Page 83 of Anything But Lonely

Yet I find myself asking, “How close exactly?”

She turns to me, her lips parted. But then she’s eyeing me up and down, and I immediately feel exposed—like she can see directly through me. A smirk blooms on her face just before she mouths, “Jealous?”

My stomach drops, and I want to jump out of my skin. “N-no,” I stumble out. “I’m just curious.”

Emerson laughs, and Crew asks what’s so funny. She comes up with some excuse that saves me from any further embarrassment, but I barely register it.

She grabs him under his arms, helping him down from the counter before following him towards the living room. As she closes the distance between us, her arm brushes up against mine, and she leans in close enough that I can feel her breath against my neck.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, rockstar.”

When I get home from tonight’s show, I’m greeted by the dimly lit hotel room and two bedrooms with the doors cracked open.

The adrenaline from the concert still hums beneath my skin, the ringing in my ears from the roar of the crowd just starting to fade.

I peek into Crew’s bedroom and find him sprawled out in the twin bed, stuffed animals surrounding him, with his Pepper one held tightly against his chest. I smile to myself at his soft snores, his little chest rising and falling.

Slowly closing the door, I cross the living room towards the other two bedrooms, tempted to peek into the one that’s currently occupied.

It’s like a force pulling me to Emerson’s bedroom, the thought so tempting that I have to stop myself from reaching for the door.

I fist my hand, bargaining with myself.

I just want to make sure she’s okay.

What if her phone isn’t plugged in? What if she doesn’t have some water by her bed? What if she’s cold and needs another blanket?

And that’s when I hear the soft thrum of a familiar melody. I can't make out the words, only the muffled rise and fall of the melody spilling softly into the silence.

It’s one I’d recognize anywhere.

Because it’s mine.

I haven’t let myself really think about Emerson’s secret that Crew spilled—how she listens to Cross My Heart to fall asleep. It felt like too personal a detail to know about her, like I wasn’t deserving of that piece of her—no matter how much I want to be.

I reach out for the doorknob, pulling the door quietly shut before taking the few steps to my bedroom, not trusting myself to be so close to hers any longer.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

My night with Emerson was supposed to get this out of my system.

I wasn't supposed to be sitting in this empty hotel bedroom, all too aware that she's just on the other side of this wall. It was supposed to be a one-time thing to help me move on, help me move forward and on to someone else—anyone else.

She's probably tangled in her sheets, wearing one of those oversized T-shirts with my band’s name on it.

And I hate that my mind knows exactly how easily I could cross the distance between us.

How easily it would be to sneak into her dark bedroom and beg her for one more night.

Just one more night.

That’s all I need.

I walk over to my backpack slung over the desk chair. I reach in, my hand immediately finding the small zipper on the inside. You wouldn’t know it was there unless you were looking for it—a perfect place to keep the one and only physical memory I have from my night with Emerson.

The scratches on my back faded, the bite mark on my neck too.

I feel the soft fabric between my fingers, closing my fists around Emerson’s underwear as if someone was watching me, hiding it in my grasp.