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He smirks, looking every bit as angry, and brooding as he wants everyone to see him. But as his best friend, I see more than that. I see him, all of him.
“Thanks for being a good friend, fuckface.”
“Anytime, asshole, now are you done with the fancy bullshit. I’m hungry and I promised Ava I would pick her up some frappe, latte, coffee bullshit on the way back.” He starts to type on his phone, most likely texting Ava, since that’s the only person besides myself that will deal with his ass.
“Yeah, should be finished soon,” I tell him, letting my thoughts shift back to Emerson. Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I tell myself that I’ll win her heart, and prove to her we’re worth a shot. She’s scared, but I’m determined to shatter that fear. I’ll save her, protect her, support her the way everyone else in her life should’ve.
???
I feel like an idiot from some sappy romantic movie standing in the living room all alone holding onto the flowers I bought Emerson. I should throw them away before she comes out of her room and sees them. What if she doesn’t even like flowers? Running a hand through my hair, I exhale a nervous breath.
This is stupid. I have no reason to be nervous. It’s probably just this stupid tux I have to wear, the jacket feels like a straitjacket hindering my every move. I can barely fucking breathe. The better option would’ve been to tell my father to shove this charity dinner up his ass, but since it’s in honor of my mother, and to raise awareness for depression and anxiety I decided to bite my tongue. That doesn’t mean I can’t wait to be out of this monkey suit, and for the night to be over, where it’s just Emerson and me in the bed together.
Tightening my grip on the flowers, I will away the nervous butterflies filling my abdomen, but when the soft click of the door opening echoes down the hall and into the room, the butterflies multiply instead of leaving me. Fuck me.
I’m pretty sure I’m going to puke. Sweat beads against my forehead and I can’t imagine what I look like right now. Emerson steps into the hallway and starts walking toward me and every thought in my head disappears into thin air. The air stills in my lungs and I swear my heart actually skips a beat, forgetting how to beat in a normal rhythm.
What is up or down? What’s my name? I couldn’t even tell you. All I see is her.
I’m mesmerized like a moth drawn to a trickle of light I can’t look away. She’s wearing a floor-length pale purple gown, the fabric falling off her shoulders, showing off the delicate skin around her collarbone and neck. There’s a soft dusting of freckles across the skin that I want to press kisses to. She looks like an angel, so completely out of place in this mundane condo. Her red hair is soft and curled at the ends.
She’s, if perfection was a person, she would be it.
“Clark? Are you okay?” She breaks the silence, her voice bringing me back down to earth.
“Yeah, I… you… you look beautiful,” I say, because it’s the only words I can think of right now, even though I know that, that one singular word doesn’t do her justice. Gorgeous? Breathtaking? Devine? Not even all of those words combined would be enough.
“Thank you, you look nice too. Very handsome… and proper.” She giggles softly, the sound zinging straight to my cock.
Not now, asshole. There’s barely any room in this godforsaken thing for me to breathe let alone for the stupid organ to get hard. I notice Emerson’s eyes falling to something in my hands. I look down, my mind having gone blank and realize then that I’m still holding onto the flowers.
“Oh, shit, the flowers, right, these are for you,” I state the obvious, holding out the small bouquet to her. She takes it and brings the flowers to her nose, smelling the colorful arrangement.
“Thank you,” she whispers, peeking up at me through her lashes. “They’re beautiful.” I watch her put the flowers into the vase I had already set out on the table. With her back turned to me, I wipe my sweaty palms down the front of my slacks.
“Ready to go?” I ask her when she twists back around to face me again. She nods and gives me a warm smile as I usher her outside and into the car. Once I’m in the car and shut the door behind me, a wave of her flowery scent slams into me and for a moment I feel drugged, fighting the urge to lean over and kiss her. My mouth waters like I’ve been offered a juicy steak but haven’t eaten in thirty days. I’m starving, but I’ll gladly starve another thirty days if I have to. Later. I’ll have all the time in the world to kiss later. I can’t think about peeling that dress off of her body right now. Later. Starting the truck up, I grip the steering wheel tightly and pull out of the driveway. I’m trying not to be to tense, but it’s easier said than done.
