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Then I feel her hands on my pecs again, pushing me back with all her might.
Well, she doesn’t push me hard enough because I barely fall back on my heels, but as she stalks off, I let her go.
My heart pounds madly in my chest as mad thoughts spiral through my head.
I would have been the best one for Emma. Still am the best one for Emma. I’m convinced of it.
The slightly fruity scent of her shampoo—of her—still hangs in the air, or maybe it’s clinging to my clothes where we touched. But it doesn’t matter. The scent invades my nostrils, filling me up with thoughts and feelings I shouldn’t be having.
But I can’t stop them.
And it finally occurs to me as I stare after Emma, gaze still glued to the place where she disappeared from view, that I don’t want to stop.
I no longer want to get her out of my system.
I want her to stay there.
I want to win her back.
And this time, I want to keep her.
18
Reese
I’m lying in my room, and I’m bored as fuck.
After what went down at the meeting today with the guys and Emma, I’ve got a funny feeling bouncing around in my chest that I don’t know how to explain. Rage? Jealousy? Probably all of it. I’m hoping my suspicions aren’t true because sadly, as much of a pussy as it might make me, it would break my heart if they were.
I hear my phone buzz, and I pick it up to find a text from some chick I banged a few times last semester.
JESSICA: Hey, hot stuff. What are you doing right about now?
It’s a booty text. I always find it weird and awkward when girls send booty texts. Isn’t that what guys are supposed to do? I should text her back and take her up on her offer, just to take my mind off shit. But I find I have little interest. The only girl that I can think of is Emma.
I actually haven’t even gotten laid since I came back to Clearwater U after the summer break. I hooked up with a girl at a bar the night before school started, but ever since I saw Emma on that first day, my sex life has dried up. I think it’s because I’m seriously lacking in interest for any other girl. I know that sounds lame, and believe me, if I could change it, I would.
But my fucking dick isn’t having it.
ME: Sorry, busy.
That’s all I say. I don’t hear anything back from her, so I presume she’s taken the hint. Trent and West are both out, so instead of lying around in the house we all rent together, I decide that I might as well do something. I take my laundry basket, which is seriously filled to the brim, and I head to the laundromat.
As I drive over to my favorite spot, I pass by a couple holding hands as they walk down the street. The guy leans over and whispers something into the girl’s ear, and she laughs, leaning into him as his arm pins her to his side. I can tell they’re going to fuck tonight. And it’s gonna be good.
My dick twitches, and I focus back on the road, not wanting to be caught staring and looking like some jealous perv. But if I
’m being honest, that’s what I want right now. To be out with someone who’s more than just a fuck. Someone I crave in all ways.
It’s shitty, I guess, but I’ve never had sex with anyone I feel that way about.
When I arrive at the laundromat, I park my car on the street a few spaces down from the door, and as I’m hauling my basket up to the entrance, I look through the window and almost drop all my clothes.
It’s Emma.
What are the odds that Emma Holloway is in the laundromat right now?
Pretty decent, I guess, considering that’s exactly where she is.
