~ Nick
“Okay,” I breathe against her skin. “Now we really need to get up.”
Emma groans, rolling into my side as she mumbles, “I don’t know if I can even move at this point.”
I laugh as her stomach rumbles. “Yes, you can. And besides, we both need food.”
“Mmmm,” she murmurs, burrowing closer.
I take a deep breath, slowly releasing it as I slide my hands up her back. “Come on,” I whisper, my mouth at her ear. “Let’s go eat.”
She grumbles something I don’t catch as I roll away from her, forcing myself into the sitting position. Truth be told, I’d love nothing more than to stay in bed all day with her, but I also want to prove that this is more than that. That we are more than just a physical connection between two people and this isn’t a random hook-up like she thought it was.
I have to ignore the voice in my head telling me that was all I wanted once and that after everything that happened, I don’t deserve even that, let alone something more.
Have to force it silent just so I can stop myself from feeling guilty about it all, too.
“Come on sleepy,” I say, standing. I lean down to press a kiss against her shoulder before pulling her up and into a hug, kissing her cheeks until she opens her eyes.
“It’s my day off,” she mumbles, resting her cheek against my chest.
I can’t help but laugh. “I know,” I tell her. “And you’re not spending the whole day sleeping.”
I’m sure this is what she normally does on her days off, and between that and work, it kinda makes sense that she feels like she has no life. It’s probably half the reason she’s so unhappy.
“Do you need another shower,” I ask, brushing back her hair.
She finally opens her eyes and looks up at me. “No, I think I’m good.”
I smile, lean in and kiss her nose. “Then get dressed lazy bones.”
We eventually make it downstairs, both of us shivering as we walk out into the cold winter day. Grey clouds threaten rain, but it hasn’t started yet. I pull Emma close and we walk away from the bar and down the street to my favourite coffee shop.
Inside we choose the couches by the fire, the late Monday lunch hour meaning most people are back at work and the place is only half-full. A waitress who recognises me comes and takes our order before disappearing again.
“Seems like they know you here,” Emma says, half turning to face me.
I shrug. “Yeah, I come here a bit.”
She smiles. “A lot it seems, she knew your order.”
I watch her, trying to work out where she’s going with this or if maybe I’m just reading too much into it all. The waitress returns with our coffees and asks about the bar and how things are going. I can feel Emma watching us the whole time, but I can’t see the look on her face to know what she’s thinking. When the waitress eventually disappears, I turn back to her, my arm across the back of the couch, my fingers resting on her shoulder.
“What?”
She glances towards the counter before turning back to me. “Nothing.”
I slide closer so my fingers are resting on her neck. Emma reaches for her coffee and I watch her lift the cup to her mouth, my thumb running over the bumps in her spine as she takes a few more sips before putting the cup back on the table. My fingers close around her neck now, bringing her closer as I lean in and press a kiss to her mouth.
“I can hear your brain ticking over you know,” I whisper.
When I pull back, Emma looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “I just…” she pauses as though unsure if she should continue. I brush my thumb against her skin again. “I just feel like there’s so much about you I don’t know,” she eventually says.
“What do you mean?”
She bites her bottom lip, shrugging as she mumbles, “We’ve slept together, seen each other naked, but I feel like I barely know you.”
I can’t help but laugh, especially as her cheeks redden. “That’s a prerequisite huh?”
She shrugs, her blush deepening. “No, I don’t know. I just…”
“Em, relax.” I say, kissing her cheek. “You know a lot about me. You knew a lot about me from that night in the bar. All before the naked part.”
“I did?” she asks, glancing up.
“Yes,” I whisper, kissing her. “You did. But if it makes you feel better, what else do you want to know?”
She stares up at me for a second or two before finally saying, “What would you be doing today if I wasn’t here?”
“Don’t know,” I say. “Go to the gym, catch up on some TV, maybe see some friends tonight. Why, what would you be doing?”
“Studying,” she immediately says.
“Why?” I ask, confused. “I thought you’d finished studying?”
She shakes her head. “Not quite.”
“But you are a doctor?”
She nods. “I am, but to get fully certified, you need to take some final exams. Mine are next year.”
“Wow, must be hard exams?”
She shrugs.
“Okay, what else?”
Our food arrives and the waitress doesn’t stay this time. Eventually Emma turns and asks, “I don’t know, how old are you, what’s your favourite movie, favourite food, what kind of music do you like, how long have you had Oscar?”
I laugh, reaching for my coffee. “Um, I’m twenty-eight, too many favourites to pick just one but I do love sci-fi and action movies, Italian, varied music tastes and about a year.”
Emma nods at each of my answers, as though she’s mentally checking off some sort of list. I wonder if maybe I can’t get a question or two in myself, risking it with, “Have you given any more thought to the medicine thing?” Emma shoots me a questioning look, but it’s not enough to stop me. “ER, internal medicine,” I add. “Something else entirely?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head.
“I saw you kept the list though,” I continue, fingers stroking her neck.
She nods. “What’s the other guy who works in your bar called?”
I chuckle as I get that message that I’m the one facing the questioning here. “Tony.”
“Has he worked for you for long?”
I nod. “Ever since we opened,” I say. “But we’ve been friends for longer.”
The questions continue as we eat, but they are safe, everyday kind of things. Emma asks me where I grew up, when I opened the bar, if I’ve ever broken a bone. It feels like she’s avoiding anything too personal, but at the same time, as though she’s slowly working her way up to it too.
After we’ve eaten, I silence the questions for a while by taking her to see a movie. It’s one of those action superhero movies I like of which I am absolutely certain she has not seen and probably never even knew existed. It doesn’t matter though because we spend the majority of it sitting up the back of an empty theatre making out like a couple of teenagers.
The questions start up again as I drag her around the supermarket though. And continue all through the taxi ride home and the entire time we cook dinner and eat it. It’s not until later, when we find ourselves back in bed, that she finally exhales and stops.
“What, you’re done now?” I ask, dragging my fingers slowly down her spine.
She’s lying on her stomach beside me, her head resting on the pillow as she watches me.
“Em,” I say, running my hands through her hair. “No more questions?”
Her eyes are focused on my chest, on the word that’s tattooed there and it’s only then that I understand what she’s been working towards. I can already feel the knot of tension forming in my stomach.
She exhales, one hand sliding out from underneath her body to run across my collarbone. “How come you were so nice to me that night?” she whispers.
It’s not the question I thought she’d ask and for a second it surprises me. I watch as her eyes follow the path of her fingers before finally lifting to mine. When our eyes meet, I know that regardless of how it sounds, I need to tell her the truth on this one. That saying something cheesy about how beautiful she is or whatever will not be the right answer.
Even if the beautiful part is true, it’s still not the reason for any of the things that happened that night.
Not the reason I found myself wanting to talk to her.
“Because,” I eventually whisper, the word floating between us in the darkness of my apartment. “You looked so sad and in pain.” I watch as she listens to me, her face unreadable in the almost darkness. “And it was…it was everything I could relate to,” I continue, wondering just how much of this she will understand and how much will offend her.
Emma nods ever so slightly as her fingers now brush across the letters, telling me how much she gets what I just said. “Which one of you is older?” she whispers.
I swallow hard, not wanting to do this. “Me,” I say. “By three minutes.”
“You’re twins?” she asks, surprised.
I nod. “We were.”
Emma slides closer, rolling onto her side so we are lying face to face, sharing the same pillow, the same air. “You are,” she whispers, brushing her lips against mine. “Her being gone doesn’t and won’t ever change that, Nick.”
My heart crashes against my ribcage as my mouth crashes against hers. I wish I could explain to her that this might not be the reason I was so nice to her that night, but could very well be the reason for everything I want to happen from this night onwards.
The reason I’m breaking my rule and ignoring the voice that’s screaming at me to stop this because she deserves so much more than me.
But I don’t say anything, because I can’t.
But fuck me if I don’t want her even more now.