. For affirmation of some kind. “What do you need?”