Page 11 of Never Forget

“Since when? Everyone knows you two are⁠—”

“Not sleeping,” I finish for him. “It’s not romantic or anything like that. It’s just a… physical arrangement.”

“A physical arrangement,” Emmy repeats slowly, sounding unimpressed.

“Yes. And I really don’t like sharing a bed. So if you’re not going to actually sleep on the couch, maybe we can work something out? We can set a time for you to sneak into Blake’s room like we both know you’re going to anyway, and I can make sure it looks like someone actually slept on the couch. We can switch back in the morning or something.”

“You’re really not together?”

“We’re really not.”

Emmy, for whatever reason, looks like I just told him I’m personally responsible for the existence of puppy mills.

“I’m so sorry, Naz. I shouldn’t have assumed. To be fair, everyone kind of assumes…”

“Isn’t there a phrase for that? Something about keeping your ass out of other people’s business?”

Emmy’s shoulders drop, and he nods. “I really am sorry. And you can totally have the couch. I’m not staying anyway, I need to head up to the New York office to talk to legal and PR about the Stay Loud aftermath and the extended tour dates.”

Rolling my eyes, because it’s impossible to stay mad at someone so little and cute and overall awesome, I pull Emmy into a hug. “I’m not mad at you, Em. It’s just an awkward situation. It wasn’t your fault.”

He shakes his head fervently. “No, it was my mistake. And I hate—hate—making mistakes. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.”

“No need, little man,” I say before stealing his freshly brewed cup of coffee. I take a long sip and then spit some tea leaves back into the cup. “Never mind. I’m going to go pick up some coffee and donuts or something. You want anything?”

Emmy gets to work straining the cup of tea I’m assuming he was making for Blake. “No, I’m good, thanks. I’m going to have to head out and find Mr. Holland some more tea leaves.”

“You know you’re the only one that calls him that, right?”

“What?”

“Mr. Holland. You’re the only one that doesn’t call him by his first name.”

“It’s a little different. He technically works for all of you, but I work directly under him so maintaining professionalism is important.”

“Yeah, I bet you do,” I mutter under my breath.

Emmy slaps me with a tea towel. “Stop it.”

“No, you stop it.”

“Behave, children.” Blake’s deep voice startles us both, and Emmy almost throws his coffee mug. I manage to hold his hand down and mitigate the worst of the mess, but both of us are splashed with the coffee that I’m pretty certain is mostly coconut-flavored creamer.

“Christ. What the hell happened in here?”

“Your boy toy is a little jumpy this morning. You might need to do something to get him to relax, boss.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Hmm? I didn’t say anything. Gonna head on a breakfast run. Text me if you need anything, ‘kay byee.”

“Look, hockey romance has me in just as much of a chokehold as everyone else right now, I’m just saying there are other sports that are far more appealing when it comes to aesthetics.”

“Like what?”

Shawna and I look at each other, then back at Scott. “Rugby.”

Scott holds up his beer. “Touche.”