"You like her a lot, don't you?" I nearly fall out of my chair in surprise, turning to face Nonna in the seat beside me.
Embarrassed at being caught staring, I look away from Emma, dancing away with Peyton and Mia near the middle of the floor. I hope the blush on my cheeks isn't noticeable, but with Nonna, everything is; she doesn't miss a thing, even if she is well into her eighties.
"Don't lie to me Nathaniel, you never were good at it." Guiltily, I glance up at her, feeling like a little kid being scolded.
"I've al-always li-li-liked h-her. Sh-she me-means ev-every-everything t-to me."
She'll never like you back, not with your face; so brutal, so grotesque, disgusting, ugly, hideous, awful, repulsive, beastly-
I helplessly look to Nonna, hoping she'll start talking, give me something to think of other than how much better Emma could do than me.
"Have you told her that? Does she know?" She calls a waiter over as she talks, so he can refill her coffee mug, and then turns to me, gesturing to our seats.
"You two look as if you're together, why do you look so down?"
"Sh-she kn-kn-knows, m-mo-mostly. B-bu-but it's co-com-complicated." My hands fumble together in my lap, nearly shaking as I think of all the possible things she could have said at the church, in response to my confession.
What if I was ready though? Such a simple question, and yet so many possible answers, so many things she could have said, so many things we need to talk about. My knee starts bouncing in response to my nerves, nearly smacking the under side of the table, if I'm not careful.
"Bambino, why not uncomplicate it then?" I don't answer her, instead I try to avoid her concerned gaze, ashamed to be so nervous over something so many people go through everyday. Relationships.
"N-n-no-nonna, wh-what if sh-she do-doesn't f-f-feel th-the sa-same as m-me?"
There it is, my biggest fear, exposed out in the open, bare to judgement, to be either confirmed or denied, soothed or fed.
Why would she like you anyways? You've always been a freak of nature, an anomaly, such a disappointment. Can't even be attractive, look at his face, so repulsive, so monstrous. I bet she hates you.
Closing my eyes tight, I ignore the thoughts, trying to push them down, somewhere I won't hear them.
"Nathaniel?" I look up, thankful for the distraction, awaiting her reply. "What if she does feel the same?"
My mouth opens and closes several times, unable to form a logical reply, something to defend my fear. My insecurities.
"Hey, you," her hands on my shoulders are an instant comfort, like the calm after a storm, warm and soothing against the harshness of my own thoughts.
"Mind if I steal him for bit?" Smiling at Nonna, Emma reaches for my hands, already pulling me up from my chair.
"Not at all, bella, you two have fun."
"Thank you, Rosa." Waving as she turns, Emma guides me onto the dance floor, away from the safety of our table.
Content with our position in the middle of the dance floor, Emma drops one of my hands, already swaying her hips to the beat.
"Loosen up Nathan, it's just me." Her smile is soft, nurturing even, as she closes her eyes, already lost to the music, letting the lyrics wash over her, as if beckoning her further and further into the song.
I try to do the same; loosen up, close my eyes, try to forget about how many people could be watching me, how many people are judging, thinking how stupid I look next to a girl like Emma, a girl who is the pure epitome of beauty in the way she moves.
My eyes fly open at the feeling of her hands on mine, guiding them down to the fitted bodice of her dress, over her waist. If it isn't for her, I would be looking like an idiot attempting to dance to a song this fast. Emma manages to get me through it, keeping her eyes on mine, guiding me through a steady stream of steps as the song plays on, and giving me this huge grin that throws my heart racing as it ends.
"You did so good." Her hands are against my chest, no doubt feeling how fast my heart is beating. The same can be said for her; I can feel her pulse through my palms against her waist, as if it was in tune with my own.
Moving on their own accord, my hands trail up her shoulders, until I've cupped her face in my palms, my head angled down to match her own.
Not here. Not now, in front of everyone.
"We n-nee-need t-to-to ta-ta-talk."
. . . . .
I don't even know where I'm going; my feet are following an invisible path through the crowded dance floor, until we reach the front doors of the hall. We slip out easily, with everyone else too occupied with the midnight-buffet to notice. Squeezing Emma's hand tight, I pull her along behind me down an empty corridor on the left, narrowly avoiding a collision with a waiter on his way out of the kitchen.
The longer we walk, the more fiercely my nerves grow, constricting my chest until it feels like I can't breathe. The walls appear to close in on us, caging me in forever, it makes my heart race, pounding so fast that it's all I can hear, overpowering everything else, like a drum in my ear. Panicking, I dive for the first door I see, fumbling to push it open.
I gasp at the feeling of the cool air on my face, the burn of it in my lungs. Snowflakes pepper my skin, cooling down the flush of heat in my face, and bringing me back up out of my thoughts, dropping me face first into reality.
"Nathan? Are you okay, Nathan?" Her hands are on my face, cupping my cheeks, feeling my forehead, brushing my neck.
I didn't realize I'd collapsed on the ground, taking a seat on the cold, concrete steps leading into the building, didn't realize Emma is practically in my lap, her face flushed with concern, eyes bright and alert.
"Nathan?" Brushing the hair off my face, she holds my jaw steady, making my eyes meet hers. I try to communicate some type of thought to her, but words fail me; on the tip of my tongue and yet unwilling to come out, they stay lodged in my throat, making me look like an idiot.
Mimicking her actions, I bring my shaking hands up, allowing them to rest over her cheeks, flushed from the cold, yet warm to the touch, skin smooth as honey in my palms.
Everything seems to slow down and speed up all at once, until my body is acting of it's own accord, leading me through the actions I've envisioned my self doing over and over on replay, like a movie.
"I-I," Slowly, leaning forward, I press my lips against her forehead, encouraged to continue by the way her eyelashes flutter, to move them down to her left cheek, "w-wa-want" then the right, "th-this," down to her chin "us."
Hesitantly, my thumb brushes her bottom lip, silently asking for some type of confirmation; that this isn't just all me, that she wants this too, that she still feels the same, and if she doesn't, good-god, that would hurt.
Emma's nose brushes mine as she leans in, and it's all the invitation I need, nearly gasping at the miracle before me as her lips meet my own; she likes me. Emma Dawn, the very definition of kindness, beauty, perfection, likes me.
Wrapping her arms around my neck, fingers running through my hair, I pull her tight against my chest, until every soft, gentle curve of her body matches the hard, rough edges of mine, like puzzle pieces. Balanced on my lap, our staggering height difference is nearly nonexistent, just barely a few inches, and I love every second of it; having her so close, always in reach.
Letting her take the lead, I try to copy her movements, urged on by her response; fingers curled into the hair at the nape of my neck, murmured words I can't make out, pressing impossibly closer, until every breath is shared, until her nose bumps into mine whenever she moves. Her hair cages us in, blocking out the outside world until all I can hear and feel and see and smell and taste is her. And it's lovely that way, how she smells like flowers yet feels like sunshine- warm and bright. She tastes like the cannoli's we had for dessert, and the thought of her reaction to how good they were has me smiling, grinning like an idiot and interrupting the moment.
Always ruining things, so idiotic, ridiculous. I'm surprised Emma's even stayed with you this long, with you always messing up.
"What is it?" She smiles back, peppering my face with kisses as she waits for me to respond.
"Y-you t-ta-tase like ca-ca-ca-cannoli's." It's nearly impossible to get the last word out, especially with her lips mapping their way across my jaw.
She giggles at that, this adorable little child like laugh, accompanied with a shy smile as she blushes. It's too much for my heart; it feels like it's been stuffed with sunshine, ready to burst open at any moment.
"Sorry." Her apology is accompanied by another series of kisses, these ones trailing down to my neck.
Good God, kill me know, was she always this adorable?
"N-no it-it's ok-oka-okay, I li-liked i-it." You didn't just say that. Way to sound weird.
Her laughter breaks my mortified silence, easing away my worries as she smiles at me, squeezing my shoulder in reassurance.
"That's good to know then, for future reference." She winks as she leans into me, tucking her head under my chin, curling into my chest like a child.
"F-fu-future re-ref-ref-reference?" My heart leaps at the words more this? More us?
"Well, um, yeah, I mean, if you still want that." Gnawing on her bottom lip shyly, Emma looks up at me through her lashes, all previous playfulness and confidence gone.
It makes me laugh- I can't help it, here I was, dying of nerves all day trying to work up the guts to tell her this, and after all of this, she still isn't sure how I feel about it?
She takes my laugh the wrong way, starts pushing up out of my lap, blinking fast, trying to escape.
I grip her hands, pulling her back down, determined for her to hear me out.
"L-Lis-listen?" I wait for her to face me, eyes glistening so brightly it hurts.
"I-I l-la-laughed be-bec-because I've b-been st-stressing a-all day try-try-trying to t-te-tell y-you how I f-feel, a-and af-after all of th-this, y-you st-st-still do-don't kn-know."
Taking a deep breath, I look down at her hands, held tightly in mine, and try to form the words in my head before I speak them.
"I-I kn-know th-tha-that I'm dif-difficult. Th-that be-being w-with m-me, an-and un-under-understanding me is h-hard. I know th-tha-that it's wr-wr-wro-wrong o-of m-me t-t-to a-ask y-you t-to-to d-de-deal w-with th-that i-in a re-relationship-p, c-co-constantly, b-b-but I'm sel-sel-selfish, a-and I w-wo-won't l-let y-you g-go. S-so if y-you're w-wi-willing t-to ke-keep m-me around, if y-you h-have e-even th-the sm-sma-smallest d-desire to b-be w-with m-me, Buon Dio, I'll t-ta-tak-take it."