Page 36 of Emily: Hello Kitten

Sitting down, I glance around to make sure no one has bothered to notice us.

Adrian tries to take my hand, but I fold my hands in my lap. “We can’t keep doing this.”

“You’ve said that every day,” he comments.

“And I’ve meant it every time, Adrian. I have,” I whisper, staring at the admittedly cute origami birds. “You know I’m right, otherwise you wouldn’t avoid the conversation.”

“We’re not back at school yet.”

“And you haven’t promised to stop when we get there. No more comments on papers, no sticky notes, no changing my ‘no’s into something else.” My voice shakes as I say it. “No promises and no follow-through.”

“No eye-fucking me in class,” he murmurs.

“No giving me better grades.”

“I’ve never done that, Emily. Believe me or don’t, but I grade fairly and you don’t need to fail to prove it. I don’t want you to fail.”

I smooth out my dress. “Tonight is the last night we spend together. P–Promise me.”

“I’d be more likely to promise that if I believed it’s whatyouwant.”

“It’s what weneed. That’s more important.” I flip my hair over my shoulder. “I need my best friend. I need to graduate. You need your job.”

“You can’t even look at me when you say it,” he says, his voice cracking slightly.

He nudges his chair back, and I glance at him as he’s rocked back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. I swallow and gaze at his face. His gorgeous, annoyed face.

When our eyes meet, he sighs. “I know what’s smart, Emily.”

“Then let’s make this easy. We’ll finish our great weekend and nothing else.”

He shakes his head slightly, the muscle in his jaw tensing. “I can’t agree to stop wanting you. I can’t agree to predicting a future where we don’t do this again.”

“Don’t say things like that,” I hiss. “It’s just sex and you know it.”

“Emily,” he says, his eyes softening.

I shake my head and walk away. I can’t do this.

Not with him.

Not at my sister’s wedding.

Not when I can’t stand looking at him as I say it.

Itisjust sex. Sure, we can tease and talk to one another easily, but plenty of people find that. Our feelings will pass and we’ll both wish we'd moved on before shit hits the fan.

All I’m doing is ending things before the bad smacks us around and ruins our future. I take the stairs instead of the elevator and fumble with my purse, struggling to get the key out. I end up with my phone, texting Beth a lie that everything’s fine. To soften it, I tell the truth too.

The wedding is beautiful, the guy my mom picked for me is a tool, and I can’t wait to be back on campus.

She responds quickly.

Ah, I miss you too.

I finally find the key. I slip it into the door, text my mother that I’m not feeling well, then struggle with my dress.

I can’t reach the zipper, I’m losing my mind, hating myself, calling myself a slut, calling myself easy, calling myself a thousand things because if I don’t, I’ll want to run back to him.

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