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After three minutes of combing through her loose curls, her body is still stiff. I don’t fucking like it.
“Okay, you need to tell me what the fuck is wrong, Emmy. I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me.”
“You can’t fix everything, Josh.”
“When it comes to you, I will fix everything. At least let me try.”
Emily turns around, crossing her arms over her chest, and my eyes are drawn to the cleavage she’s practically shoving in my face.
“Argh, why the hell do you have a closet full of women’s stuff?” she huffs out.
I laugh a little, trying to disguise it as a cough. “I have women’s shit in here because a woman lives here—with me.” I stab at my chest to signify myself.
“Who is she?” Emily stands up, looking around the closet like someone is going to pop out.
“Only the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. The smartest, bravest and most loyal person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Not to mention, her pussy is…”
“Stop, do not say any more unless you want to find yourself missing a beloved body part,” she seethes at me.
I get up and wrap my arms around her. She tries to fight me off so I tighten my grip.
“Emmy, that girl is you, babe. The woman who lives here with me is you. The one all these clothes are for… is you.”
“Me?”
“Not sure why you’re having a hard time comprehending that. Yes, you.”
“Where did all this stuff come from?”
“I had Ella help me out, while we were at the cabin.”
“You shouldn’t have done that, Josh. This must have cost you a fortune.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not really short on cash.”
“That’s not the point. If I want clothes, I can buy them myself.”
“Just a thank you would suffice, Emmy. I’m not having this argument with you. You needed shit. I got you shit. End of story.”
“Really. Well, you can take it back. I don’t need it.”
“I’m not taking it back. It’s yours. And we really need to be fucking quiet in here.”
“Fine, I’ll be as quiet as a damn mouse,” she spits out as she sits back on the floor in front of the bench seat.
I guess we’re back to braiding hair. Sitting behind her, I run the brush through her hair for a few minutes before it dawns on me that I have no fucking idea how to make a braid. I’m not going to admit that to her though. She wants her hair braided, so I’m going to figure out just how to do it. How hard can it be?
Putting the brush down, I pick up the strands of her hair and start twisting parts around each other. I’m sure I’ve seen girls do that. I get to the ends of her hair, and I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done, but it doesn’t look like a damn braid.
Letting the strands go, I run my fingers through her hair to separate the pieces. I slide my phone out of my pocket and pull up a YouTube tutorial on hair braiding. Emily is still quietly fuming as I watch the muted video. Twice.
Right, I’ve got this. Copying what the girl did in the video, I manage to get an end product that looks somewhat like a braid.
Emily reaches her hand around and runs her fingers down the braid. “Not bad. Not gonna lie, I didn’t actually think you could braid hair. Thank you.”
Well, thank fuck the silent treatment’s over. “I didn’t know until about five minutes ago when I watched a tutorial on YouTube.”
She stands up and turns around. “You watched a tutorial, just now? To learn how to braid hair? Why?”
