Page 32 of Reclaim

“Having fun?” Hendrix asks her.

“Of course. I just came over to see your brother if that’s okay with you?”

Hendrix and I eye one another as she puts a hand over each of our shoulders, her head right in between us.Make it stop.

“I think I might be offended you’ve never put this much interest in me.” He tries to shift the attention, and I’m grateful for this twin telepathic bullshit we have. “I mean, we lookexactlythe same.”

“Yeah, but we’re more like siblings. Remember that time you farted in your car and tried to dutch oven me?” Laughs burst out of the three of us, and I’m grateful the direction of the conversation has changed. “Plus, my friend over there.” She points across the table at a red headed Barbie doll. “She’s into you.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce her to me?”

“Go talk to her yourself. I came here to talk to Jagger.” She twists her body toward me, ignoring Hendrix. “So, want to meet me at my place later?”

I casually look ahead, my whole body freezing at the sight before me. My body language clues Stacey in, and I feel her following my gaze.

Together we both look at Emerson. She’s laughing, her head back, carefree and radiant. I thought she was beautiful the few times I saw her, but without the washed out walls and constrictions of the prison around her, she’s ethereal.

Stacey insists on making her presence known, and her hands purposefully find my thigh. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she purrs.

Moving her hand, I let the noises around me drown out, and my focus is completely occupied by Emerson’s beauty. Watching her in her natural element is a privilege and a curse, a hint of what I could have and what I will be missing.

Stacey’s hand finds the back of my neck, eager to remind me I’m not alone. Pulling me close, her lips find my ear, and my body tenses in protest. It’s in this moment Emerson’s eyes find mine. She flicks her gaze between Stacey and me, then drops her head in dejection. Plastering on a fake smile, Emerson continues to speak to the woman she’s with, doing her best to not let her eyes veer in my direction. Her friend turns around, recognition written all across her face. They exchange a few more words before Emerson shakes her head and looks at me with disappointment. She holds my stare, and Stacey’s grip on me becomes tighter. My eyes plead with her to see through this facade, for this not to be the way she remembers me.

11

Emerson

The words fumble out of my mouth as I try and process the picture in front of me. Two weeks filled with repeat images of Jagger whispering in my mouth just to see him draped in another woman’s limbs and lips stings more than it should.

“Did you just see a ghost?” Taylah asks.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

“You better tell me before I turn around and make a scene,” she threatens.

My brain and mouth don’t work together fast enough, and Taylah turns around to see what’s caught my attention.

“Holy fuck, is that Jagger? That’s Jagger isn’t it.”

“Can we please not do this here,” I say through clenched teeth.

“You said he was hot; you didn’t say he was sex on legs.” She has one more glance before her focus returns to me. “And there’s fucking two of them,” she squeals.

“Taylah keep your voice down.”

“Who’s the girl?” she asks, finally registering the reason for my annoyance.

“His girlfriend?”

“She wishes,” she scoffs while shaking her head. “He can barely handle her touching him.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me.”

“You’ve got those self sabotaging glasses on again,” she says, waving me off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, when you associate something negative with every good thing that could potentially happen to you.”

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