Page 9 of Riding the Curve

“Hen—”

“I’ve got this!” I hiss.

“Hen, stop,” he whispers.

“Emerson, just let me⁠—”

His palm wraps forcefully around my wrist, jolting me to a stop. That’s when I notice his other palm gripping the armrest like his life depends on it, and the pained expression etched across his face. Emerson’s eyes slowly roll down to my hands. The ones that are currently pressing against the bulge between his thighs.

The very hard bulge.

My lips part as his retreat between his teeth. He’s desperately trying to focus on the roof of the plane rather than me.

“Oh.” The whisper leaves my lips, the pieces of the situation slowly clicking in place. “Oh . . . Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

I immediately whip my hand back into my lap.

Emerson smooths a palm over his face with a breathy laugh. “Still causing trouble, I see?”

Mortified, I cocoon my head inside my hands. The play on the nickname he gave me all those years doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Here’s another mimosa, ma’am.”

I can’t look up or reach out my hand. Emerson collects my drink, lowers my tray, and slides the glass in front of me. Grasping it with both hands, I chug it down before he even takes a sip of his own.

“I think we are both going to need another.” He laughs.

The attendant shakes her head and goes back to pour our second round.

Somewhere between the third or fourth mimosa, I find some semblance of relaxation. I can’t bring myself to say anything to Emerson. What could I possibly say to the man after what I’ve just done?

It’s best to just pretend the whole thing never happened. Kind of like I’ve been doing for the past seven years, after our last interaction. I’ve always been good at pretending with Emerson. Pretending I’m not attracted to him. Pretending my eyes aren’t always drawn toward him. Pretending my heart didn’t shatter into a thousand pieces when he pushed me away after finally letting me in. Why not add one more embarrassing moment to the pile I’ve buried away?

Glancing at him through my lashes, I watch Emerson quietly scroll through his phone. My gaze rolls slowly over his body and I become entranced. His thumb rests underneath his chin as his index finger slowly runs back and forth across his plump bottom lip. I wet my lips, thinking about a time when those fingers brushed against my own. Though we’ve only ever shared a kiss, I haven’t been able to erase it from my memory.

Our pasts are so woven together that even after all this time and all the hurt, my heart still flutters in his presence. Emerson was the friend who always knew the right things to say. The one who made me feel safe enough to always let my guard down. Just some of the many reasons why I started to look at him in a different light when we were both older.

We spent so much time together over the years that we both knew each other inside out. So even after not talking for seven years, there is still such a strong feeling of familiarity as I sit beside him. After the recent events I’ve endured, he’s strangely giving me a small sense of comfort. I’m afraid I’m not quite sure what to do with that emotion.

A shiver ripples through me, and I quickly redirect my attention to searching for my headphones. Once I feel them in my hand, I shove them over my ears and blast the music as loud as I can bear. Nothing like a little Sleep Token to calm the storm of emotions swirling within me.

Burrowing into the hood of my sweatshirt and staring out the window, I allow myself to fade off to sleep somewhere between getting lost in the lyrics and focusing on the clouds drifting over the wings of the plane. If I’m lucky, when I wake this will all be over. Just like the last time.

CHAPTER 4

Henley

SEVEN YEARS AGO

The bonfire blazed in front of me, my gaze shifting from my Solo cup to the boy standing across from me. The one who was filling out every inch of those dark blue Wranglers he was wearing tonight. Bright blue eyes caught mine from over the rim of his cup, igniting my body in a flame more scalding than the one before me.

Truly, he was no longer a boy. Chatting with my brother and all our childhood friends was a very grown man. A man whose gaze had never held mine as long as it had tonight. Maybe tonight this man would finally realize I am also no longer that girl he used to tease. A man who might finally notice I’d grown into a woman while he’d been away. Who knows, maybe he’d actually follow through with what he attempted to do only a few short years ago.

A girl could dream, right?

Shaking off the ridiculous idea, I rose and made my way to the back of the house. Ever since he almost kissed me after my high school graduation, I couldn’t seem to get this man out of my mind. I’d obviously had one too many drinks tonight if I was still pining over Emerson Lane. What I needed now was copious amounts of water. Once I was properly hydrated, maybe I’d stop having delusional thoughts brewing in my mind.

I opened the ice chest, shoving around the various bottles of alcohol for water but coming up empty-handed. Still parched, I strolled through the back door and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. I filled up my cup under the kitchen faucet, and took a sip, admiring my friends from the window as they danced and laughed.