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Emily
“Emmy, babe, wake up.” Josh is kissing me all over my face. I slap a hand out to stop him. When I try to roll over to avoid him, he jumps on top of me, straddling my thighs.
“Why? I just want to sleep,” I complain, slowly opening my eyes.
“I have a surprise,” he says excitedly.
“That’s nice. I hope you enjoy it.”
“The surprise is for you, Emmy. Wake up.” His fingers find my waist and start circling underneath my shirt.
I’m instantly awake. My eyes spring open. My hands land on his forearms, attempting to stop his movements.
“Okay, okay, I’m awake. Stop, please. I’ll wake up.” I laugh as my body thrashes under his attack.
“You’ll wake up?” he asks.
“Yes, I’m awake.” My hands are still on his forearms. As they roam up and down, it occurs to me that they are the definition of arm porn. Strong, muscled, tattooed arms. Arms that I feel the safest in, the most cherished in.
“You have nice arms,” I blurt out. Josh laughs.
“Yeah? You like my arms? What else do you like?” he asks, lifting his shirt a little and showing off his abs, his very well-defined abs.
My eyes travel from the top of his jeans up to his chest. He’s fully dressed. Where is he going?
“Why do you look so nice? Are you going somewhere?”
“Thank you. And yes, I am going somewhere. With you. We are going somewhere. Just as soon as you get up.”
“Okay, but where are we going?” I ask. “Also, you need to get off me if you want me to get up.”
“I really fucking like being on top of you. But we do need to get going. I left a dress for you in the bathroom,” Josh says as he stands.
My body freezes. He left a dress for me in the bathroom? This is how it starts; he’s going to control me just like Trent did. Why did I think he would be any different? The only difference is it hurts so much more, because it’s Josh. I’ve built him up so much, put him on a pedestal so high, I can’t even reach it.
But when it comes down to it, they’re all the same. Men just want to control me, hurt me. I’m looking at the door and calculating if I can make it there before he catches me. I can’t, so my eyes search the room for anything that I can use to defend myself, or cushion the blow.
“Babe, did you hear what I said?” Josh’s voice breaks through my internal hell.
I should have been listening. What’s he going to do when he finds out I wasn’t paying attention? I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all.
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he walks back towards me.
“Uh, nothing. I’ll get dressed. Thank you.” My voice is robotic, monotone, just how Trent used to prefer me to answer.
“Something’s wrong. Whatever is going through that pretty little head, forget it. You are safe here, Emmy. If you have something to say, then say it. I want you to say what’s on your mind. I want to be the one you tell your secrets to, the one you share your fears with, your happy thoughts with. I want them all. I’m selfish like that.” He winks before pulling my stiff body into his arms.
“I… what if I don’t like the dress? Will you be mad?” I whisper.
Josh pulls his head back and tilts my chin up. I flinch away from his touch. I see his jaw clench, his eyes narrow, and he takes a deep breath. I wait for it, for his anger over my question.
When his eyes open, all I see in them is love, patience and understanding. “Emmy, if you don’t like the dress, throw it out. I don’t care what you wear. You wear whatever you want. I didn’t pick the dress to take away your choice. Ella left it at the door this morning and said to give it to you. I just moved it to the bathroom. That’s all.”
I feel so stupid. Why do I always think the worst? Why do my thoughts always put Josh in the same category as Trent? He has never done anything to deserve my doubt.
Well, maybe all the shit he did in high school… But we all do stupid shit when we’re young.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know… I’m sorry,” I tell him. I don’t even know how to explain what was going through my mind.
