Page 94 of Felix

Emil fidgets with his collar, straightening the already straight material.

“Nervous?” I ask him.

He glances at me in the mirror over his desk. “A little. I haven’t talked to my parents since I yelled.”

I hum. “Do you think they’ll be upset?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I think they were surprised more than anything. Henry said they’ve been more…attentive, though. He said it’s horrible, even though he sounded happy about it. So I’m glad they listened. That they seem to be making an effort with him.”

But not with you?

I don’t voice the question aloud, but it surprises me that his parents haven’t mentioned Emil’s uncharacteristic outburst to him. If he ever yelled in front of me or, Christ, at me, I’d be worried. I’d know something was wrong.

I’m trying to keep an open mind, but what I’ve learned about Emil’s parents so far hasn’t endeared them to me. Same with his older siblings, who seem just as aloof when it comes to their middle brother. The only one I’m excited to meet is Rebecca. Emil talks about her with warmth, same as Henry.

Pushing off the bed, I walk over to Emil and wrap my arms around his middle. He sighs as I settle my chin on his shoulder.

“You’re tall in those heels,” he says softly.

“Mm.” I kiss his cheek.

“You look great,” he adds.

“So do you. Ready to go celebrate Thanksgiving?”

He heaves out a sigh. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Emil drives us to his parents’ house across town. The bottles of red wine and the rolls we’re bringing sit in the backseat. I didn’t wear a skirt today, not because I was worried about anyone’s reaction—at least his family is open-minded in that regard—but because I wanted to dress up, and I had the perfect outfit to do so.

My slacks are a twist on a tuxedo pant. They fit my waist snugly, with just enough looseness through the hips to be respectable, but they’re slim and tapered down to my ankles. The fabric is matte black, but a small stripe along each side of my leg is shiny satin. My accompanying shirt is a white button-down, similar to Emil’s blue one, but the material is silkier and the sleeves have the slightest billow to give them shape. My boots, as Emil mentioned, have a tall heel but are otherwise simple black.

Emil gave me his fervent stamp of approval and even picked out my little white pearl belly button jewelry that no one but him will see.

Emil himself looks handsome, but he always does. His button-down is understated, his pants are simple black but fit him well, and his hair is brushed back neatly, glasses perched on his nose. I find myself smiling as I watch him drive, and he seems to sense it.

“What?” he asks, glancing over at me.

“Nothing,” I say quietly. “I just… Sometimes I look at you, and I never want to stop.”

Emil blinks, staring out the front windshield. “Shit, Christian.”

“I know,” I sigh. “It’s creepy.”

He huffs a laugh. “It’s not. It’s… I think it’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“My little exhibitionist,” I mumble fondly.

He gives my thigh a half-hearted smack. “It’s not that,” he says, laughter in his tone. “It has nothing to do with being turned on. Although, yes, that does kind of turn me on.”

I snort.

“It’s just that no one else cares enough to look,” he says, nearly breaking my heart. “But, somehow, you really like what you see, don’t you?”

“I kind of hate that you even have to ask that,” I admit. “But yes, I really, really do.”

He nods, his lips forming a partial smile. Emotional happy, that’s what it is. I brush the corner of his mouth with my fingertip, laughing when Emil snaps at me playfully.

When we get to his parents’, a few other vehicles are already in the drive. Emil parks along the edge of the street and turns off his car with a steadying breath. I reach for our items in the backseat.

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