Page 5 of Beautiful Crazy

More than cool, actually.

Emily Chesney has become my best friend.

In these two years, she’s learned more about me than anyone. Even Wes. Even my own brothers. She knows how I like my coffee. She knows that I don’t love sour cream or refried beans, but I love Mexican food. She knows what my underwear looks like because we combine our loads to save money and she even folds them for me when it’s her turn to do laundry. She knows the route I take when I go for a run and that I always buy expensive Adidas running shoes. She also knows that I’m usually attracted to blue eyed, blonde-haired women and not brown-eyed, brown-haired girls like the one standing in front of me.

Never, in my time living with Emily, have I seen her as anything other than the little sister I never had. Okay, that’s a bit of a lie. Any man would be blind to not see her simple beauty.

Emily is the type who looks great when she’s all made up to go out for a night on the town, but she looks stunning when the makeup and jewelry come off. Her soft brown hair looks amazing whether it’s hanging in ringlets around her almost heart shaped face or tied in a knot at the top of her head. She’s not a stick. Emily has curves that would drive any man wild so it’s beyond me why she’s still single.

I don’t know why the hell I’m all of a sudden looking at her differently now. Maybe it’s the vodka, maybe I’m just tired, or maybe I’m emotional after the day I’ve had, and I just feel the need to be close to someone. Emily’s always there when I’m having a bad day. She’s my one constant and I don’t know what I’ll do when the day comes that she moves in with another man.

A man she desires.

A man she wants to spend the rest of her life with.

A man who isn’t me.

But…what if…

“Hey.” She lays a hand on my chest like she’s done a gazillion times before only this time I feel it across my shoulders, down my arms, and all the way into my toes. Like a surge of energy jolting through me. “You okay? You drifted for a minute.”

“Yeah.” I tilt my head and drop my gaze to her lips for just a millisecond. “I just wondered…”

“Wondered what?”

I slide my hand into her hair, rubbing her cheek with my thumb. I must be having an out of body experience because I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

“Emmett,” she breathes, but she can’t say anymore because my need for her grows enough that I lean in and lower my mouth over hers. Her lips are soft and supple and instead of pushing me away, she’s kissing me back. That gives me the courage to keep going. Holy shit. I’m crossing a line I’ve never thought about crossing, and I think I might like it.

I think I want Emily.

Her hands hold me on both sides as I deepen our kiss, my hands tangling in her hair as I maneuver her head at just the right angle. Fuck, she tastes good. Like fruit punch. I slip my tongue between her open lips, and she meets me there, swiping her tongue over mine once, twice, three times and then before I can take another breath, it’s gone.

She’s gone.

Her hands on my chest, she steps back slightly and all I can do is stare at her because oh, my God that was fucking glorious! Why have I never kissed her before? Why have I never even considered it? Maybe she’s the girl I’ve needed all along. The one sitting right under my nose. Why the hell did she stop?

“Pffffttt!” Emily falls into a fit of giggles and puts her hands up in front of her, shaking her head. “We should never, ever, ever do that again.”

Wait…what?

“I mean, damn, Emmett. You’re an excellent kisser, and you probably make a lot of girls very happy. Phew!” She fans herself with her hands. “But I get it. You’re a little drunk. I’m a little drunk. It’s been an absolute shitty day but we’ll both kick ourselves in the morning if we keep doing…” she gestures between us. “That.”

She doesn’t want it.

She doesn’t want me.

Maybe I had this all wrong.

“Right.” I bob my head. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” I try my best to play off what I just did so I don’t embarrass her or myself. “Sorry about that. I guess my brain is in a fog.”

“Nah.” She playfully punches my upper arm. “Probably just smoke inhalation from those chicken bricks earlier.”

I chuckle next to her even though on the inside, I don’t feel like laughing. I watch as Emily quickly picks up the vodka bottle, the fruit punch, and our shot glasses and puts them all in their respective places. Once everything is put away and the television is off, she puts her hands on her hips.

“Okay, everything’s cleaned up. I think I’m gonna get my shower and then…” She stretches her arms out and pretends to yawn. “I think I’ll go to bed. I’m beat.”

Fuck.

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