Without a Doubt (29 page)

“Let's go to Smitty's. You haven't been yet and Emerson almost always takes Glen when he goes. I need a BBQ sandwich.”

She nods in agreement and off we go. We're pretty much in our own world as we enter the busy restaurant and take a seat. After we order, I decide to ask the question I've wanted to know the answer to and which Catherine always avoids. First, I need to build up to it.

“How are you and Parker?”

Catherine smiles so widely, I know I did right by texting him for her. “Great. Thank you for giving me the push. We discussed a few things, I told him about my crazy fear, and he said he was going to be more sneaky about getting me to commit.” She laughs. “He told me he was willing to stick by my side even if he had to run next to me when I tried to run away. How sweet is that?”

“Very sweet,” I agree. “So, does he know why you freak out?” The waitress drops our food off as Catherine nods. “Then why don't I know? I've been your best friend for three years, Cath. He's been your boyfriend for a short fraction of that amount of time.”

She avoids looking at me as she takes her first bite. “Well, I had to tell him to keep him. I almost feel like if I tell you, it'll jinx everything.” My eyebrows pull together in confusion. “You're the only person I've ever gotten close to who hasn't left me. Everyone else has, so I felt like if I told you I'm always the person people leave behind, then you'd be the next to do it. Commitment scares the hell out of me because it has meant so little to so many people in my life.”

Aw. I want to hug her, so I stand, squeeze myself between her and the table as I sit sideways in her lap, wrapping my arms around her shoulders.

“People are staring,” she laughs.

“I don't care. You need a hug. Hug me back,” I demand, making her laugh again. She wraps her arms around me tightly. “You're my best friend
forever
, Catherine. Even after college, no matter where we end up, we're going to have weekly phone calls at the very least. We'll be at each other weddings, be the godmothers to our kids, and take yearly girls' trips. I promise.”

“Thanks, Eva. Now can you please get up? You have a bony butt and it hurts.”

“I do not have a bony butt!”

“It's either that or you weigh too much. Pick your poison.”

I narrow my eyes at her before returning to my seat. “I can't believe you said that to me.”

She grins. “Truth hurts, Eva. You look fabulous either way, so it doesn't matter.”

I jump when someone's hands land on my shoulders and said person kisses my cheek. “You do look pretty great,” he whispers in my ear. The moment I hear his voice, I relax.

I look over my shoulder to see Emerson grinning at me. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Then I notice Glen standing next to him.

“We were hungry,” he says simply. “I saw you and wanted to say hey before we leave.” He pauses and then adds with a grin, “Hey.”

I was seriously worried about there being permanent damage to our relationship because of my past with Luke, especially after the jackass decided to come over. But there isn't any, thankfully. Emerson is the same as always and he's happy. I'm happy.

“Hey. Did you two enjoy your date?”

Catherine laughs as the boys both give me a matching stern look, making us laugh a little harder.

“That's our cue to go, Emerson,” Glen says.

This time, Emerson kisses me on the lips before they say goodbye and head out. Catherine brings my attention back to her when she tells me, “You two are disgustingly cute together.”

I grin. “Thanks.” She rolls her eyes and I add, “You're disgustingly cute with Parker, too.”

Now, her smile is shy. “Thanks,” she says softly. “I'm trying and he's doing a good job of convincing me,” she tells me. Just like that, we pick up our conversation where we left off before the guys interrupted us.

“You know what you told me when I was wondering if I should go on another date with Emerson?” I don't give her a chance to reply. “You told me to see what happens. That's what you need to remind yourself to do with Parker. Maybe that'll help.”

“Maybe,” she agrees.

It feels so good to hang out with her. We live together, but when we're both in our own world, studying or dealing with boyfriend stuff, it's not the same as us hanging out and spending time together. After we eat, Catherine decides we need to have more than just that. She drags me to a bar. We drive back to campus and call a cab, so we both don't have to worry about driving home.

“This is a bad idea,” I try as we take our seats on a high-rise table. “You know how I am drunk.”

“Then don't get drunk.”

I give her a pointed look. “I'm a lightweight. One drink and I'm practically there.”

She rolls her eyes and then frowns. “When did you stop being fun?”

“When I realized the last time I was drunk, I slept with my boyfriend's brother!” I reply a little too loudly.

“Then call Emerson. I'll call Parker.”

“I thought this was a girls' night?” I ask, but she only shrugs, already texting Parker. I hesitate over texting Emerson. He was with Glen, so he could still be out, and he might not want me to intrude. Plus, I don't want him to think about how I was when I slept with Luke. Catherine must be reading my mind or something because she plucks my phone from her hand and begins texting Emerson, I assume.

After a moment, she says, “There. He's coming, so is Glen and a few of their friends apparently.”

Catherine may like to stay in and read books most of the time, but she likes to drink every now and then as well. Fortunately for her, she can hold her liquor. Whenever we go out, she's always in charge of ordering the drinks, both a good and a bad thing. She starts us off with two shots of Patrón and two shots of lemon drops each. Because you can't have just one.

By the time Emerson arrives with his friends, I'm most definitely tipsy at the very least. Glen groans as I throw my arms around Emerson's neck and smack a loud kiss on his cheek.

“Catherine, what I have told you about having Eva as a drinking buddy?” Glen shakes his head.

“Not to make her my drinking buddy, but no one else was here.” She shrugs and leans into Parker, who arrived a few minutes earlier.

“I really like him,” I whisper loudly to Emerson, who looks like he's trying to figure me out.

“Who?” he asks with a touch of suspicion.

“Parker. He's good for her. I missed you.”

“Drink, Eva,” Catherine says, pushing another shot over to me.

I lift it to my lips as Emerson says, “Hasn't she had enough for tonight?”

“We made a bet and I lost,” I explain. “She said I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you when you showed up. I had to wait five minutes, I think, but I forgot when I saw you.” I shrug, resting my head on his shoulder.

Conversation picks up as the guys start talking about some game being shown on the TVs hung around the bar. I watch them interact with one another. Catherine and Parker are in their own world, but every now and then, something one of the guys will say drags him into the conversation. Emerson laughs, but not as much as he seems to do when he's with me.

I must be funnier.

Emerson has his hand on my lower back, his thumb occasionally moving back and forth. Such an innocent touch and he's probably not even paying attention to me, but it's turning me on. I slip my hand underneath his shirt and splay it over his stomach, which tenses immediately.

His head dips as he whispers, “What are you doing, Eva?”

I don't answer right away. My fingers trail a path up his chest and then back down, tracing an imaginary line right over the top of his jeans. He grabs my hand and removes it from underneath his shirt.

Before he can chastise me, which I'm sure he is about to do, I manage to whisper, “Is Sweet Irene a virgin?” God, I want him so much. I use my free hand to reach around and squeeze his butt. His eyes widen, nearly popping out of his head, and I start giggling uncontrollably. “Let's pop her cherry, Emerson. Please? Pretty please with a popped cherry on top?” My laughter draws the attention of those at our table.

“Okay, we're leaving.”

“Yes!”

“You need to pay for your drinks, Eva,” Catherine interjects.

“Oh, right.” I search through my purse, accidentally knocking it off the table in the process. “Damn it. Sorry.” Emerson picks it up for me, as well as the few things that fell out. “Thank you,” I mumble.

“I'll do it,” he says softly, like he needs to coax me or something. He calls the waitress over for the bill, shakes his head at what I managed to rack up before he could get here, and slips my card into the slot. By the time we're about ready to leave, I don't feel so good. My neck and head are burning up, so hot I wouldn't be surprised if I'm sweating, and my stomach feels funny. “You okay?” Emerson's face is suddenly in front of me and he looks concerned. It's so sweet.

I nod, even though I don't feel okay. He wraps an arm around my waist, holds onto my purse which makes me want to say a very long “aw,” and we walk outside.

“We took a cab,” I tell him.

“I know.”

“How?”

“Catherine told me a second ago.”

“Oh.” I should pay more attention. Emerson unlocks his truck and opens the door for me, tossing my purse inside with no concern over what may be inside. I glance at the seat I'm supposed to sit in. Did his truck get taller? It seems tall. I hear Emerson chuckle before his hands find my waist and he lifts me into the truck. Suddenly, I'm dizzy. Before I can warn him and as he's about to step away, I throw up. On Emerson. He glances down at himself, while I cover my mouth, absolutely horrified. “Oh my God. You're going to break up with me now, aren't you? I'm so sorry.”

He doesn't answer me. He simply sighs before closing my door, walking around, and getting into his truck. I apologize over and over. How many times can I embarrass myself in front of him? From running into his truck to blurting out I'm on my period to shoving him off to the bed to throwing up on him. When will it end?

“Eva, stop,” he interrupts as he parks at his apartment complex. “It's fine.”

It isn't. “But I took you away from hanging out with your friends and now you're taking care of me while I thank you by throwing up on you.”

Emerson gets out of the truck and comes over to me. He helps me down, looking at me for a moment before saying, “I don't mind taking care of you. I rather be the one who takes care of you than someone else.” He interlocks our hands, grabs my purse for me, and leads us inside. He deposits me on the couch. “I'm going to change and take a shower.” He kisses my temple and then he's gone.

After a minute or so, I stand. Vomiting has pretty much pushed sex out of my mind and now, I'm tired. I slip into the bathroom to brush my teeth and then stumble into the bedroom. I frown as I realize I don't have any clothes to wear. Oh well. I strip out of my clothes until I'm down to my panties. I crawl into bed, snuggling underneath the sheets and my comforter. I can't quite get warm enough to fall asleep though, so I steal Emerson's comforter too.

“Who's the cover hog now?”

“I was almost asleep,” I whine, opening my eyes to see him in bed, tugging on his comforter. “I was cold.”

“Why are you co—” He stops as his hands find my body underneath the sheets. “You're naked?”

“I didn't have any clothes to wear,” I reply, not bothering to correct him that I'm not completely naked.

I hear him swallow hard. “Want something of mine to wear?”

“You can keep me warm as long as you promise not to steal my comforter.”

He groans. “How is it that you threw up on me not even an hour ago and somehow, I still want to have sex with you?”

I laugh. “You and your way with words. Are you going to cuddle with me or let me freeze to death and not get any sleep?”

He laughs, sitting up and removing his shirt. “Sit up.” I do and he slips his shirt over me before lying back down. “Okay, come on.”

I stare at him. “There's still the same amount of clothing between us. What was the point?”

“One, so you wouldn't be quite so cold and two, because I don't need to feel your bare skin if you're trying to fall asleep.” It's like a thought hits him and he adds, “Is there a chance you'll get sick again?”

“Don't think so. I don't usually vomit either though.”

He pulls me against him. “Let's hope you're done then.”

“Thanks for tonight, Emerson.”

“You're welcome. And FYI, I want to ban you from alcohol. You two don't seem like a good mix.”

I wonder if he's talking about tonight, my history, or both. “Agreed. Now shut up so I can sleep.”

He chuckles, kisses my temple, and I get closer to falling asleep as I take deep breaths, inhaling his fresh, clean scent. This apartment, this bedroom, this bed, in his arms is my favorite place to be. At first, I thought his place was bare and didn't show much about himself, but I think it really does. He himself is a fairly simple guy, but he's thoughtful and considerate as showcased by the extra comforter and the toothbrush he bought me. He may not have any photos of us hanging up, but my presence is scattered throughout the rooms. He doesn't put away my things when I'm not here. He leaves them out, as if he's keeping pieces of me here when I'm not.

Emerson warms me up as I get drowsier by the moment. I love his apartment. I love being here with him.

“I want to move in,” I absentmindedly breathe the thought in my head, falling asleep as the last word leaves my mouth.