Page 46 of Quarantine Crush
I decide to preserve my own life by ending this as soon as possible.
“Listen, it’s been fun, but I’m going to put some clothes on and get to work. It was nice to finally meet you all. I’ve been dying to meet the women who’ve been having all the adventures with my Emy while I’ve been away.”
I wave and walk away, ignoring their attempts to goad me back to the camera. Emy starts in again with threats that involve tit punches, and I swear to God I will never understand female friendships.
I’m glad Emy has them, though. Clearly, she’s been through some stuff, and even though I hate that she hasn’t shared it all with me, it makes me feel better to know that she hasn’t been through it alone.
I’m re-exiting the bathroom, dressed in sweats and a tee and ready to work-from-home, when Emy blocks my path.
“Hey,” I say, smiling until I see her expression. “Uh, what’s up?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Uh, no?” She looks ready to tit punchmenow. “Yes? I don’t know. What’s the right answer? Actually, what’s the question?”
“You think you can play my guitar and make me cry and then kiss me senseless–and then flirt with my friends?”
“I…” What the hell is happening? “Wait. Are we not doing the whole ignoring thing on the kiss? Because I actually think we should talk about it.”
“Ugh,” Emy growls, like, legit actually growls. Her face flushes before she spins on her heel and stomps back to the living room.
I follow, determined not to let this become some big thing.
“Hold on.” I grab her wrist just before she reaches her computer. When she turns back to me, I search her expression and am shocked when I see the evidence proving my hunch. “Are you jealous?”
“What?” She scoffs way too hard. “No, of course not. I’m pissed that you’re acting like a man-whore who can’t keep it in his–”
I kiss her.
It’s stupid and reckless and crossing a line that is fast becoming blurred anyway.
But it’s the only thing that feels right.
Unfortunately, Emy doesn’t agree. She pulls back, yanking her wrist from my hand and staring up at me with wild eyes.
“What the hell was that for?” she demands.
“I don’t know,” I admit, frustrated with so many things all at once. At myself. At the kiss and how much I liked it. At quarantine.
“Knox,” she says, and the warning in her tone simply makes me want to do it again. Which makes no sense. “What’s happening here?”
“I don’t know,” I repeat quietly.
“Let’s start with something easy. Do you like kissing me?”
Her expression is softer now, confused but open. Hopeful. And I know if I kiss her again, she’ll let me.
Fuck.
That single look speaks volumes, and I realize just how much I stand to lose if I screw this up. It’s not a fling or a quarantine-and-chill as Hadley put it. This is Emy we’re talking about. What if I kiss her again and it doesn't work out? What if it all falls apart and I lose her forever?
I can’t risk that.
She’s all I have.
I sigh and step back. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was a mistake–all of it. Sorry.”
Her disappointment crushes me, and I open my mouth to take it back, but Emy’s eyes harden.
