Page 45 of Not Falling for the Forward
“I needed to talk to you, and you weren’t answering your phone.”
“So, you came to my house?” she yells hissing her S’s. A waft of vomit stenched breath hits me in the face but I do my best to ignore it.
“Are you going to yell at me on your doorstep about it or can you yell at me inside?”
She puts a hand over her mouth, “I can’t control the temperature of my voice right now,” she says behind her fingers.
“Well, I happen to like your voice hot, but the neighbours might complain,” I tease. She furrows her brow seemingly confused at me continuing her temperature for volume slip up.
She nods and I help her step over the threshold of her home and she ‘walks’—pinballs from wall to wall—up the stairs. I ready her a glass of water and sit on the couch and wait.
I hear the distinct noise of reaching coming from the bathroom and go upstairs to investigate. The bathroom door at the top of the stairs is open and I can see her small body curled up on the floor. “You okay?” I ask. She lifts her left arm and almost makes a thumbs up.
“Here,” I say as I sit next to her on the hard tile. I pull her upright, so she leans against me and lift the glass of water to her lips. She moans as the cool water enters her mouth and she greedily gulps it down. I’d be lying if I said my cock didn’t respond to that noise out of her mouth. “Just sips,” I say as I take the glass away. “Or you’ll be sick again.”
She leans her head against my shoulder and sighs. We sit there in silence the cold from the tile seeping through my sweatpants into my bones. I run my hand up and down her arm in a soothing motion.
“Why are you here, Jack?” she asks again.
I sigh, “Because I saw the article and I couldn’t cope with you thinking there was anyone else.” She shakes her head as it falls it into her hands.
“No,” she groans. “You were with that model and that’s okay,” she says into her hands. “You’re a rebound. We’re not together. It just sucks.”
I am too shocked at her thinking that I am with Sam for me to even register that she has called me a rebound.
I pull her hands away from her face to make eye contact with her so she can see that I am sincere as I say, “No, I wasn’t. I haven’t been for a very long time. It was a hug and a kiss on the cheek for one of my closest and oldest friends. I’m probably better explaining this tomorrow when you have a chance of remembering what I’m saying.” I take her chin in my hands, so she has no choice but to look me in the eyes, “But I didn’t want you—”
“I kissed someone tonight,” Emily blurts, cutting me off.
I blink confused. My already cold body turns to ice at the confession. “What?”
Tears start to pool in Emily's eyes, I automatically wipe them away with my thumb as they fall, “I thought you were fucking that model in your hotel room.” A sob escapes her mouth and it’s the most heartbreaking sound I have ever heard. “I thought you’d got what you wanted out of me, and I was so mad. I don’t even know why I did it. I think I just wanted to prove that I could if you were. It was really bad.” She sniffles, “I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath and stand, burying my feelings for the time being. Emily doesn’t look up at me. I wave my hand in front of her face and she looks at me confused. “Let me help you get into bed,” I say to her as she reaches out to me and places her small palm in mine.
“You’re not mad?” she asks as I help her up.
I pull her body into mine as I say, “Oh Emily, I am beyond mad. I’m fucking furious. I’m jealous and I think this feeling in my stomach that I’ve never felt before could be heartbreak. But we’re not going tobe able to have an actual conversation about this until you sleep off the alcohol.” I turn her to the sink, bracketing her in with my arms on either side and meet her eyes in the mirror. “Now, do I need to brush your teeth, or do you think you’ll manage?”
Chapter twenty
Jack
Emily resurfaces earlier than I was expecting. I am drinking a coffee at her little dining table, scrollingUber Eatsto see if I can order breakfast to the house when she stops short in the kitchen, surprised to see me.
“You’re still here?” Her voice is rough as she eyes me sceptically.
“I slept in your spare room, I hope you don’t mind.” Slept is a broad choice of words for my fitful night of tossing and turning and listening out to hear if Emily was choking on her own vomit.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she says pointing to the washing machine behind me where the bedding I slept on is now going through a cycle. I shrug.
She makes her way to the sink and gulps down a large glass of water only to refill it and turn to face me, glass cradled in her hands. “So,” she sighs.
“So.”
“Firstly, I would like to apologise for—"
“No,” I interrupt as I stand and make my way too her. I take the glass from her hands and place it down on the counter then take her hands in mine. “You don’t have anything to apologise for.” She opensher mouth to protest, and I put a finger on her lips. Her eyes flare in annoyance at the gesture and I grin. I pull her behind me, to the front room where we sit on the sofa, knees touching.
