August 12, 2010
Daily Aries Horoscope
You are considered the most giving sign in the
zodiac stars. It is no secret that that might help
your companion in an intimate manner. Lean into
your nature Aries. It come natural to you to give
and be honest... don't fight it.
The sermon that Sunday was lovely but Emma's mind was elsewhere all day. She'd worn her peach skirt, the long one that she'd worn to the lake that one weekend. The white button down she had on wasn't the same silk one she'd worn just yesterday afternoon when she stormed away from Trey's apartment. This one was cotton. She hated it because it hugged her back when she reached forward, too small but Emma didn't want to admit it. On her feet were brown gladiator sandals of some sort. Her hair was in its usual safety bun.
The sermon was nice. The pastor asked over and over again if the congregation was ready to take a stand for Jesus and defend him despite opposition. Emma's mind could not stick down to a single thought but she carried a notebook to church every Sunday. It was a small pad that fit in the same case as her Bible and she wrote down words and phrases that stuck with her throughout the sermon. She'd look over them later in the week maybe. To try and get her blessing.
She couldn't think about her actions yesterday without physically cringing. She'd been the very definition of a crazed female and Emma was having trouble sticking down to her own opinion of how she acted. On one hand, she felt as though she reacted perfectly for someone in her situation... someone with something to hide. This was just how she needed to carry herself if she hoped to maintain any sort of relationship with Trey. He needed to understand that they were strictly... whatever it was they were. Her over reactions were saving them a world of time trying to get to know one another and see where the relationship lead and building a future together. This was just her way of making sure they skipped a few unnecessary steps and fell right into bed and then back into their own lives... separately. She'd been rude and a little heartless but if he forgave her then there would be no lose ends. Emma wondered if that was a risk she should have been so readily willing to take.
But on the other hand, her overreaction had been... whatever. Emma never really had any sort of dealings with children aside from seeing them and their parents in public places like the grocery store. But when she saw them even then her aversion was not that strong. Not as strong as it seemed yesterday. The nerves, those were just because this particular kid had a special place in Trey's life and that scared Emma. Made her think about things and futures she couldn't hope for at that point in her life. Emma wasn't sure if she'd gone too far or not with Trey. She felt like she had sometimes. She wanted to call him and apologize for being rude. How was he to know she didn't like kids?
Did she really not like kids? Or did she not deal enough with children to know the wiser?
Mm..
It didn't matter, Emma thought in a deflated manner. She remember he look on Trey's face when she turned back to him after trying her best to set him down like a used doll. He'd been... hurt, mad, shocked, all that. And Emma had thought that maybe he expected her to do something like that but... she couldn't be sure.
She looked up and realized she was at home. It was blazing hot and Emma was sitting in her car in front of her house. How long had she been there? She was starting to get hot. Sweat. She didn't even remember leaving the church house.
Emma went inside and Gypsy was sitting on top of the refrigerator waiting for her. She smiled and reached up to touch him behind his ears. He purred his appreciation. "Hey love..."
He blinked his big green eyes at her. Sort of aqua green-blue actually. She washed her hands and put some Fusilli Spirale spaghetti noodles. The other day she'd made some chicken breasts, baked them sprinkled in Ms. Dash. She'd been cooking. The chicken breasts were buy one pack of boneless, skinless, chicken wings and get a pack of chicken wings half off. She'd even got some steaks that day. She put her previously cooked chicken in the oven to reheat.
Emma strolled up her stairs, unbuttoning her shirt as she went. She dropped it in the hamper along with her skirt. She had nothing special, fuchsia pink matching boy shorts and bra. Cotton. Clearly more for comfort than anything else.
She took that off too, preferring to be naked. She was leaving her room when she stopped in the mirror, her tattoo catching her eye. She lifted her arm. It was true, she had things to grow from. Some instances about her past she thought of literally every day.
But was she really trying to grow at all? Emam traced the black bird, completely healed now. Pretty.
Downstairs Emma melted butter in a saucepan. Once it was melted, she added a packet of cream cheese. It mixed well. She added a cup of half and half and seasoned it with garlic powder, parmesan cheese and a little salt. She'd gotten this recipe off the internet.
Emma took her reheated chicken out of the oven and cute two breasts into cubes. She took her noodles off the boil and strained them. She put some in a bowl. Then she dropped chicken cubes on top, licking her thumb to free it of seasoning. Emma grabbed the saucepan and spread the sauce over the meat and noodles. She sat down to eat alone, looking at her overgrown yard in disdain.
She'd been so comfortable with Trey. She loved hanging out with him. She loved watching football. She loved not being able to get up in the morning because Trey wanted to sleep in.
That had all been great. And she'd thrown it away to protect a past that she hated. Emma suddenly wondered how long she would be protecting this same past. Would she ever be able to move on or would it always hold her back?
There was no one for her to call about her delicious meal. She wasn't feeling very proud as she had been cooking a lot more lately. With all her couponing and saving, she couldn't just buy hundreds of bowls of instant macaroni and cheese. The worst meal she'd created, the one that turned out bad, was some stuffed Italian shells. She'd burned them in the oven... overreaching. Baby steps, Emma, baby steps.
She sat down to get some work done at her Mac. Then she downloaded some new music from iTunes. About sixty dollars in she realized that there was no reason for her to spend so much money on fucking online albums. And she still had no answers to her questions. She dusted atop the armoire to keep her kitty comfy. The she went on a sort of dusting spree that turned into her cleaning her entire upstairs including vacuuming the rugs in the spare rooms. She stripped the beds and changed the linen.
At six o'clock she was back in her bedroom, still naked, and still with too much on her mind to sit still. The sun wasn't due to go down for another two hours and she wasn't tired at all. She didn't want to be in her house anymore.
She lay across her bed and called the only person that was almost always down to drink with her.
"Hello?"
"Farrah, let's get dressed up and get drunk."
Farrah paused, then there was some commotion. "Get up, I said get up. Help me find my other shoe. Emma? I'll call you when I get home. Get in the shower."
Emma smiled. She loved that Farrah was ready to uproot whatever she was doing for her. It made Emma feel cared for. She told her she would and hung up. Emma didn't want to sit around and think about how she'd fucked up. She just wanted to forget it. And what better way to do that than to get wasted?
Good Lord she sounded like she was in college. She knew it wasn't the answer...
She also didn't care.
She showered as she was told. When she got out she had a glass of milk and text Farrah to ask for a lift.
'u so damn needy girl!' Farrah wrote back almost instantly.
Emma agreed to meet her somewhere. O'Thirsty's was her usual spot to just sit around and get drunk without being forced to dance with some snot nosed college kid with something to prove to his frat friends. She wanted to drink, that was it.
She dressed in a pair of dark washed skinny jeans. They were tight. Emma wore cotton boy shorts underwear to protect against the yeast infection pants. She laughed to herself at her own joke... yeast infection pants. Her top was pastel turquoise greenish color. It was from urban outfitters in Lenox mall so the design was very odd. The fabric draped under her armpits, as she'd purchased it because it did just that thing, and down her back. It exposed her spine and ribs easily but the tank top straps and scoop neck t-shirt designed front made it look very modest from the front. Emma turned to the side and lifted her arm. You could see her tattoo. That's really why she bought it. No bra... it would have hidden her phoenix.
She did her hair in a safety bun... which she was growing more and more tired of by the day. One day she was going to vow to never wear the stupid style again. She put on pretty casual jewelry, lots of beaded bracelets and long beaded necklaces. On her feet she wore beige wedge sandals that strapped around her ankle. They had about five inches under the heel of the foot with an extra inch under the toes, completely platform, t-bar, cuteness. The six inches of corkscrew material only confirmed Emma's desire to get drunk.
She wore makeup, as expected.
Emma grabbed a very tall glass for a little milk before she left the house. She fed Gypsy and gave him milk instead of water. Then she left.
She stopped at the ATM for cash.
Farrah was already there when Emma showed up. She was sitting at the bar, playing in her cell phone. The place had a few people sprinkled about, mostly men. The music was casual and low. Emma sat beside her with a plop. "Thanks for coming."
Farrah glanced over then smiled in good nature and put her phone in her bag. "Don't mention it. I wasn't doing nothing."
Emma made a face and motioned for the bartender. "Sure didn't sound like it," she said, regarding Farrah mischievously and then turning to the man in front of her. "What's your name?"
"Chuck," he said, smiling at her brazen attitude. Chuck wasn't particularly cute to her but to a white girl, this white guy would be attractive. He had one of those noses with no ridge at the forehead and that spiked, gel hair. He was thin and wore a five o'clock shadow with glasses. He had on a button down plaid shirt and jeans.
"Hi Chuck. I'm interested in opening a tab-."
"Damn," she heard Farrah say.
"We'll start with two screwdrivers."
Chuck smiled. "Sure."
She smiled back at him and turned back to Farrah. Her friend was looking at her like questions were coming so she beat Farrah to the punch. "Who did you have to get off of you to come and see me?"
Farrah's face changed to a grin and she tried to contain her smile but it was leaking. Farrah, ever the nonchalant kid, turned her face away. "No one special. Just a guy I met."
Emma grinned. "What's his name?"
"You don't know him," Farrah offered quickly.
Emma's eyebrows shot up. She knew that there were thousands of people of Atlanta of course she didn't know him. But the way Farrah acted about it, like Emma probably did know him, only peaked her interest. Their drinks came and Farrah dived in.
She was persistent. Someone else's business would get her mind off her own. "Go on tell me."
Farrah sipped her drink until an inch was missing. Then she sighed. "His name is Matthew."
Emma had been drinking but at the name she stopped. "The real-estate guy?"
"Don't tell my aunt because then she'll be like," Farrah put a hand to her and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, her voice becoming squeaky. "'Oh I knew you two were just perfect for one another!'"
Emma laughed at her impersonation. "Well are you?"
"No, but he gives good head."
Emma laughed.
They chatted it up over the drinks, talking about anything that mattered to them at the moment. The music wasn't very loud but every once in a while they would play something Emma liked and she would look around like she wanted to dance. She wasn't drunk though and she didn't really dance sober. When the screwdrivers were gone Emma ordered two ice bombs to keep the vodka theme going.
And when those were gone they were on to something called a Godiva Chocolate Martini, which Emma liked so she had two but Farrah didn't really care much for it so she had one and then she was onto a fruit tingle.
Farrah went to the bathroom. Then Emma went to the bathroom. Then they ordered another drink a piece.
"That's it," Farrah said, putting her empty cocktail glass on the bar. Her words slurred a bit. "I ain't drinkin' shit else until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you."
Emma put on her best surprised face. In her drunk mind it came out pretty good but to Farrah and the rest of the world it look over dramatic and comical. "Wrong with me? Nothing hiccup nothing is wrong with me."
Farrah's phone had been sitting on the bar. She picked it up and put it inside her bag. "I'm going home."
Emma pouted. "Farrah," she whined. "Don't leave."
"Why not?" Farrah was so feisty and straightforward, her next words, drunken as they were, kinda sliced through Emma. "You not finna just sit in my face and lie to me. T-that shit is rude!"
Emma put a hand to her head. Was everybody going forever be able to tell when she was lying? And why was she hearing the word again for the second time that weekend from two different people? She was actually growing quite tired of it.
She took her hand from her head which was sort of swimming with the drink. "Me don' eben fuckin' rememba Farrah shit."
"What?"
"Nothing," she sighed tiredly. She couldn't remember if she'd ever gotten drunk enough with Farrah to spill her accent... maybe years ago but this year she didn't recall it happening. "I'm sorry I called you with this shit. It's getting kinda late. You should head home."
Farrah looked at her profile. "You want me to drop you off at your place?"
Emma smiled at her lazily, her elbow falling off the bar. She laughed. "Girl, I taught you to drunk drive. Now you finna try to take me home."
Farrah laughed because Emma had a point. They were both drunk. Either way someone drunk would be driving. And Emma had always been a very decent drunk driver. She had taught Farrah before either of them were even old enough to drink. Farrah was only worried because the more drinks she had, the sadder Emma seemed to get. "Just be careful." She touched Emma's shoulder. "Emma," she said. "Whatever it is... it'll be ok."
Emma nodded. "Chuck," she called. "One more and the bill please."
While she sipped her last drink, Emma thought about finding a joe and getting the hell out of there for the night. Nothing cheered her up more than sex that was for sure. But she didn't even have to look around to know that she didn't want to have sex with anyone in the fucking building. The bartender had even started to look nice after a while. But even as she glanced down the way at him Emma knew she didn't want him. She didn't want any of these people.
She was mad instantly. He'd ruined her for everybody else. Emma had no problem being attracted to a man before he met Trey. Hell she didn't have a problem even when she wasn't very attracted to the man. But look at her now. At the bar not even giving the guys a chance. She was not the person she used to be. Damn him.
The bill was seventy dollars, which was less than Emma thought to pay but Farrah had tapped out on her. People were starting to flood the place as it was only eleven o'clock. The music, which had been real casual soft rock and sometimes a few pop songs, was starting to pick up in tempo and girls that were drinking for fun, unlike her, were starting to hit the dance floor. The booths were starting to fill up and hungry eyes started looking her way. She should have counted her blessing because she had been very under the radar all evening it was only natural that someone notice the drunk girl sitting at the bar, now alone.
"Thanks Chuck," she said, offering him a tip for his troubles. Chuck took it with a smile. It was a good tip.
"Anytime doll," he said, winking and going to take drink orders up the bar. Emma grinned and gathered her belongings.
Her mind was still on him, she discovered. Men were all around the bar and they all had on some sort of cologne or another but none of them smelled like Trey. He always smelled delicious. And he always looked downright impeccable. Why had she lied to him? Wait had she lied? She couldn't remember at the present moment. Her head was still doing its favorite Olympic dives and swimming to the ladder. She suddenly wished she wasn't drunk so she could try and remember what she'd done to piss Trey off. Then Emma concluded that that was the purpose of being drunk, forgetting what had happened. But it backfired, now all she remembered was that Trey was upset with her. She'd just forgotten why.
Great, Emma, she chastised as she walked out the door. You're a fucking idiot girl.
It wasn't cold out. That didn't stop her nipples from rubbing the fabric of her shirt. They would have done it anyway with the bars and all. The air was dry, no humidity present at all. And the parking lot was a lot more crowded with cars than she remembered when she pulled up. Emma put her hand on her head and looked around. Now she wished she had one of those new cars that had the 'beep beep' thing on her key ring.
"Beep, beep," she said, giggling to herself as she walked by cars to the back of the parking lot. "Beep, beep." She jokingly pointed her car key at the pack of a Nissan, then a Lexus, then a big Ford truck.
She found her baby and hopped inside.
Since she was drunk she avoided the highway and stuck mostly to back roads. She didn't want to get pulled over but on a back road the chances of an accident were slimmer. She also didn't have to worry about causing a car pileup. Emma would kill herself if she hurt other people drinking and driving.
About ten minutes before she was due to pull into her own driveway, she found herself stopping her car on a busy street and whipping around in an attempt to parallel park. Emma opened her door and flung her head out to see if she was close enough to the curb. An onlooker, a very young boy with a fitted cap on saw her. "Damn yo, I thought shorty was finna fall out the car!"
Emma grabbed her purse out of the seat and got out. "I'm a grown woman, I don't fall."
He cheesed. "I'm a grown man. We should chill shorty."
Emma didn't even look at him. Her hand was on her head and she was trying to calm her swimming brain cells. What was she doing here? This was not home. She needed to get in her car and go the fuck home like she had planned.
"Please leave me alone."
"Aight shorty aight."
He was shorter than her, Emma thought irritably watching him saunter again with his pants under his ass. Why the fuck did he call her shorty? He was the fucking shorty, shorty! That's what she should have said. Emma grimaced and pulled at the rubber band holding her safety bun in check. Her hair fell in black and auburn tresses down her back onto one shoulder. She leaned against her car and stretched the band, then relaxed it. Stretch and relax. What would she say even if she did go in?
She scratched her scalp, her thick hair feeling good pressed against the webs between her fingers, and she still had no idea what she was doing there.
Still she went in.
Shirley wasn't Emma's favorite receptionists for Trey's building but she was nice. Plump chick with black hair and a sweet disposition. Emma didn't remember why she wasn't her favorite. She pushed that out of her mind and willing herself to make it to the big desk without stumbling. She made it about halfway so she was proud.
"Evening, Miss Emma right?"
Emma smiled, touched that the girl had remembered her name. "Right. How a-hiccup-are you?"
Shirley smiled. "I'm fine, Miss Emma how are you?"
Emma put a hand in the air and waved it side to side like a plane trying to find an equilibrium. "So, so. Is Trey in?"
"Yes, he is. Is he expecting you?"
Emma tilted her head to the side. "Nope," she said. "Not at all. Can you c-call him for me?"
"Yes ma'am."
There were some couches. Very modern looking and stylish, but Emma turned and hopped on the desk. Shirley giggled a little behind her. "Mr. Nelson, Miss Emma is here to see you..."
Emma suddenly wondered why she herself didn't call. She nodded, remembering she'd dropped her phone between her seat and her armrest as soon as she'd left eh bar and she hadn't been able to reach it while she drove.
"Yes, sir. Goodbye."
Shirley hung up the phone and told him he was on his way down. Emma bit her lip. She wished the damn girl would just be still so she could look at her. Then she remembered that she was drunk and nothing would stop floating around until she wasn't drunk anymore. "Did he sound mad?"
"Mad?" Shirley repeated. "I don't know Miss Emma."
She sucked her teeth. "Damnit." Emma immediately put a hand over her mouth. "Sorry."
Shirley giggled. "It's ok Miss."
"I curse a lot."
Shirley giggled again. "Is that right?"
"Yep," Emma swung her legs. Why was she sitting up here? Why was she talking to this girl like they knew one another? "I watch football and curse and d-drink beer."
Shirley laughed for real that time and Emma joined in.
The elevator dinged and Trey stepped out. He wore black t shirt with an eagle on it. GA was written in the center. He had on white basketball shorts with the little Jordan symbol playing about the bottom. He looked at him in confusion.
"Trey," she sang as a greeting when he approached her.
He looked her over casually. "Emma what are you doing here?" He was to the point, she'd give him that. Trey wasn't beating around anyone's bush. His eyebrows were furrowed a little and Emma couldn't tell if that was confusion or anger. They were the same height when she sat on the large bar that was Shirley's desk. He looked so good.
She smiled as best she could through her drink and nerves. "I came to see you if were still mad at me."
"You been drinking?"
She looked at Shirley. "He's mad at me Shirley."
Trey flicked his eyes to the receptionists and then back at Emma. "I'm not mad at you," he said stiffly. "How did you get here?"
"Vroom, vroom," she said, holding at imaginary steering wheel. She giggled and dropped her hands. "He sure looks mad hunh Shirley?"
"Emma," he shook his head a little and sighed at her. Emma felt like a wayward child again. Her legs stopped swinging and she wondered what the fuck she was doing there. She hadn't been invited, they had to work tomorrow, and they'd parted on bad terms. She felt small and stupid. Trey made her stupid though. She couldn't think straight for the life of her when it concerned him. That was her problem with Trey. She was never able to think logically where he was concerned."Come on let's go up to my place."
She shook her head and took her wrist from his grip. "Me don' vant ta go if you gon go an be m'ad at me." She swallowed, closed her eyes and shook her head to rid herself of the accent.
Trey sighed like he didn't want to have this conversation in front of an audience. He grabbed Emma by the waist and lifted her from the desk to the ground. She was almost his height in the wedges she wore. Still she put the hand that wasn't holding her purse on the bar to steady herself. "If you want me to leave," she checked the words in her mind to make sure she sounded American. "I can leave."
Trey just stood looking at her for a minute. He looked over her drape shirt, her skinny jeans, and her wedge shoes, then back at her face. His eyebrows weren't as furrowed and he suddenly looked tired, or frustrated. Emma couldn't tell. He did that thing where he titled his head back to look at her. His Adam's apple jumped when he swallowed once, a dimple forming and disappearing quickly. He was so cute. "I don't want you to leave. I'm not mad."
"Prove it," she challenged with a smirk. Then she smiled. "Gimme kiss."
There was no one else in the lobby but the two of them. Emma hadn't spared Shirley more than one glance since Trey got out of the elevator. The AC unit filled the loud silence and Trey huffed once, glanced at Shirley, and kissed Emma on the lips. His lips were cool like he'd been drinking from a cold can or something. But they were incredibly soft and she blushed.
"Come on," he commanded again, grabbing her purse from her and then her other hand, leading her to the elevator.
Inside she grabbed his shoulder while she reached down to take off her shoes. "Do you have on a bra?" he asked.
Emma shook her head and handed him one of her wedges. "It hide me ink." She stood straight up and lifted her arms. "See?"
Trey didn't' say anything and she leaned back down to finish taking off her other shoes. She finally got the other off and sighed in content, leaning against the wall and wiggling her red toes. "Ahh!"
"I ever tell you I hate it when you drive drunk?"
She looked at him. "Nope." Her head was heavy so she closed her eyes and let it fall back, shaking her head against the elevator wall. The light from the ceiling made the inside of her eyelids pink and she counted her floating eye dots while the machine dinged past floors. Then she said, "Is that why you want me to stay, cause you don' vant me drivin'?"
The accent was really floating in and out on her and even though she'd had her last drink fifteen minutes ago, Angie had always warned her that vodka had a tendency to sneak up on a person. Gin just made her angry. Brandy made her talkative. Rum made her horny.
She opened one eye and looked from Trey's shoulder to his face as he was way taller than her again. He shook his head. "No, it's not."
She wanted to believe him she just didn't know why she didn't. Was she skeptical when she was drunk? Maybe just cynical? What did it matter whether not he was mad and only inviting her in his place because she was drunk? She was here. This was all she'd thought about in the past twenty-four hours, being back in his presence and she got it. Emma thought about it a moment longer then she shrugged as the door opened. "Cela m'est égal." She waved the hand Trey wasn't holding dismissively.
Trey stopped in the doorway and turned to her. Emma thought he looked confused again. "What?" he said.
"I said I don't mind."
"No you said-."
The doors prepared to close on them and Trey pushed very lightly against the door. He looked at Emma again peculiarly. Then he shook his head. "I'm trippin'," he mumbled pulled her to his door.
Inside he had the fireplace going and it was nice and toasty. The light in the living room was off but the ones in the kitchen and his bedroom were on. Emma rubbed her arms and watched Trey put her purse and shoes by the door. He slid off his slides and pushed them by the door as well. "D-hiccup-do you have any liquor?"
Trey eyed her dubiously. "You don't need any more alcohol. You need to lay down. Come on let's get you something to sleep in."
"Trey," she purred. Emma invaded his personal space and grinned like a Cheshire up at him. "Me don' feel much like sleepin'."
Trey sighed. "You will when you lay down."
"No," she said, covering her mouth with her hand to burp. She'd been waiting for the air to come from her stomach forever as she assumed it would make her feel better and she couldn't burn on purpose but it didn't. She actually felt a little worse. She shook her head and took a step backwards, away from him. "I-I'm not sleepy, Trey. I don't want to sleep."
She blinked, her mouth watery.
"Emma just come to the room..."
She put the back of her hand to her mouth and blinked. She lurched once and then pushed past Trey down the hall towards the office. He had a guest bedroom behind the kitchen and the laundry room with a small bathroom across the hall. Emma ran in and closed the door. She threw up. Her last drink had Hennessey in it. And a cardinal rule had warned her against mixing dark and white liquor together. Emma barely had time to grab her hair before it was all said and done and she was kneeling there on the ground spilling guts feeling like a drunkard or something.
When it was finished and she couldn't heave anymore, Emma used tissue to wipe her mouth. She'd taken off her pretty beaded necklaces and tossed them on the floor beside the bathtub. She touched her hair and searched for chunks of chicken or white shit. She glanced around the toilet for a mess, checked her clothes. Nothing. She sat back against the sink at the end closest to the toilet and lifted her knees to sit her arms on them and then rested her head on the bridge she'd made. Her lips were dry and her teeth tasted acidy.
She wanted to go home.
"Emma, you good?"
Emma grimaced, more than anything she didn't want Trey to see her looking like an idiot. She tried to lift her head to the door in an effort to tell him to go away and failed miserably. "Partir," she croaked.
"What?"
"Go away," she muttered again.
She heard the door open and she closed her eyes tight. How stupid she must look. Drunk on his guest bathroom floor. "Me don' vant you in 'ere."
"Too bad," he said briefly. Emma lifted her head, so heavy it was, and winced against the light bulbs above the sink to look at him. Trey glanced at her and turned on the water. She rested her head against the cabinet door behind her.
"I'm drunk, Trey."
"I see."
"Don' laugh ok?"
"Ok."
The water turned off and Trey knelt down beside her. "Here," he said. "Be still."
The hot wet towel on her face would have felt good if it were cold. The alcohol and all the work she'd done heaving made Emma hot. She winced against the soft fabric. Trey rubbed over her whole face, underneath her eyes and around her mouth. "Hot," she murmured.
"I know," he said gently.
"When me used to ge' drunk in schoo' me roommate used to nurse me to healf." She smiled at the memory. She wasn't talking about Angie, Angie had been useless after the drinks were gone and nine times out of ten Emma had been the one to make sure the drunk princess was ok. Anika though, Anika was Emma's biggest fan and she always took care of her.
"Oh yeah?"
"She hate fa' me to be drunk." Trey turned and sat down next to her. He leaned against the sink too and looked at the door.
Then he sighed that placating sigh and asked Emma why that was like he didn't really care.
"Cause she didn't like to have sex when I was drunk."
Trey looked at her profile. Emma, head still rested against the cabinet with her eyes still closed, didn't see his head turn or notice his interest peak. "She used to call me sloppy when we fucked and I was drunk. Her name was Anika."
"... Anika."
"She was so pretty, Trey. She had dark chocolate skin and big, sweet lips." Emma grinned and opened her eyes to the light. "Anika."
"But Angie," she continued. She glanced at Trey, not really seeing him. "She used to lub when we got'a pissy drunk. We go dancin' and lookin' fa cocky." Ema laughed, deep in her head and her drink.
"Cocky?"
"Ye-yeah cause me feed the nympho in me heart when me vas in schoo'. Me ha'b sex err'day. But if Emma got a bo'i an Angie, she ho'v bad luck, we go's home d'ot night wit' da same John. Angie neber like to share but me," she pointed to herself. "Me 'ad to share evera'ting wit' 'er."
"When you were in school?"
"Ouȋ."
"Ouȋ?"
"Yes what?" Emma turned her head to Trey again and saw his confused look. She huffed and turned to face him. Then she lay back on the bathroom floor. She was much more comfortable like this. Laying down.
She pitied him. He looked confused again. "You don' kno 'bout dem cause I neber wanted ya t-to kno me see'crets."
"Why not?"
"Cause me ain't vant you hay'tin me."
"... Come on," he said, standing. "Get up. Let's go to bed."
Trey helped Emma stand up. She swayed on her feet, "Oh," she moaned when her head started to swim. She approached Trey in a slur of motions and put her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. "I'ma sleep here."
"Na, come on." He wrapped an arm around her waist and her feet left the ground. Emma wrapped her arms around her shoulders and her legs around his waist. Trey turned off the bathroom light with his free hand and put it on her butt to hold her up. Her head didn't leave his shoulder.
"Trey," she said as he walked. Her eyes were closed.
"Yeah?"
"I hate skinny jeans."
He chuckled just a little. "Why you got 'em on then?" They stopped momentarily and one of her his hands left her. Her pink eyelids became black. He had turned off a light.
"Cause dey make me ass look round."
Trey chuckled again. Emma smiled. She knew they were in his bedroom because when they passed the aquarium her eyelids turned blue and then black again. A click let her know the light was turned on. She opened her eyes and everything was stil swimming slightly to the left and down. There was a dull hum in her ears. They were in the bathroom.
"Sit here," he instructed putting her on the sink next to the bowl he usually used to brush his teeth. Emma did as he bid and sat up as best she could without his assistance while Trey grabbed a pink Colgate toothbrush from the holder and spread green paste on it. It was her toothbrush. She smiled as he brought it back to her. "Here."
Emma put her arm over the bowl and then rested her head on it, bent over brushing her teeth placidly. Her eyes were barely open and she could only make out the suds because they were a different color than the bowl. She spit. Trey turned on the water and she rinsed twice. He had a towel for her face when she sat up. She'd used so much momentum she nearly fell off the sink but Trey caught her. She grinned at him. "Merci."
Trey grinned and an eyebrow lifted. "Arms up."
Trey took off her shirt and shorts and left her in her little white cotton undies. He pulled his shirt over his head and pushed her arm through it. Emma looked down at her eagle. "I just put it on. I was finna go to bed."
"Let's go to bed then."
Trey smirked and tossed her pants on the sink with her shirt. She hopped down, swayed to her right a little, then hugged his waist. Trey walked her backwards into his room. She sniffed his lovely scent off his body, her drink making the skin of his chest feel wonderful against her lips. She rubbed her morsels across the hard surface. "Hiccup, Trey je te dėsire..."
He grabbed her chin in his fingers and made her look at him. "What other languages do you speak, Emma?"
She shook her head. "None. Come on let's do it."
"Do what?"
She stood on her tip toes and kissed his chin and then his neck. "You know what."
"Je te dėsire?"
Emma laughed a throaty laugh and pushed her abdomen against his crotch. "Oh yeah, how bad you want me?"
The backs of her knees hit the bed and she plopped down. She'd missed that bed. Even if it'd only been gone from her for a day. Emma lay back and wiggled on the silk. "Mmm."
"Me wanna 'ere da crickets."
"Crickets?"
"Ya." Emma was squirming on the bed now, rubbing over her nipples and down her stomach through the shirt. She was hot and bothered and she wanted to fool around.
"What crickets?"
"Da crickets," she opened her eyes and grinned at him. She was so glad he wasn't mad at her anymore. He wouldn't have taken care of her if he was mad at her. Emma was sure of it. She beckoned him with her finger. Trey obeyed and spread out atop her. He wasn't really touching her, just hovering and Emma didn't like that. But she touched his face with her hands and smile at his pretty brown eyes. "I hear crickets when I'm finna nut. Oh my gosh they get s-hiccup-so loud when I'm with you." She laughed at herself, her weakness. "They used to bother me all the time..." She made a face of displeasure. "But then I started fuckin' you and now I only hear 'em when I'm cuming."
"The crickets?"
"Ouȋ"
"Ouȋ?"
"Yes what?"
He sighed and the air hit her face in a rush that she loved just because it was air that he had breathed. Any air that he had breathed was good air, sweet air. "Nothing, Emma. Let's go to bed."
He wrapped an arm around her back and lifted her to the head of the bed. Emma slid under the covers and turned to him. Her eyelids turned black and Trey stilled next to her. "Trey?"
"Mmm?"
"Gimme kiss."
There was some rustling and then his soft lips pressed against her. It was a soothing feeling. She smiled when he pulled away. "You're still mad."
"Oh yeah how you figure."
"Cause," she said, stopping to yawn. Emma pulled the covers to her shoulder, glad to back there. "Cause you ain't kissing me like you love me..."