Page 6 of Beautiful Crazy

Do I let her just walk away?

Do I apologize again?

Do I tell her I’m attracted to her?

Hmm…am I attracted…or just lonely?

Fuck it. I’m attracted.

“Em…”

Without making eye contact, she walks down the hall back to her bedroom.

“G’night, Emmett.”

“Goodnight…Emily…” My voice trails off and her name is a mere murmur as I watch her disappear into her bedroom.

Quietly, I make my way down to my room and close the door where I let out a long breath, pull off my shorts, and climb into bed. It feels like hours that I lie awake listening to Emily. I hear the shower turn on and then off. I hear her pull back the shower curtain and I hear the click of the bathroom door followed by the shutting of her bedroom door. Now all I can think about is whether or not she’s lying in her bed thinking of me. And if she’s thinking of me, is she doing it with one of the toys from her bedside drawer?

Fucking Christ, I’m probably going to hell for this, but regardless, I rub one out for a third time tonight to the vision of Emily getting herself off accompanied by the memory of what her lips felt like against mine.

“Emily.” Her name is a whisper as I come all over my stomach with the realization that I might be shooting myself in the foot with Cupid’s arrow, but I can’t help it.

I think I’m falling for my best friend.

Chapter 2

Emmett

Present Day

I’m pretty sure I’m a dick.

Like, the biggest dick in the history of dicks.

Although it’s a perfectly natural thing and she’s been doing it since she moved in here, Emily is on a date and I’m sulking in my bed at midnight wondering if she’s going to walk through the front door. I’m not a dick for trying to wait up. I would do that for her anytime. Sometimes she ends the date early and comes home complaining about how it was a nice time, but it just isn’t the right fit. We’ll snuggle and eat her favorite snacks – either rainbow colored goldfish or Totino’s Pizza Rolls when she’s feeling particularly snacky - and all is right with the world.

Sometimes she doesn’t come home at all.

If she’s not in the door by midnight, I know she’s not coming home.

Don’t get me wrong, when Emily’s away, a guy will play. I’ll walk around this apartment in the buff simply because I can, without the need to worry about Emily bursting in and being all offended. A dick has got to breathe too sometimes. Hell, some nights I’ll even bring home dinner and spend my night watching porn. You know, guy stuff. This is what happens to a man like me who gave up dating six months ago.

I tried to date. I really did. I took out just about every girl who works on my floor at one time or another. I met a few different girls at random bars and even met one at Wood’s Tavern back at home once or twice, but each time I went out with any of those women, I didn’t feel anything.

Zip.

Zilch.

Zero.

Not even a tiny spark.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t having a good time and wasn’t feeling a spark because every girl I went out with wasn’t Emily. Nobody had the same soft lips or the same texture to her hair. Nobody had hips like hers that felt good under my fingers. Not one of those women would do that tiny gasp thing that Emily did when I kissed her over a year ago. It was the cutest sound, and I long to hear it again someday.

But until that day, Emily Chesney has ruined my dating life and she doesn’t even know it because I’m too chicken shit to tell her.

She’ll ask me about dating, and I’ll lie and tell her I have a date and then just spend a few extra hours at work or at one of the bars on the other side of town, so I don’t run into her. Or sometimes she’ll have a date, so I’ll tell her I have one as well. Then when she sees me back at home, she just thinks I got home before her.

---