Page 94 of Things I Overshared
“No! No thank you.” I put up a hand in protest. Emerson presents me with the darts. I look up at his gorgeous face. “So? Show me how it’s done, Mr. Savant.”
“Better than Frosty,” he mutters under his breath as he sets down our drinks and grabs the darts. He throws his first shot. He hits the triangle in the center but outside of the inner ring around the bull’s-eye thingy. “That’s twenty,” he explains.
“I mean, you make it look easy, but . . .” I steady myself and aim, feeling all the eyes on me. I wish I hadn’t been so coy about pool. It’s my one cool card, and I can’t even play it. I clench everything and just take my best shot, feeling nervous. The dart makes it to the board, but just barely. All the guys make an “oh” sound, as if I just lost the whole game.
“Excuse me, I actually hit the board. I want some cheers!” I cry. A chorus of happy heys and woos breaks out. Emerson takes another shot, and everyone goes back to their own activities. He hits the ring outside the center dot.
“Twenty-five. You got sixteen,” he explains.
“Not bad, I guess?” I take my position, but Emerson wraps an arm around me from behind. I feel his sculpted chest down my back and I. Cannot. Breathe. “What happened to my massage therapist from earlier?” he says softly in my ear.
“W-What?”
“Your turn to relax,” he says as his other hand massages my neck. Oh, I am starting to relax, all right. I feel my body collapse back into him without my permission, and I hear him let out a low, gravelly laugh. He puts his hand over mine, and I feel his breath at my neck again. “Now put your hand higher and spread your feet more.”
He moves his knee in between my legs and pushes my feet apart. I stifle a moan, thankfully, since most of his family is within earshot. In the back of my mind, I make a mental note that after the reaction my body just had to his knee, I cannot sit down in this thin dress for the rest of the night. Absolutely not. “Now, don’t tense up before you throw it.” He pulls away, and I focus on not collapsing. I take a shaky breath and throw. My dart lands in the same place but one section over, closer to the center.
I turn around with a squeal.
“Good. Eight.” He looks so relaxed.
“Wait, what! Eight? It’s closer! Don’t try and fudge the numbers on me, Clark.” I point my fingers into his chest. He grabs it.
“It’s simply a larger square. I don’t make the rules,” he says with a smile as he, unbelievably, grabs my hand from his chest and kisses it. He keeps my hand in his and pulls me into him, just staring, like he does. Time stops, and I’m not sure if I’m still breathing, but I do know I lick my lips. His eyes dart down to my mouth. I look back up to his eyes, which peer into my soul underneath drooping lids.Holy Toledo tits, is he going to kiss me for the first time in front of his family?
“Well, that’s it for me.” Byron groans, loudly enough to burst the space-time bubble that surrounds us.
“Same.” Layla stands in my peripheral vision.
“We’re all turning in here. You two staying?” Benedict asks us. “Anya makes a killer breakfast spread.”
Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!
“No.” Emerson doesn’t hesitate. I feel myself start to deflate, then push the disappointment away. “We’re off to Paris tomorrow.” Emerson squeezes my hand as he leads me toward the house, and I have no idea what it means. Everyone nods and says their good nights as we head back into the living room. Emerson and Chelsea’s parents stand as we file in.
“About that time, isn’t it?” Haymitch asks. While everyone gives their bestlovely to meet yousandcome back soons, Emerson’s hand stays on the small of my back or around my waist. I lean into him, wishing the night wasn’t over.
But I’m quickly snapped back to reality when Chelsea approaches Emerson tentatively and then, without so much as a glance in my direction, asks him to walk her out.
The balls on this bitch right here. Wow.
I feel myself inhale sharply but plaster on a smile. I don’t care if he walks her out. In this fake scenario, I’m his girlfriend, totally secure in our solid relationship. This is fine. Everything is fine. Emerson gives my waist a squeeze, so I look up at him.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells me firmly, with a grit to his voice I don’t understand. He kisses me quickly on the forehead before he pulls away.
An eternity passes while they’re outside. My bag magically reappears. Layla gives me a hug, Ben says something flirty, and I barely register any of it. William and Haymitch chat loudly, dragging on their conversation to give their star-crossed children time to get back together outside. But Evelyn pulls me aside when Deborah excuses herself. She looks me in the eyes, and I’m struck by their intensity, just like her son’s.
“He never looked at Chelsea the way he looks at you, darling. Just . . . don’t hurt him, okay?” She searches my eyes as if this is a real possibility. As ifhehasn’t rejectedmemultiple times already on this trip, and hurtmefifty times more before that. I just nod and try to smile.
I feel him enter the room before I see him, and I try to look unaffected. He crosses over to me and takes my hand, but his eyes only meet mine for a second and they’re distracted. We are hugged and kissed out the door, where Charlie was able to pull up for us. I take a breath, bracing myself for whatever change will occur as soon as we’re in the car.
But bracing myself does no good. When the car pulls away, Emerson lets go of my hand to pull at his tie, and I feel a painful tug deep in my chest. He collapses in his seat, even though he’s already sitting. He sighs one of the heaviest sighs I’ve ever heard from him.
“Well, we did it?” I offer weakly.
He nods, keeping his eyes closed, and then adds a soft, “Thank you.”
I stare at him for a minute, knowing I can’t say anything I want to say in front of Charlie.
