“We don’t have to wait any longer,” he replies, turning his face to lay a kiss against my palm. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I don’t want to,” I whisper, letting my sex rub ever-so-lightly against his stiff cock.
The feel of him pressing hard against me brings a sudden, untempered cry to my lips. I just can’t help myself as I feel the staggering bulk of him brush against my aching clit, even through layers of clothing. The second my moan escapes into the air, my eyes go wide. I clasp my hands over my mouth, but it’s too late. Riley’s bedroom door flies open, and I scramble off of Emerson’s lap as she appears in the doorway in full action mode. I’m surprised she isn’t carrying a frying pan or something.
“Are you OK?” she demands, taking in the scene.
“Oh, sure!” I laugh dementedly, leaping off of the couch. “We’re fine! Sorry!”
My best friend sees Emerson’s flabbergasted, frustrated expression, not to mention the tousled state of my hair and clothes, and puts two and two together. Her game face is replaced by a knowing grin.
“I thought I heard you scream,” she says, feigning innocence. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, or—”
“It’s OK,” I insist, shooting her a look that says, Please shut the fuck up, dude.
“Is that Emerson Sawyer I see sitting on our couch?” she goes on, crossing her arms with an amused smile on her lips.
“That it is,” Emerson says, grinning gamely back at her as he stands. He’s rolling with the interruption, just like that night when our post-Dr. Zhivago make-out session was interrupted by our parents—and the announcement of their doomed engagement. He’s always been quick on his feet, my Emerson.
My Emerson? I ask myself, What’s this about my Emerson, Abby?
“Man, it’s been forever!” Riley exclaims, “You look great, man.”
“Thanks. You too,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. The flush fades from his chiseled face. Good. At least one of us is composed. I probably look like a deer caught in the headlights. Who also happens to be in heat.
“Abby, did you offer our guest a drink?” Riley asks.
“Oh. No,” I mumble bashfully, “I didn’t. Emerson?”
“Sure, if you guys are having something,” he says.
“Vodka tonics good for everyone?” Riley asks, making her way over to our home bar.
“Make mine a double,” I mutter, trading glances with Emerson. He strides my way and leans close.
“Later,” he whispers in my ear, “Just you wait.”
“Are you trying to make me faint or something, Sawyer?” I whisper back.
“Not just yet,” he winks, and goes to join Riley at the bar.
“Here we go,” she says, passing out the three cocktails and raising her glass. “To old friends, all grown up and kicking ass.”
“I’ll drink to that!” Emerson laughs.
“Hell yeah,” I smile, clinking my glass to theirs.
“And to your birthday, of course!” Riley adds.
“Of course. Happy birthday, Abby,” Emerson says warmly, taking a sip of his drink.
My body may still be reeling with having had a moment of contact with Emerson, but the mere knowledge that things between us are back on track is enough to keep me giddy. Besides, I’m here with my best friend and long-lost lover...who I’ve been carrying a torch for almost the entire past decade, despite our asshole parents’ one-day marriage.
Happy birthday to me, indeed.
The three of us settle down in the living room, Riley and Emerson catching each other up on their lives and careers. I can’t help but be wildly proud of these two. Neither one of them had any idea what they wanted to do with their futures as high school seniors, but now that they’ve followed their passions, they’ve made incredible lives for themselves. Hell, if anyone’s slacking on the whole Bright Shiny Future thing, it’s me. But maybe now that I’ve got my job at Bastian, things will start to take off for me, too. At least, I hope that’s the case.
“I don’t suppose you keep in touch with anyone from high school, Emerson?” Riley asks, whipping us up a second round.
“No one except Courtney Haines,” I tease, nudging him. We’re cozied up on the couch next to each other, casual as can be. Amazing how comfortable it is to be near him.
“I don’t keep in touch with Courtney Haines,” Emerson laughs, nudging me back, “Or anyone, for that matter. I consider myself a bit of a hometown expat.”
“That make three of us,” Riley replies, furnishing us with fresh cocktails.
“In fact, if I hadn’t run into you two again, I doubt I’d ever have run into a familiar face from those glory days,” Emerson goes on.
“Not even family?” Riley asks without thinking.
I shoot her a look, and she realizes her mistake at once, but it’s too late now.
“Well, Mom’s still more or less living in the rehab revolving door,” Emerson says, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “And my dad...He actually passed away, a few years after I left Connecticut with my mom.”
This is news to me, and I can’t help but wrap my arm supportively around Emerson’s back. As if he needed any more pain to carry around on those broad shoulders of his.
“I’m so sorry,” I murmur, “I know how hard that is, Emerson.”
“I actually thought about calling you, when it happened,” he laughs shortly, “I knew you’d gone through the same thing. Couldn’t think of anyone else I’d want to talk to more.”
“You could have, you know,” I say softly.
“Well,” Emerson sighs, shaking off the sadness of his father’s passing, “You’re here now, right? Guess we’ve just got some more catching up to do. All of us.”
We all return to our drinks as the conversation resumes. I haven’t eaten a ton today, so my drinks are really doing a number on me already. Just as I start wondering whether we should order a huge pizza to soak up some of this vodka, I remember what tonight actually has in store for me.
“Shit. What time is it?” I exclaim, standing up suddenly from the couch.
“Just about seven,” Emerson says, glancing at his watch. “Why, what—?”
“Oh god,” Riley groans, looking up at me, “Your grandparents.”
“I’m not dressed. I don’t have time. They’re going to be here any second,” I cry, setting down my empty martini glass and setting off toward my bedroom to get changed. But the second I spin around on my heel, I hear the buzzer ring out.