Page 315 of Breaking the Rules
I still love her.
It feels so fucking good.
Hell, even if this goes down in flames, if she decides she'll never love me, if she realizes that I am and always have been a piece of shit—
It will still feel good, loving her.
God damn, I'm so obnoxiously sappy now.
And I don't even care.
"You're still giving me a look." She licks arrabiata from her index finger. The tomato sauce matches the red of her nail. It's more orange. Her paint is more crimson. But it's Emma all the same.
"Thinking about how I'm going to rock your world."
"Rock your world? Really?" She stabs a piece of shrimp. "That's your dirty talk?"
"You want me to get started?"
Her pupils dilate. "Well…" She brings the shrimp to her mouth. Bites off half. Chews. Swallows. "You aren't eating."
I motion to my half empty bowl.
She motions back. "It's half-full."
"You're an optimist."
"Oh my God." Her laugh fills the room. "That's so bad."
"I'm gonna have to turn off theSay Anything."
"And put on what?"
"What kind of music is optimistic?"
"What do you listen to when you aren't being soothed by my amazing jams?"
"My taste isn't nearly so—"
"Good." She finishes her shrimp. "It's not as good as mine."
"I was going to say specific."
"Watch it." She swirls another forkful of pasta.
"Or you won't put out?"
"Oh my God, Hunter." Her cheeks flush. "You're so…"
"That a 'yes, Hunter, please turn on the dirty talk'?"
"If you want to win me over, you should start here." She motions to her speakers as they switch to a Bayside song. "Try 'Thank you for curating the perfect playlist, Emma.'"
"This is new?"
"You can't tell?"
I shake my head. I love that Emma loves this music. Hell, I like it well enough. But not enough to notice the subtle differences.
