Page 33 of Not Falling for the Forward
I see her car pull on to her drive and step out of mine, food in hand. I can’t help but think this is how it should look, her car next to mine on our driveway. I shake the image out of my head as I open her car door for her.
“Hey.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Hey,” I reply as I pull her into a hug. Her tense body fits against mine perfectly. I rest my cheek on her head and feel her start to relax against me as I rub small patterns on her back.
When she steps back and looks up at me, I notice she has new dark circles under her eyes and her hair has fallen out of its usual tight pony, tendrils of it framing her face. I can’t help the urge to tuck a loosestrand behind her ear, and I don’t fight it. I feel her lean into my hand as a small sigh escapes her lips.
“Come on,” I say. “Let’s get you inside and fed.”
***
With Emily in the shower, I busy myself in her kitchen steaming veggies and searing the steaks. I don’t know how she likes hers so I play it safe with medium rare, I can always cook it longer when she’s done.
“This smells amazing,” Her voice behind me startles me and I jump, the reaction causes her lips to turn up in the corners in a small smile. Almost dropping the piping hot tray that I’m holding is worth it for that little smile.
I grin over my shoulder at her. “It’ll be ready in two minutes, if you’re ready to eat?”
“Consider me starved,” she replies as she moves over to her small dining table, clearing off some letters and junk. She sets the table with practiced efficiency, “Do you want a drink?” she asks as she pulls out a bottle of wine from the small wine rack by the fridge.
“Water is fine, I have to drive home later.” Even if I am here for hours, the alcohol out of my system by the time I drive home, I’d never risk it.
“Okay. Do you mind if I have a drink?” she asks, eyeing me cautiously as if I would scald her for needing a glass of wine at the end of a tough day.
“It’s your house, Em. And I think you need it after today,” I say as I bring the plates to the table.
“Boy, do I.” She sighs as she pours herself a generous glass of red. She brings our drinks to the table and sits across from me. Her shoulders seem to relax as she takes a large gulp of her drink, sighing as it goes down. She eyes me over her glass as if expecting me to chastise her for drinking. When I send her a smile she appears to relax more and says, “This is much better than the toast that I was going to make myself.”
“I mean, I do a pretty good jam on toast, if you’d rather that?” I smirk, “But you’ve had a long day and deserve a proper meal.” She cuts into her steak, and I watch the juices flow onto her plate. “Fuck. I didn’t ask how you like it.” She lifts a brow at my comment, causing me to smirk. “I meant your meat… I didn’t ask how you like your meat.” She snorts a laugh, and I feel heat start to rise on my neck. “Fuck… I…”
“Medium rare is perfect,” she says, saving me from myself. That small smirk is still there, and I think her making me flustered is helping take her mind off things.
Sensing she doesn’t want to talk, we sit and eat our meals together in silence. I take this time to study her. Her hair is down and damp around her shoulders, she washed her makeup off in the shower and I’m glad she didn’t feel like she needed to put any more on. She really is beautiful. Her high cheekbones and button nose are covered in freckles. Those lips that I haven’t stopped thinking about since I got my first taste of them are plump and my new favourite shade of pink. But it’s her eyes that stand out the most, bright green with tiny specks of brown, like a dense forest in the height of summer.
She must feel me watching her because she glances up over her glass when she takes a sip. A shy smile forms on her lips, “Talk to me,” she says.
“What would you like to talk about?” I ask.
“Anything, tell me more about how you got into football. How did you get scouted? I’m not really in the talkative mood, so tell me more about you,” she suggests and digs back into her meal.
So, I talk. I tell her about the day I was playing for my local team at fourteen and a scout was in the crowd. I tell her about how he asked both my mum and dad into the meeting, not wanting either of them to be unsure of the details and how he gave me a chance and invited me to trials. She listens intently, giving me the space to talk.
“Harry was so jealous, we almost stopped being friends. As soon as he saw how much extra work it was having to finish school and be at football practice he stopped with the jealousy.” I laugh at the memory of my childhood best friend. “He actually helped me pass my GCSEs. That’s one thing my mum was adamant about. As soon as school started slipping, football was out. So, between me and H, we didn’t let it slip. I owe him my whole career.”
“To Harry,” Emily says lifting her almost empty glass. I clink mine against hers and she finishes off her wine in one long gulp.
“And to Jaz,” I say. She tilts her head waiting for me to continue. “She was his fiancée and my other best friend. She was the passenger that also didn’t make it.” My voice cracks. “I wanted to tell you about her too, because I only told you half the story and she was a huge part of my life. You should know about her too.”
“To HarryandJaz,” Emily says lifting her glass again.
When we have both finished our meals she asks, “Want to watch some TV for a bit?” and I stand to clear the table. “Leave it,” she says. “I’ll do it in the morning.” I place the plates by the sink anyway.
“You’re off tomorrow?” I ask as she pads into the living room.
“Yup, and I plan on binging one of my comfort shows until I fall asleep, wanna join?”
I really, really do.
Chapter fourteen
