We kiss with the vigor of two people who’ve been waiting for this exact moment for hours. All of that stored desire comes spilling out in one very hot make-out session over the console of his car. His lips are merciless and demanding, devouring my mouth and barely leaving me without enough air to breathe. Oh well, I don’t need to breathe. I just need him.
His hands roam down to my breasts, but when I reach for the bulge at the front of his jeans, he grabs my wrist.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He growls against my mouth.
“I think it’s a great idea.”
“You want me to fuck you in the front seat of this car, in front of people passing by, so we both get sent to jail? Because if you touch it, that’s exactly where this is going.”
“Worth it,” I mumble, reaching again.
“Behave, Charlotte.” The use of my other name makes me instantly obey. Like ringing a bell, he can just tame me with one word and a little change in the inflection of his voice. And just like that, I’m his submissive.
Pulling away with a pout, I lean back in my seat. “You know, we really don’t have to go to movie night.”
“I know.”
“Then, why are we doing it?”
He reaches across the console and squeezes my thigh with his hand. “Because I like seeing you around your family, and I like your family.”
As he starts to drive away, I want to tell him that he’s just making everything worse. We’re supposed to be keeping this a secret, and we should be accepting that this will never work. It was just supposed to be sex.
When we reach my house, I tense in anticipation for the moment when he walks inside. I love our house, but it’s our family house. It’s a little bit chaotic on a normal day, but now there are three very excited teenage girls in it, and this is just not Emerson’s speed.
We meet my mom in the kitchen, who is busy making popcorn and snacks while the girls pile into the living room, picking out a movie. They agree on the Japanese animation, Spirited Away, honestly one of my favorites, but will Emerson appreciate it? I can’t seem to relax because I’m too busy worrying about if he notices the dirty dishes in the sink from breakfast or the pile of laundry still stacked on the stairs, waiting for Sophie to put it away. And my mom’s cockapoo won’t stop jumping on his leg, sniffing his jeans, and I just want to take him out of this place.
Then, I look at his face. And he’s smiling again. Relaxed and laughing with my mom, while she tells him some of her favorite ER stories, the funny ones, of course.
And suddenly, nothing makes sense to me.
All of Emerson’s praise, the way he tells me I’m so perfect and flawless and good…it was just him playing the part. None of it was real. And if it was, how does he feel about my real life now? None of this is perfect or flawless. It’s a mess. And normally I’m okay with that, but I can’t be Charlotte and Charlie to him. He was never supposed to see any of this, so why isn’t he running for the hills? How can I possibly go back to being Charlotte on Monday, when he knows what the real me is like?
After the snacks are made and the movie is cued up, the girls sit on the floor and my mom takes the recliner, leaving the couch for Emerson and me. He sits on the end, crossing his legs with one ankle on the opposite knee as he leans on the arm rest. He’s too hot to be in my living room. Way too fucking hot.
As we watch the movie, he seems genuinely enthralled, but I catch his gaze on me from time to time, as if I’m more interesting than the movie. At one point, he rests his arm along the back of the sofa, and I find myself leaning against him until we are actually cuddling with my mother only a couple feet away.
Like always, she’s asleep fifteen minutes in anyway. And once the credits roll at the end, the girls take off to Sophie’s room. Emerson turns his head toward me in the dimly lit room. I look back at him, and it’s so quiet and such an intimate moment, it feels almost surreal.
He leans forward and presses his lips to my forehead.
Again, I hate him so much. Why is he doing this to me?
As he pulls away, he whispers, “Want to show me your room?”
A small laugh escapes my lips. He’s joking. Except, he looks like he’s actually waiting for an answer.
“Why don’t we go back to your place? I can stay the night.”
He strokes my cheek. “I want to see your place.”
“But it’s a tiny pool hou—”
His finger presses over my lips. “Show me.”