Will

Will looked like he’d lost a fight with his mattress when he woke up the next morning. His thick dark hair was sticking up in every direction and his gray t-shirt was disheveled. He hadn’t slept well and he knew the reason why—women.

Between trying to get Liz to leave after dinner and spending the rest of the night messaging Emma, Will was beyond frustrated. He kept reliving their near mistletoe moment. He hadn’t been able to get Emma out of his head last night. And sadly, it seemed today would be no different.

Will quickly hopped in the shower to wash away the remains of his restless night, but he knew he would be left with the look of hurt he’d seen smoldering in Emma’s eyes before she stormed off last night. And the worst part was, if the elevator doors had opened five seconds later, he would’ve been kissing Emma, and probably had a restless night for an entirely different reason.

Scrubbing his hair vigorously, Will wished he were taking a cold shower for the usual reasons, rather than to calm the anger that was bubbling inside of him. How could he be this stupid? He was supposed to be over Emma by now. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t go down this road again. She’d hurt him enough. 

If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was Will. Emma was the one who stood him up at the winter formal last year. She should be the one left wanting for a change. But it seemed Emma would forever be the one shutting Will down.

He stood under the cold water for as long as he could take, but it didn’t help. His mind kept wandering back to their almost kiss. He still had no idea how things had gone from perfect to poisonous in under five seconds and it was driving him insane.

Will cranked off the faucet and toweled his hair dry while throwing together an overnight bag for Cranston’s, along with a shirt and tie—a prerequisite for any Cranston soiree. Next he donned jeans, a t-shirt and light blue sweater. The sweater was an early Christmas gift from his mother, just one more sign she probably wasn’t coming home for the holidays. At least she’d gotten the color right—Glacier blue, the exact shade of Will’s eyes.

He glanced in the mirror and winked at his reflection. He’d perfected looking like a million bucks even when his heart felt like road kill. He put on his game face, determined not to let his parents or Emma ruin his day. Maybe if he could just avoid Emma until the party tonight they would both be calm enough to have a civil discussion. Because despite how many times Will told himself he was over her, he knew it wasn’t true. And it never would be until he found out what the hell happened last year.

Emma

Emma woke with a start. Something wet coated her face as the room filled with noise. She opened her eyes, pinpointing the something wet as Hodor’s slober. His panting tongue was inches from her face and Colin was standing next to him wearing Batman pajamas, cowboy boots and a ridiculous smile.

“Morning, Emma. Wanna watch cartoons with us?”

Emma rubbed her eyes groggily and looked around. “Us?”

“Me and Hodor.”

“What time is it?”

Colin shrugged, but then shouted to the room. “Penelope. What time is it?”

“The time is 6:11 am, eastern standard time,” the disembodied female voice replied.

Emma growled and pulled her blanket over her head.

“What cartoons do you like?” Colin asked, poking her in the shoulder.

“The kind that don’t start until noon,” she grumbled.

Colin laughed. “You’re funny.”

Emma felt him nestle next to her feet on the couch and she lost all hope that he would leave if she ignored him long enough. Colin settled on something called ‘The Loud House’, which was quickly living up to its name. Emma flung off her covers, grabbed her cell phone and stomped to the bathroom.

“Might as well start my day,” she mumbled to herself.

 

* * *

 

A hot shower and fresh clothes did help improve her mood. Emma was just adding the finishing touches to her hair and makeup while rocking out to her divas playlist on Spotify when she got a Snapchat notification. She clicked on it and her heart dropped. It was a photo of Liz and Will from last night. Liz was sitting entirely too close and feeding him pasta. The caption over the photo read: MINE.

Emma clicked on Liz’s story. It was filled with photos of her and Will from last night. She knew she shouldn’t look, but she couldn’t stop herself and each new caption was like a punch to the gut.

DINNER WITH BOO, was the caption over the same pasta feeding pic Liz had sent directly to Emma. SNUGGLES, was typed over a pic of feet under a blanket. And the nail in the coffin was a photo of Will’s lips poised for a kiss. Liz’s perfectly manicured red claws were on either side of his lips and the caption read, THIS FACE IS PERFECTION.

Suddenly Emma felt ill. How had she been so stupid? She’d been seconds away from kissing Will yesterday. And she couldn’t believe she’d spent the whole night tossing and turning over him. She’d actually felt bad about storming off after seeing Liz. Emma had let herself believe that maybe she’d overreacted and should give Will a chance to explain. But Liz’s pictures did all the explaining Emma needed. Will was still the same sleaze ball he’d always been, and apparently Emma was the same sappy moron, ready to fall for him again.