Page 47 of A Little Bit Extra

Lucy lets me know she’ll meet me by the car. She’s going to call her parents or something. I walk over to the front door and slip on my shoes. When I turn around to grab my bag off the hook by the door, I find Emmett. He’s holding my bag and jacket for me. I take the jacket first, slipping it on, and grab my bag from him.

“I’ll walk you out,” Emmett tells me like it’s a done deal.

I turn my head to look into the living room and kitchen, at everyone still in his apartment. “You don’t need to.”

“I want to.” He walks a few steps forward, closing the distance between us. With his left hand, he reaches for the door handle, twists it, and starts opening the door. I sidestep once to the left to get out of the way so the door can open all the way. “Plus, they’ll be fine.” His head tilts to the right to gesture to his friends occupying his space.

“Okay.”

I wave and say goodbye to everyone, letting them know I’ll see them at the studio on Monday. Marcy doesn’t seem elated that I’m walking out with Emmett, but I can’t let that cloud my thoughts for the evening.

We walk in silence down the hallway, Emmett on my left, slowly making our way to the elevator doors. He leans across my body to press the down arrow button, meeting my gaze for a moment before returning to a standing position.

When we get in the elevator, he reaches for my hand. I let him intertwine our fingers together. With a quick, anxious movement, I bite my lip and purposely avoid meeting his gaze. I don’t want to see how he’s feeling.

I will not kiss Emmett. I will not kiss Emmett. I will not kiss Emmett.

The entire elevator ride is silent, my heartbeat echoing off the walls. It’s loud, and beats a million times a minute. Instead of having a cheeky conversation with Emmett, I’m stuck with thinking of him. Thinking about how his hand feels in mine. It’s electric. I notice every time his finger moves against my hand, every intake of breath, and every time Emmett shifts his weight. His gaze never wavers from me, as if he’s trying to decipher my feelings and responses to our hand-holding.

After our hallway conversation, I’m so confused. This whole time I’ve been in Los Angeles and I’ve never felt like this with anyone else.

I've never longed to be pressed against the elevator wall. To have the elevator break and be stuck in here for hours with no escape. I want an excuse to be trapped with Emmett.

Unfortunately, the elevator dings to let us know we’ve made it to the garage level, which dispels my fantasy.

I look to see our hands still together and look to my left to meet Emmett’s eyes. A small smile first appears. His bottom lip disappears under his teeth and I’m back to wanting to slam him against the elevator wall.

Emmett sighs and shakes his head in a way that conveys he’s thinking very similar, frustrating thoughts. He gives my hand one squeeze and then lets go. He reaches out with the same hand to hold open the elevator doors to let me out.

“Text me?” he asks.

“Obviously.” I tease, dipping my head, batting my eyelashes, and shaking my head a few times.

He chuckles.

“Goodnight, Cassie.” Emmett gets the last words in as the elevator door closes between us and climbs back up to his floor.

It feels like the walk of shame as I strut to Lucy’s car. Despite the early hour of 7:30 at night, there is a noticeable absence of people coming and going from the garage. It’s a small space, so that makes sense. Most people that live here likely have drivers and leave out the front door.

Lucy doesn’t even see me walking toward the car. She’s looking at her phone and appears busy with furrowed brows. I can only assume it has something to do with her upcoming art show. There’s always something that she’s grumbling about. I can’t keep it straight. Too many paintings, not enough paintings, maybe a different color scheme, tickets sold, tickets not sold, and 100 other various topics.

“Everything okay?” I ask as I buckle in, setting my bag by my feet. I adjust the air to blow more directly at me, turning the temperature in the car from a warm 71 to a cool 68. My body still feels like it’s on fire after the elevator ride.

“Hm?” Lucy asks, turning her head to face me. “Oh, yeah, everything is just fine. Same shit, different day.” She flips the music to play an alternative playlist and sets the phone in her lap before driving us out of the garage.

“How was the walk with Emmett? Talk about anything interesting?” Lucy glances at me.

I shake my head. “Please don’t start. We are friends. Nothing happened. Nothing can happen.”

Lucy just nods in response.

With everything in close proximity, we're already pulling into the diner parking lot a few minutes later, so we have little time to chat.

“Shit,” Lucy mutters.

I look up from my phone to see the parking lot of Dave’s Diner packed. Every spot is full. I groan. Tonight was supposed to be slow. I was hoping it would be slow. Slow means I can go home early and go to bed, which I desperately want to do. I didn’t realize how exhausting these past few weeks would be trying to balance it all.

With the addition of last night and tonight, I’m drained and not sure I have the right mindset to wait on people.

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