“I DON’T WANT TO DO it.” Emery moans, her head falling back and hitting my shoulder. “Why are you making me?”
I’m kneading into her shoulders, massaging her stiff muscles. We’ve been back in Florida for a few days. Only staying in California long enough to pack up my stuff so the movers could bring everything here.
I thought I was going to feel a little something about leaving, but after the boxes were cleared and my place was barren, I felt as empty as the house looked. As we were leaving, almost out the door, I turned off the light in the foyer and when the room went dark, my time there was over.
Since coming back, I’ve upped my workout routine in the mornings, logging in countless hours, more than I had been, staying in the water until my skin prunes.
And Emery, since she wants to get back on the scene and truly be ready for it, has been working out with me. No more surfing in secret for her.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t as in shape as we thought.
She’s been sore and aching and doesn’t stop complaining until I get to work on her muscles. An activity she takes great pleasure in.
My girl likes having me at her mercy.
“I’m not making you do anything, I’m just telling you that it’s probably better if you told your parents today, you know, since they think you’re going back to school tomorrow.”
“They’ve been out of town since the day after New Year’s. I can’t ruin their first day back in town,” she argues. Her mom had a conference to go to and Ren went along now that Emery isn’t on lock-down.
Things still aren’t the best between them, but she’s been talking to them every day and that’s been an improvement.
“Emery,” I say, digging my elbow into one of the tighter muscles on her back.
She’s been using the same excuse all day, hiding behind it and pushing the issue away. But since she’s not going back to college, she’ll be living with her parents and they’re going to notice that their daughter is at home and not in Orlando like her best friend. They’re not dense. So she’s going to have to suck it up and stop with her avoidance.
“I know, I know, Surfer Boy.” Her sigh quickly turns into a moan from my elbow. “I just don’t want them to be mad at me.”
“They’ll be more mad at you tomorrow when you don’t actually go to school.”
“What if I tell them I’m doing online classes?”
Now it’s my turn to sigh, shaking my head down at her. “Do I need to remind you of Christmas? When you didn’t tell them about surfing and they grounded you?”
She grumbles something I can’t hear before saying, “I still can’t believe they grounded me at nineteen.”
I can’t either, but then again, having parents who care and worry about their child is such a strange concept to me.
But that’s the kind of parent I want to be. A parent who gives a double damn about his children.
You know, one day in the far, far, way far off untouchable future.
Looking down at Emery, I see my exhaustion reflected in her. These past few weeks have been hard and I can’t help but push her to face one more hardship.
“Sure you don’t want me to go with you?” I ask for the third or fourth time. So far, her answer hasn’t changed.
She needs to do it by herself. Just like with her surfing, this conversation is between her and her parents.
Em shakes her head, confirming what I already know. “I’m sure.”
Conceding, I remind her. “You can come back over after and I’ll have sushi waiting for you.”
She pulls away, peering up at me, interest showing on her face.
I smile. She’ll agree to pretty much anything for food, especially if it’s one of her favorites.
“And a movie?”
“All the movies you added to my movie queue.” There’s over ten that she added on the flight home from California. She gave me shit for not seeing any of them. God forbid I haven’t seen any cheesy romantic movies from the early 2000s.
“Will you drop me off?” she concedes.
“Nah,” I tell her. “Since your car’s not here I thought I’d just let you walk.”
She backhands my chest, softly. “Ass.”
I laugh, squeezing one of her ass cheeks.
She pulls away from me with a glare. “No, no, no!” Her glare is coupled with head shaking. “You don’t get to go from talking me into telling my parents to feeling me up. Do you want me to get this done or not?”
“I’d rather be doing you right now, but sometimes we have to be adults.”
“Ha-ha, aren’t you funny,” she deadpans.
“You think I’m pretty funny.” I try to reach for her, but she moves further away and out of my reach.
“You think you’re funny. I provide pity laughs.” She folds her arms over her chest as she stands above me, her glare firmly in place.
“Did you also give me a pity orgasm this morning?” I grin.
She’s not amused as she turns around, walking down the hallway to the garage. As she goes, she calls over her shoulder, “Grab your keys, Bash. And I want sushi on your naked body when I come back.”