Emersyn
Another Saturday, another roommate dinner and game night. No matter what the guys have going on, they all make sure to make it back in time for this. And when one can't make it, like Marx the other weekend, they didn't hesitate to bring game night to him.
Cruz is manning the stove while Locke is at the counter, chopping veggies and bobbing his head to a beat only he can hear.
I tie my hair into a messy bun and roll up my sleeves. "Hey, guys! Need any help?"
"Ah, Em! Perfect timing. Wanna help me with the guacamole?" Locke grins, holding up a ripe avocado like it's a trophy.
"Sure thing." I take the avocado from him and grab a bowl from the cupboard. As I start scooping out the soft green flesh, I glance at Cruz. "So, how was the trip to the family farm? How's everyone?"
Cruz looks up from his chili and smiles. "It was good, really good. There's something grounding about being back there, you know?"
"Grounding, huh? 'Cause it's a farm?" Locke chimes in, snickering.
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Seriously though, tell me more."
Cruz stirs the pot a bit, looking almost wistful. "It's peaceful, tranquil even. It was nice seeing my mom and my younger siblings. Being there just gives me so much peace."
"I didn't know you had siblings."
Locke beats Cruz to the punch, "Yep, Cruz is the eldest of four. He's like the wise old tree in a forest of saplings."
"Locke, stop embarrassing me," Cruz rolls his eyes, but you can see he's amused. "But yeah, I've got two sisters and a brother. They're all a handful but I wouldn't trade them for anything."
"That sounds amazing. I only have my older brother, Thoreau, but we're pretty close," I say, feeling a sense of kinship with Cruz. I finish up with the avocado and turn my attention back to the task at hand. "This guacamole needs a little kick. You have any jalapeños?"
"Should be in the fridge, next to Marx's kombucha science experiment," Locke says.
I head to the fridge, dodging Fowler, who dashes into the kitchen, swiping a carrot stick and scampering out like he's just committed a heist.
After adding the diced jalapeño to the guacamole, I take a moment to appreciate the energy in the room. The atmosphere feels charged yet comfortable, like a well-worn book you never tire of reading.
With dinner ready, we gather around the coffee table. It looks like it's poker night. Cards are shuffled, chips are distributed, and the aroma of chili and freshly-made guacamole fills the air.
Fowler takes the seat beside me, shuffling the cards with practiced ease. "Alright, who's ready to lose their hard-earned chips?"
A few rounds in, Locke, ever the chatterbox, turns to me. "Hey Em, so how'd it go getting your stuff back from Lyle's place? Marx told us he was your bodyguard for the day."
I pause, feeling the weight of the question. I look at Marx; his eyes meet mine, subtly encouraging. "It went... smoother than expected. Mostly because Marx was there to keep the peace."
A silence lingers for a moment, filled with unasked questions. Finally, Fowler throws it out there. "Why'd you guys break up, anyway?"
I can't help but wonder if he's asking because they all want to know, or because of what happened between us last night. We haven't actually had time to talk about it.
I hesitate, my fingers fiddling with my cards. I glance at Marx and see his eyes darken, his jaw tightening. He clearly doesn't like the talk of Lyle. I don't blame him, not after the way Lyle treated me in front of him. I wonder if he actually did beat up Lyle, as Lyle claimed to my brother.
I take a deep breath. "I came home early from work. Well, actually, I had just gotten laid off. And, well, I caught him in bed with another woman. In our bed. They were literally in the middle of fucking."
The room goes quiet, the guys absorbing the gravity of the revelation.
"Jeez, Em. I'm sorry," Locke says, breaking the silence.
Cruz puts his cards down, his eyes full of sympathy. "That's rough, Em. You deserve way better than that."
Marx doesn't say anything; he doesn't need to. His eyes are dark, almost stormy, and I can tell he's restraining himself from saying what he really thinks about Lyle.
The topic changes, and our game night continues. I'm glad for the change of topic. I really don't want to talk about Lyle ever again.
"So, are we all good here? No hard feelings about my poker skills?" Locke jokes as he starts cleaning up the cards and chips.
"Speak for yourself, I'm plotting my comeback," Cruz laughs, helping him collect the dishes.
"Count me out for next week. I've lost enough for a lifetime," Fowler chimes in, stretching his arms.
Marx stands up, making his way toward his room. "Night, guys."
As the guys head to their respective rooms, Fowler lingers, looking like he wants to say something but hesitating. Finally, he speaks up. "Hey, Em, can we talk?"
"Sure. What's on your mind?" But I have a feeling I know exactly what's on his mind.
He looks into my eyes, and there's a kind of vulnerability there that I've not seen before. "I wanted to clear the air. Last night was... unexpected, and I didn't want to just leave it hanging between us."
"Yeah, it was unexpected," I agree. I don't know what he wants, and I don't know where this conversation is heading. I like Fowler, I like him a lot, but I also have a lot going on right now. I'm definitely not looking for a relationship or anything serious.
"I had a great time with you last night, and I don't regret it. But, I gotta be upfront. I'm not really the dating type. At least, not in the way most people think of dating," he says.
I raise an eyebrow. "Go on."
He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking for the right words. "I like to keep things open. See where they go, you know? But I also don't wanna do the whole exclusive thing."
A sense of relief washes over me, and I can't help but smile. "You have no idea how happy I am to hear that."
He grins, obviously relieved. "Really?"
"Yeah, I like you Fowler, but with everything going on in my life right now, the last thing I need is more complications."
"We're on the same page then," he says, a smile stretching across his face.
For a moment, we just stand there, basking in the relief that comes with mutual understanding. Finally, he breaks the silence.
"So, can I crash in your bed tonight?" He asks, his tone slightly teasing but also somewhat earnest.
I give him a knowing look. "You promise it's just for sleeping, right?"
Fowler raises his right hand, as if taking an oath. "I swear, just sleeping. And maybe some cuddling. Cuddling's good for the soul."
I chuckle and nod. "Alright, you're on. But you better not snore."
He laughs. "Deal."
**
I stand in front of my mirror, staring at my reflection as I zip up my floral sundress. A semi-high-end restaurant means I have to look the part, but honestly? I'm not excited about this lunch at all. Thoreau, my brother, has always been the voice of reason, the "responsible" sibling. As much as I love him, the last thing I need is another lecture. Mom's was more than enough.
I apply a touch of mascara, then pause. Do I really want to put on eyeliner? What's the point? To look put-together while being dissected over arugula and balsamic vinaigrette? I skip it. A little rebellion never hurt anyone.
I grab my purse and double-check for my essentials. Phone? Check. Wallet? Check. The will to listen to Thoreau talk about how I need to get my life together? Still searching for that one. I sigh.
I grab my keys from the bowl near the front door and give a quick wave to Fowler, who's sprawled on the couch scrolling through his phone. "Heading out. I'll see you later."
"Good luck," he says, and for a moment, I think I catch a glimmer of concern in his eyes. It's comforting, in a weird way. At least someone thinks I might need luck for this.
I head out and make my way to the restaurant, each step feeling heavier than the last. When I reach the place, I spot Thoreau already sitting at a table, his eyes scanning the menu with a focused look. Classic Thoreau, always early.
"Hey," I say, greeting him with a peck on the cheek as I slide into my seat.
"Em," he smiles, putting down the menu. "You look good."
"You too," I reply, even though he's in his usual button-up and slacks. He always looks good. Always put-together. The anti-me.
"So how've you been?" he asks, his eyes meeting mine.
Oh, the loaded question. How to answer? 'Well, I recently found out my ex was cheating on me, lost my job, and ended up moving in with four guys. How are you?'
"I've been okay," is what I actually say, because there's no universe where I unload all of that here and now.
He nods but doesn't push. That's coming later, I'm sure. For now, he orders a salad and sparkling water, and I go for a glass of white wine. Liquid courage or a crutch, I'm not sure, but I'll take it.
"So, Emersyn," he finally says, after the waiter leaves. "Mom told me you guys had a talk."
Ah, there it is. "She did, huh?"
"Yeah," he leans back, studying my face for signs of... what? Remorse? Acceptance? Rebellion? "She's worried about you."
"I figured as much," I say, taking a sip of my wine. "But I'm an adult, Thoreau. I can make my own choices, even if they're not ones you or Mom would make."
He sighs, a clear sign that he's gearing up for Big Brother Lecture Time. "It's not about being an adult, Em. It's about making good choices. Choices that'll serve you well in the long run."
I roll my eyes internally. Serve me well? Like sticking with a cheating boyfriend?
"I'm figuring it out, Thoreau," I say, my voice softer than I intended. "I've had a rough patch, but I'm not down for the count. I just need some time to... reassess."
"I talked to Lyle."
I already knew he had, but I was hoping he wouldn't bring it up.
"And?"
Thoreau's eyes narrow a bit. "He gave me his version of events. Said you left because you're confused and need space to 'find yourself' or some crap like that."
I can't help but snort. "Oh, is that what he's telling people now? Convenient."
"That, among other things. So, that's not the case?"
"No, Thoreau, that's not the case," I'm exasperated, but I keep my voice even. "I found him cheating on me, in our bed. There was nothing confusing about that."
His expression changes immediately, from skeptical to livid. "He did what?"
"He cheated on me. That's why I left."
A heavy pause hangs between us, and I can tell he's struggling with his emotions. Finally, he speaks. "Em, why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Because I knew you'd react like this, and honestly, I didn't need another person being angry for me. I had that covered."
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I get it, but you should've told me."
"Why? So you could go punch him? He's your friend, and I honestly wasn't sure whose side you'd pick."
A moment of silence, then: "Tempting, but no. So I could've been there for you, like family should. He was my friend until he cheated on my little sister."
The weight of his words hit me, and I'm grateful, even though part of me wishes I could've been strong enough to deal with it all on my own.
"Thank you," I say softly. "But you don't have to worry. I'm moving on. I have roommates who are supportive, and we're like a little dysfunctional family."
His eyes perk up, obviously intrigued. "Roommates? Plural?"
"Yeah, four guys. Don't worry, they're good people. One of them even went with me to get my stuff from Lyle's place."
His eyebrows shoot up. "A male roommate accompanied you to your cheating ex-boyfriend's place?"
"Yep, Marx is pretty cool that way."
"Marx, huh? As in Karl?" Of course, he would say that.
I chuckle. "No, not as in Karl. He's his own kind of Marx."
He smiles, but then becomes serious again. "You sure you're okay, Em?"
I nod. "Yeah, I'm getting there. Day by day."
Our food arrives, effectively putting a pause on the intense conversation. Thoreau digs into his salad, and I take a grateful sip of my wine.
After we're done eating, Thoreau looks at his watch. "I have to get running. I have a meeting soon. We should do this again."
"Yeah, we should," I agree, standing to hug my brother.
As he's leaving, he turns back and says, "Oh, before I forget. Who are you going to bring to the wedding? I'm assuming Lyle isn't coming with you."
The question catches me off guard. With the chaos of the last few weeks, the thought hadn't even crossed my mind.
"Honestly, I haven't given it much thought. I might just go alone."
His eyes search mine for a moment, but he doesn't press. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know."
I can't help but smile at that. "Will do. Love you, Thoreau."
"Love you too, Em."