Page 127 of Cerulean Truth
"You're not my keeper," I retorted.
"No, I'm your best friend who's trying to prevent someone else's parent, sister, friend, or neighbor from getting hurt because our Leader can't control his anger, all because of his crush on our new friend Emma."
"I don't—" I began, but Jackson cut me off again.
"Please, don't deny you have feelings for her either. Your denial is practically a second personality at this point."
I sighed heavily. I attempted to push away the memories from last night, but they flooded back regardless. Emma and I under a blanket, sharing Scotch and cigars. Emma's laughter echoing in my mind. Emma’s moans when eating steak. Emma crying in my arms. Emma sleeping peacefully in my home.
And all the warm touchy feelings that came with those.
Fuck.
"Fine," I relented. "I might feel something for her.”
Jackson smirked. “No shit.”
“So now what? You’re gonna give me advice on how to date? After which we’ll make a nice pot of chamomile tea and learn to crochet?” I growled, visibly annoyed.
Jackson laughed. “Hey, if that’s what it takes to keep you from killing and punching out people, I’m all for it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on the crocheting lessons.”
“Suit yourself,” Jackson replied, still grinning. “But seriously, man, you need to figure this out. Emma’s great and as long as you don’t have a handle on these feelings, you’re a liability to us all.”
I nodded, the weight of Jackson’s words settling in. “Yeah, I know.”
“Good,” Jackson said, clapping me on the shoulder, resuming his breakfast. “And hey, if all else fails, at least I now know you like chamomile tea."
I flipped him off.
As I left the Cube a bit later, my nerves were shot at the thought of facing Emma again.
We’d barely exchanged words that morning and I had dropped her off without so much as a meaningful goodbye.
“Fucking Jackson,” I muttered, cursing him for making me aware of my feelings for Emma.
But he had a point; I needed to keep my anger in check. If my feelings for Emma were part of the problem, I'd have to find another way to deal with them.Maybe I should just ask her out?
My stomach turned at the idea. I wasn’t really the “asking out” kind of guy.
"Screw it, I'll figure it out later," I mumbled to myself, determined to keep my temper in check from now on. I had to be the best version of myself. Emma didn’t deserve any less.
The training room was empty when I got there, as usual. Emma strutted in ten minutes late, looking... different. She always looked hot, but now she was... was she wearing makeup? And those work-out clothes… was it my imagination or were they tighter than usual? Also, she usually wore her hair tiedback, so it wouldn’t bother her during our fights but now, her hair was all shiny and flowing freely over her shoulders.
She shrugged off her sweater, revealing a cropped tank top, which accentuated her breasts. My throat dried.Definitely not my imagination.
My eyes dropped to her high-waisted leggings, which were enhancing her curves. My eyes wandered, and I swallowed so hard, I instantly translated a large bottle of water without even realizing.
"Sorry I'm late," she breathed, snapping me out of my trance.
“Huh?” I asked slightly disoriented, struggling to regain my composure.
A wicked grin spread across her lips. "I said, I'm sorry I'm late," she repeated, winking at me.
"Uhm…Yeah, it's cool," I muttered, trying to recall all former Leaders of Cyclos so I’d think about anything other than the fact I would have to put my hands on that smokin’ hot body of hers in a matter of minutes.
She stepped closer, and I felt like a deer caught in headlights.
