Page 4 of Trustfall

In high school, I knew how protective Nate was of Emory, so I kept my distance. In fact, I even helped him warn guys away from her. I couldn’t exactly then go and touch her myself.

I met Nate in my freshman year when I first moved to Emberfield, and we instantly clicked. We both started playing football and discovered we made a great team on the field, so we started spending time together after school, and the rest is history. As an only child, Nate became like a brother to me.

I didn't notice Emory at first when we met because she was only twelve. But when she started high school a couple of years later, it was like I was seeing her for the first time. She had developed over the summer, and her wavy chestnut hair had grown even longer. She started wearing eyeliner and lip gloss, and the little girl I remembered hiding behind a book on the windowsill was gone. Since Nate's friendship meant a lot to me, I did the only thing I could think of—I kept my distance from her. It worked for two years, until the night of graduation, the night before I left Emberfield for good. I thought that was the last time I would ever see her. I hadn't planned on coming back.

I didn’t come back for a long time. I traveled the country that first year before settling in New York City. But when I got the call about my dad a few weeks ago, I knew I had to come home. I had to face what I had been avoiding for eight years. My mom offered to let me stay with her while we figured everything out, but I knew I would need my own space. So I called the first person I could think of who could find me a rental on short notice. Nate and I had kept in touch over the years, and I knew his father owned some real estate in the area.

Nate told me about the cottage and said he could get me a good deal, so it was hard to pass up. Only after I agreed to take it did he tell me it was next door to his sister and he would kill me if I touched her. When I went to respond, he conveniently had to take an important call and was gone before I could get a word in.

I had second thoughts after hearing that. I knew it wasn’t the best idea to move next door to Emory, especially after having to avoid her all throughout high school. But it’s not like I have many options, so here we are. I’m not officially moving in until the weekend, but I wanted to check it out and take measurements. I had to give up my apartment in the city to be able to afford a rental here, so I’m having all my furniture moved over. Not that it’s much. I’m upgrading from a studio to a two-bedroom cottage, so I’m sure everything will fit. And sure, I guess I’m avoiding going to my parents’ house. But avoidance is my specialty when it comes to my dad.

I glance down at the scrubs in my hand, noticing the embroidered name on the right side of the shirt:Emory Caldwell, RN. I know I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But my brain doesn’t get the memo in time, and I hold the scrubs up to my nose and inhale the fresh scent of clean soap and lilacs. My dick twitches. Shit—I need to return these and get the hell out of here. I should leave them at the front door, but instead, my feet carry me up the steps and my fist knocks on the door, still clutching the scrubs. I hear shuffling, whispering voices, and then a yelp—do they have a dog?

The door swings open, and a girl with long dark brown hair and glasses comes into view. The same girl who was waiting by the door earlier. She looks a little like Emory, but more terrifying. Currently, she’s eyeing me up and down like she wants to either fuck me or kill me. I genuinely can’t tell which.

“Hey, I'm Luke,” I say, holding out my hand and flashing a smile. “I'm moving in next door. Nice to meet you?—”

“Allie,” she says and looks down at my hand like it’s a hook or a claw or something. I put it back down and wipe the sweat on the side of my jeans.

“Nice to meet you, Allie. Is Emory around? I want to give her these. She left them on the ground outside,” I say, holding up the scrubs.

“You remember me?” I hear a soft voice coming from behind Allie. Jesus, I didn’t even realize she was right there. She peeks her head out from behind her friend.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Emory, you are a twenty-four-year-old woman. Stop hiding behind me like I’m dropping you off at kindergarten for the first time.” She steps aside, and now Emory's fully visible. With the haze of our earlier meeting cleared, I take a good look at her. She's still stunning, just like she was eight years ago. Her hair is shorter now, reaching just past her shoulders, but those curious hazel eyes are exactly the same. She’s no longer half-naked, now wearing denim shorts and an oversized T-shirt with an Ellsmont University logo on it.

I let out a low chuckle. “Of course I remember you. I was only at your house every single day for years.”

“Oh yeah,” she says as if she’s just now remembering who I am. “It’s nice to see you again, Luke. Thanks for bringing these inside.” She reaches out to take the scrubs, but I hold them out of her reach.

“You know, on second thought. These look kind of comfy. Mind if I hold onto them? My clothes don’t arrive until Saturday.” I throw her a smile.

Allie makes a strangled noise and nearly shrieks, “Okay, I don’t know what kind of weird-ass flirting you guys are doing right now, but those scrubs are potentially contaminated and need to be either thrown out or put in the washing machine immediately.”

Emory snaps out of it and lets out a frustrated huff. She snatches the clothes from my hand and storms to the laundry closet, stuffing them into the washing machine. “First, it was food poisoning, not a virus. And second, I told you I changed into these after my shift! You need to chill out, Allie.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when you start vomiting. At which point, I will need you to vacate the premises.” She turns back to me and eyes me up and down. “I’ll let you two catch up.” And then she fucking winks at me. I still can’t figure out if this chick wants to tear my clothes off or stab me in the face.

“I’m sorry about all this,” Emory says. “There was a food poisoning outbreak at work today, and Allie has a pretty intense fear of vomiting…”

“Emetophobia.”

“Yeah. How do you know that?”

“Bartender,” I breathe out. “I know a little about everything.”

“Makes sense.”

“And you’re a nurse.”

“Yep. Emberfield Memorial Emergency Department.”

“Nate mentioned that a while back. Congrats. That’s a great job.”

“Thanks. I like it.” She looks around, twirling a lock of hair around her finger. “So…you’re the guy moving in next door?”

“I’m the guy,” I confirm.

We stand there for a minute, trying to figure out who is going to speak next.

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