- Clay -
I returned home, lighter than air, in a sort of daze as I drifted through the house, toward my room, flipping my keys around my middle finger. The way Emmett watched me in the car, talking about my dad, was difficult, but he made me want to share. Even the hard stuff. I wanted to tell him everything about me.
Then he teased me about my name, bringing out his adorable, mischievous grin. I so badly wanted to kiss him before he got out of the car. I thought about it more seriously than I ever had.
But fear stopped me. Not so much fear of kissing Emmett, because I had a feeling that would be amazing. More so, fear of upsetting him. He'd made it pretty clear that he didn't want me in that way. Multiple times.
"Hey," my mother said, catching me off guard. She stood at the stove, putting the leftovers in Tupperware containers.
"Hey." I stuffed my keys into my pocket and walked over to stand beside her. I took the stack of dirty dishes from the counter and rinsed them, placing them into the dishwasher.
"I really like him," Mom said. As if I couldn't guess who she meant, she added, "Emmett. He's very sweet."
"Yeah."
Mom took the containers to the refrigerator. "You should bring him around more often."
That made me smile. "I will."
Everyone seemed to like Emmett. Even Rachel, who hated all of my other friends. Except Brandon, who she had a huge crush on. Emmett just fit right into our family, like he belonged with us.
Mom returned to my side. She put her hands on my shoulders and gave my cheek a kiss. "Goodnight, sweetheart."
"'Night, Mom."
After turning on the dishwasher, I headed into my room. I laid across the bed, my hands folded on my stomach, staring at the ceiling, imagining what might have happened if I had been bold enough to kiss Emmett. Either in the car, or in this very room. I'd wanted to both times.
Best-case scenario, Emmett would kiss me back, bringing to life all of my fantasies.
Worst case, Emmett would hate me for ruining our friendship and never talk to me again.
That, I would not risk.
As if falling for a guy wasn't confusing enough, I had chosen one who didn't even want me.
"You fucking idiot," I mumbled to myself.
I jumped when my phone dinged in my pocket and buzzed against my hip. I rolled to the side to fish it out to see the reason for the notification.
A text from Emmett. I sat up, a smile breaking across my face.
EMMETT: This is probably a stupid question since we just saw each other, but do you want to talk?
CLAY: About what?
EMMETT: 🤷♂️
EMMETT: Just feeling chatty and kinda bored.
I bit my bottom lip as I laid back again, writing a reply. Emmett could've texted Carrie, but he chose me to cure his boredom.
CLAY: How can u already be bored? I just left like 10 mins ago.
EMMETT: Never underestimate the dangerous swiftness of monotony.
CLAY: That sounds like a quote. What's it from?
EMMETT: It's only a quote in that I said it. It's not from anything except my diamond-sharp wit.
CLAY: There's that famous unparalleled Emmett humility.
EMMETT: Humble and handsome are my main identifiers.
CLAY: Hahaha. We'll have to agree to disagree abt the former.
EMMETT: So you agree that I'm handsome?
"Fuck!" I sat up and stared at the words. I didn't mean it like that. I was trying to be funny. Not that I didn't think Emmett was handsome. Emmett was the most beautiful boy I'd ever met. With those green eyes and that olive skin.
I realized it had been almost a full minute since Emmett's last text. I couldn't keep stalling. I needed to reply, if only to keep things from getting weird.
I thought I'd go for something lighthearted, to play it off as another joke.
CLAY: I refuse to answer on the basis of what it might do to ur ego.
EMMETT: I'm totally taking that as a confirmation.
CLAY: That's ur prerogative.
EMMETT: They say I'm crazy. I really don't care.
CLAY: What?
EMMETT: They say I'm nasty, but I don't give a damn.
CLAY: Who says that?
EMMETT: Getting boys is how I live.
CLAY: wtf r u talking about?
EMMETT: Everybody's talking all this stuff about me. Why don't they just let me live?
CLAY: Who's talking abt u?
EMMETT: I don't need permission. Make my own decisions.
CLAY: I guess I get that.
EMMETT: That's my prerogative!
CLAY: What the actual fuck is going on!?!?
Emmett sent a series of laughing faces, followed by a link to a Britney Spears song, called "My Prerogative." As soon as I clicked it, I knew I'd heard it before. Although the version I knew was sung by a man.
I laughed.
CLAY: U r such a dork.
EMMETT: A handsome dork?
CLAY: Fine. Yes. Ur handsome. OK? Fuck off.
EMMETT: Wanna play a game?
CLAY: Is that u, Jigsaw?
I sent a gif of the puppet riding a tricycle from Saw.
EMMETT: I hate those movies.
CLAY: I thought u liked horrible movies. Psycho was on ur poster of fave films.
CLAY: Fuck. I meant horror. Fucking auto-correct. I messed up one ducking letter.
CLAY: Fuck my whore life.
EMMETT: 🤣🤣🤣
CLAY: 🤬😤 I give up. U talk now.
EMMETT: LOL. Ok.
EMMETT: Horror, thriller, yes. I can do that. Give me Psycho, The Shining, Rosemary's Baby. I can even have fun with movies like Halloween or Scream. But watching people get tortured for two hours for no reason and almost no plot? Not so much.
CLAY: What game did u wanna play?
EMMETT: 20 questions.
CLAY: K.
We went back and forth, asking each other questions. Mostly inane stuff, like "What's your favorite color?" It was a lot of getting-to-know-you stuff we hadn't discussed before. We learned each other's birthdays, our hobbies, and our favorites in TV shows, movies, and food.
This continued long after we passed the twentieth question. It was three in the morning when I finally asked if he was tired yet.
EMMETT: Kinda. Are you?
CLAY: Yeah. Can we talk tomorrow?
EMMETT: Sure.
CLAY: Goodnight, Em.
EMMETT: Goodnight, Clay.