“Yeah,” Emma says, her voice weak again. I almost feel like I’m putting her in a trance, her eyes are tracing every single stroke of my fingers along her friend’s arm. “He’s a grad student,” she continues, telling her roommate about some boy who thought she was cute and asked her out on a date. I couldn’t care less. She says something about how he saved her, came to her rescue and got the projector working. She’s gushing over some guy who knew how to click a goddamned mouse, and she’s calling him her savior. The more she talks, the more I feel every scar on my body all at once—the burn marks, the stab wounds, the broken bones that never healed quite right—abuse I took so Emma Burke didn’t have to experience anything sad.
Something in me snaps.
I know it’s crossing the line when I do it, and I know that it’s going to start something that won’t end in spooning tonight. That’s why I came here, though…isn’t it? Emma keeps talking, but her eyes are constantly checking my hands. Every pass of my fingers over Lindsey’s shoulder and down her bicep moves closer to her breast, until finally, I let my thumb drag slowly along the curve of her tit, taking extra time when I feel the hard peak underneath her thin bra and shirt—and Lindsey, bless her fucking little heart, actually hums in pleasure.
“I’m seeing him tomorrow, so I’ll let you know…you know…if it’s something…” Emma cuts her story short, suddenly a lot less sure of herself. She sucks in her bottom lip as she flits her eyes to me quickly before looking down and then back up to her friend, who is now absolutely dying for me to touch her more.
That’s right, Emma. Nobody cares that you met a boy and he’s your fucking hero.
“Yeah, that’s awesome. I’m so excited for you,” Lindsey says, nothing about her focused on Emma. Lindsey is my puppet right now, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t hear anything past the part where Emma said she met someone. Everything after that was about my hand on her breast, and how fast my dick will be inside her next.
“Anyhow, I think I’ll turn in,” Emma says, faking a yawn. “That speech, it’s always hard, ya know…” I roll my eyes at her sad performance, then run my hand down Lindsey’s arm to find her fingers waiting to tug my hand and body to her bed.
“Yeah, us too,” Lindsey says at the feel of my grip. I follow her down the hall as we leave Emma alone in the kitchen behind us. I don’t care that she’s alone. I don’t care that she knows where I’m going, and I don’t care that she’s met some guy who wants to buy her coffee.
I don’t care about Emma Burke.
I step into Lindsey’s room, and she pauses at the doorway, hanging out of it to look down the hallway to her friend. That’s guilt she’s feeling. She needs to let that go.
“She’s okay,” I say, coming up behind her, breathing into her, reminding her. My fingers find her stomach, and I tug her shirt from her jeans and let my hand find her bare skin.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she says, part of her giving into me, but part of her still out there in the hallway. I can tell. I kiss her neck, moving my hand through her hair, wrapping it around my fingers. She sighs, letting her weight fall into me. I turn her to face me and lift her into my arms, my hands grabbing her ass as I walk us backward. We just need to get to her bed. She’ll forget everything there.
I’ll forget everything there.
“Goodnight.”
Lindsey’s door is still open; Emma pauses on the other side of the hall and speaks, her profile outlined by the faint light spilling from her room, which means she can see just as much of us. I knew the door was open; I wanted her to see. I timed that kiss just right. I hoped she’d walk by, but another piece of me wants to take that last kiss back.
Lindsey’s mouth tightens up and eventually falls away from mine.
“Goodnight,” she says back to her friend, her forehead sliding along my shoulder until her face is tucked against my chest.
Fuck, I’m an asshole.
“I’m sorry.”
Lindsey is apologizing to me. The irony.
“It’s fine…really,” I say, looking over her form as Emma’s door closes behind her. Emma never looks back again. She’s seen enough. Maybe I have, too.
“Something’s with her, tonight. I think it was the speech. I…I probably should have talked to her more, or maybe gone with her. Gah…I’m so sorry, I just feel bad now. You probably think I’m nuts.” Lindsey looks up at me with her mouth caught between an apology and a frown—waiting for me to tell her it’s okay. I pull her in against me for a hug, mostly because I can’t handle looking in her eyes anymore. I don’t like the reflection in them.