Page 66 of A Little Bit Extra

“It’s late, no one is around. We don’t have to worry about going separately.” Emmett answers the question that I was going to ask.

“Oh, okay. Great,” I reply.

He helps me grab my bags from the car and we head to the elevator to go upstairs to his apartment. I’ve been in this elevator a lot over the past month. The beige carpet has slowly grown on me to the point that it’s calming. The elevator music plays just loud enough to get stuck in your head for the next five hours. Normally, I’m alone and I have to pinch myself to remind myself that this is real and not some long-standing dream.

This time, I’m with Emmett. I look over at him and find he’s already looking at me. I’m not surprised. He’s always looking at me when I glance his way.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask as we get out of the elevator. We walk to his apartment. He reaches into his back pocket for his keys, opens the door, and lets me in first, closing the door behind me.

“You,” he replies, taking my bag from me and setting it by the door.

We walk into the kitchen. I take a seat on a stool at the island. Emmett walks over to the cabinet and grabs two mugs, starting our nightly routine of drinking tea and talking about our day. At the studio, we don’t typically talk about things other than work because we’re always around others. Here, we use the first hour to chat about everything else. We talk a lot about our childhood and what it was like growing up, taking time to learn more about each other. It’s become my favorite part of the night, well, one of my favorites because what normally follows this is also great.

Tea and sex. Two things you normally wouldn’t put together, but it works for us.

Emmett leans onto the island. He is looking at me with a focused gaze, as if we’ve known each other for far more than just a month. I smile, the warmth of the tea in my hands comforting me as I take a sip.

“I have something I want to show you,” Emmett says, stepping away from the counter. He walks around to my side and holds out his hand. I grab it, then follow as he leads us down the hallway and into his office.

Taking a seat on the couch, a mix of excitement and curiosity bubbles inside me, and I wonder what he wants to share.

“You’re not going to tell me you’ve written a script about me, are you?” I tease.

Emmett looks at me from over his shoulder and chuckles. “No promises.” He winks, and I blush instantly. My body has a consistent response whenever Emmett persists with his winks.

He walks over to the bookcase and grabs a box from the top shelf. Holding it in his hands, he walks over to me and sits next to me on the couch.

I don’t know what’s inside the box. It’s a cube box, kind of the same size that fits in those IKEA cube shelves. I think it’s normally for random stuff, or maybe pictures, so I’m not sure what he’s keeping in here.

“I’ve kind of been busy when we aren’t together…” Emmett starts and stops, taking a deep sigh. I put a hand on his and give him a squeeze. “If you can’t tell, I’m nervous. Cassie, I thought I would be an actor for my entire life and always just wonder what my life would look like if I wasn’t. I’ve been writing. A lot. About anything that comes to my mind. I didn’t write for a long time because I had nothing to write about, but now I have you.”

“Are you saying I’m your muse, Hotshot?” I tease again, enjoying seeing the flush of red on his cheeks from my response.

“Maybe.” Emmett smirks at me and pulls off the lid. There are notebooks and folders inside. Few, but enough to fill the box over halfway.

The top notebook has a title printed across it, “One Last Time—Emmett Davis.” He takes it out and hands it to me, but he doesn’t let go right away.

I look up at him from the notebook to find him looking at me, like always.

“You have been busy.”

“Be nice, okay? I know you read my past work, but this is recent.” Emmett finally releases the notebook.

I open to the first page. It’s the synopsis of a film. I turn to the next page and find the opening lines of the script. I keep turning the pages to find they are all filled with scenes and lines. This whole notebook is full. There are no empty pages.

“Are these all scripts?” I ask. He nods but says nothing.

I hand back the notebook which Emmett files back in the box. He puts the lid back on and takes the box back to the top shelf where it was.

“I’ve wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember.” Emmett turns to me, walking back over to join me on the couch. “But my dad has always made it seem like I wouldn’t be good enough. You know? Like if I didn’t follow in his footsteps, then the Davis name would be worth nothing once he’s gone. It’s obvious he cares more about the family name in Hollywood than his actual son, but for some reason I feel like I can’t stop acting.”

“Even if it’s what you want?” I loop my fingers with his.

“I’m not sure anymore. Seeing you chase your dreams is helping me, Cassie. You have so much drive. Hell, you moved here because of your dream and you work your ass off to make it happen. I can’t even stand up to my dad, even though what I want is to be a writer.”

“I think you could do it, for what it’s worth. You’re stronger than you think.” I nudge his shoulder and give him a smile, which gets a laugh out of him.

“Thanks, Sass.” He leans over and presses a kiss on my forehead. “I just wanted to show you what I’ve been up to lately when you’re not around, and I guess thank you for showing me I can still achieve my dream.”

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