“I missed you, too.”
Something Quinton says sends the rest of the room into hysterical laughter, breaking our connection. Emma glances at her cell phone. “Wow, it’s late,” she says, unfolding her legs. “I need to get up early to run. I’d better get to bed.”
“Running the first day back? Dedicated.”
She smiles at me. “It only works if I’m ruthless about it.” She tells everyone goodnight as I get up to walk her to her door, and I take her hand as we leave the room.
“I’ve just never thought of you as the ruthless type. It’s kinda hot. In a scary sort of way.”
She unlocks her door and turns to me, pushing the lever down and allowing me to press her to the door and shuffle her backwards until the handle hits the wall with a light thump. Bracing a hand against the hard surface on either side of her face, I watch her breath quicken, her chest rise and fall. Her hands are behind her, palms flat to the door. I lean in, kissing her gently, my tongue tracing her lips, opening them to deepen the kiss, my hands moving to her waist.
She tears her mouth from mine, and we’re both breathing heavily. “Come back to my room,” I tell her. “I’ll go kick everyone out right now. They’ll be gone in five minutes.”
“Reid…” she says, and I feel as though we’re sparring, bargaining for position along an unseen border. She’s driving me crazy.
I back away, my hands up like she’s about to read me my rights and toss me in the back of a patrol car. “Stopping. I just… haven’t seen you in four days.”
Her brow creases. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to frustrate you, I promise.”
“I can’t help that I want you, you know. I just hope you’ll start trusting me at some point.” She’s outright frowning now, and I tell myself to cut it the hell out before I mess this up completely.
“Reid, what do you mean? I wouldn’t be with someone I didn’t trust.”
“Are we actually ‘with’ each other, though?”
Shit, I can’t even listen to good advice from myself.
A door opens down the hall—my room, from the sound of it. Guess the party is breaking up. Graham and Brooke come around the corner. His eyes sweep over us and Brooke arches an eyebrow at me as if to say she expected as much. “Goodnight, you two.” Her voice purrs with condescension. I fight to keep from responding.
They disappear into Graham’s room, and I know I have to let this go for tonight. “Just, you know, forget what I said—hell, I’ve already forgotten what I said. It’s been a long day. We have a hard week ahead of us. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I kiss her one more time, fight down the wave of wanting her, and turn to go back to my room.
I don’t know if I have any virtues, or the potential for any, but I know one thing. Patience sure as hell isn’t one of them.
*** *** ***
Emma
I slip into my room and let the door close, change out of my jeans and t-shirt and into an oversized t-shirt and boxers. I can’t forget what Reid said, just because he told me to. So, if we aren’t sleeping together, we aren’t a couple? Is that what he means?
His question feels too important, like a clue. He thinks I don’t trust him because I’m not ready to have sex. Maybe in some way, that’s true. Maybe I don’t trust him to want any more of me than that, and just sleeping with Reid Alexander isn’t good enough for me. Or maybe I don’t know what I want, and he’s suffering my indecision.
Unpacking as I brush my teeth, I force my thoughts elsewhere, wondering what’s going on two doors down in Graham’s room. I probably don’t want to know. A lifetime has passed since Graham and I sat on my balcony, eating chocolate cake and talking about parts of our lives that are long gone. Brooke and Reid have made their desires known concerning each of us, and Graham and I are playing along, even if I’m not capitulating as fully or as rapidly as Reid would like.
I rinse my mouth of toothpaste and stride across the room to the balcony, pull the door open and go outside into the warm darkness. He’s there on his balcony, alone, staring at the sky, and I exhale in relief without knowing why. The sight of him is comforting. The fact that he’s alone, almost as much so, though there’s no good reason for me to feel that way.
“Emma,” he says, turning. I half expect to see a cigarette in his hand, but he stands with his hands hooked in the pockets of his jeans. “Are you okay?” he asks, concern in his voice.
“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine.” And I’m trying in vain to come up with any explanation for why I rushed onto my balcony to spy on him. Like it’s my business if a twenty-year-old single guy, who doesn’t at all belong to me, hooks up with a beautiful girl. “Er, I was just getting some air.” Wow. Lame.
“Oh-kay,” he says, unconvinced.
“Well. I’ve gotten some. Air, that is. So I guess I’ll go in now.”
I spin around to escape back inside, feeling like an idiot. “Emma?”
I attempt to compose my expression as I turn back. “Yes?”
“We’re… running in the morning, right?”
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
“Six o’clock, then?” he asks, and I nod. We both stand there for a moment, the silence lengthening and feeling significant, until his cell rings from inside his room. “See you in the morning,” he says, going inside. I hear him say, “Hello?” before he shuts the balcony door.