Page 69 of Emerson

He slept with his arms around me.

I pause in the hallway, covering my smile.

Be cool. Be cool. Be cool.

Dillon is older. I can not go in there giddy like a damn loser. I have to show him that I can be fucking cool about this. Mature. Mature enough for him to kiss me again. And then preferably keep on kissing me for eternity.

He's not hard to find.

And it takes one look from him to pop each fucking bubble and send me free falling back to earth.

He looks like he hasn't slept at all. Dark circles frame his beautiful blue eyes, and so much is pooling in their depths. So much that it freezes my feet where I stand.

He's sitting on his couch, elbows braced on his legs and his fingers steepled in front of the mouth that was on mine just last night.

“Dillon? What's wrong?” It doesn't even occur to me that I could be what's wrong. Maybe it's the hangover, or maybe it's the fact that I went to sleep with him pressed against me, but for some reason, I'm not prepared. Not at all.

“Last night never should have happened, Emerson.”

One sentence, sharper than any blade. Every stitch of hope I had just thirty second ago unravels in an instant.

“What?” I straighten my spine but force a laugh. “It was just a kiss.”

Dillon scrubs his face, then lets his hands drop to dangle between his knees. “Doesn't matter. It shouldn't have happened.”

“Why not?” I snap. My chest aches, and humiliation is seeping in.

I'm so fucking stupid.

“I had a shitty fucking day yesterday, Emerson. The last goddamn thing I needed to do was get wasted and make more fucked up choices.”

I step back. But he must not see how sharp his words are because he slides the blade into my guts and twists.

“You'd be a great fuck, okay? I guarantee it. But that's all you'd be, Emerson. And I can't afford just great fucks right now. It's all fun and games in the dark, but there are real life consequences when daylight catches us.”

I don't blink, scared that if I do, the dam keeping me together will break.

That's all you'd be.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

He looks down at his hands and shakes his head. His eyes look shiny when he looks back up at me, and the smile on his face is raw and fake.

“I got a call yesterday morning. Guess I'm going to be a dad.”

I half expected the table to be gone from underneath the window when I got to it. Or the window itself to be boarded up completely to keep me the hell out. It’s too easy to climb inside—muscle memory now. I know the easiest way in, the easiest way back out.

It’s been so easy. But it’s not even seven o’clock in the evening when I pull myself up to climb through, and I feel fucking stupid with the low-hanging sunlight beating down on me while I hesitate for a fraction of a thought.

Broken, partial pleas from my subconscious to turn around and go back home have been on a constant loop since I left the salon. I went home. I took a shower, pretended this isn’t where I wanted to be.

Here I fucking am anyway, and he’s not in here.

Why would he be? It’s not late.

I’m breaking my own stupid rules.

No daylight.