After All(56)

I just smile at him through chocolate chip teeth. There. That'll teach him not to kiss me.

"Sorry, if you're trying to make yourself look less attractive, it's not working," he says matter-of-factly. "Not only do I like things messy, but now I know you taste like chocolate."

I flip him the bird and go back to staring out the window.

When we finally get to the yacht club, I'm starting to feel more relaxed even though I know the cookie probably hasn't kicked in yet. I just hope that Carla was telling the truth about the cookie not being strong, because it also didn't have the walnuts that she promised.

"Have you ever been sailing before?" Emmett asks me as we climb on board the sailboat.

"Now you ask me?"

"Well I figured you had, considering it looks like you used to captain a ship in the Caribbean, but still I thought I'd ask."

"Yes, a few times. But don't ask me to do anything complicated."

He nods as he unlocks the door to the cabin and slides the glass back on the top. "So it's true then that blondes can't handle complicated tasks."

"Fuck off," I tell him. "And you were practically blonde when you were on Degrassi."

"Practically but not quite," he says as he heads down the stairs into the cabin. "And you can attest now that the carpet wouldn't have matched the drapes anyway."

I give him an evil grin. "I don't know, it's hard to tell when it's all grey."

He gives me a sharp look.

Now that got him good. How fucking vain. Of course, Emmett's body hair is light brown and well-groomed without a speck of grey hair to be seen but it gets under his skin anyway.

"You watch yourself," he says, shaking his finger at me. "You're more feisty today than you oughta be."

It's true. And as the day goes on it only gets worse.

As do my giggles.

At first I couldn't figure out why everything Emmett was doing was making me laugh.

Then I remembered the cookie.

"All right Miss Giggle Pants," he says to me as we cruise around the bay. He's leaning back on his seat with a beer in his hand and letting autopilot steer the boat, the front sail taut under the breeze which makes the boat heel slightly to the side. "How are you liking sailing so far?"

"It's not so bad," I admit with a grin that won't leave my face. I'm sitting on the opposite side of him, trying to keep upright. "I like how the city looks from here."

He nods and seems to relax visibly as I say that. "Distant. No one can touch you out here."

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," I begin, "but I think I might have been a bit unfair to you when we first met."

"When we first met, or like five minutes ago?"

"I'm being serious."

"Which is strange, since you were just having a laughing fit."

"Emmett."

"Alyssa."

"Look … " I go on. "I guess I just thought you were a spoiled celebrity. Like I assume they all are. Complaining about the hardships of the life when there's so much given in return. But … I get where you're coming from. I've seen it firsthand. I have the same feeling out here that you have. Freedom. Freedom to be yourself, to think your own thoughts, to not worry. And while I know that people will tell you not to care what other people think, the truth is you've been doing that. And you've been punished for it."

I don't know if I'm on the right track with all the shit I'm babbling or if it's hitting home for him because he's not saying anything, but I continue. "I like my privacy. I like being able to be myself. And on a lesser scale, I'm judged for it too. Let's ignore the fact that I've been your girlfriend for two weeks now and that people are talking about me and there are pictures and all that, because that shit is weird. But I mean like, in the life I was living before I met you, I was still judged. I have sisters you know, and they are all married and they all have kids and they all have that life they've always wanted. Even if that life isn't perfect, it's the life society expects them to have. Then there's me, who is in a dead-end job, perpetually single, who likes sex, who isn't skinny. Those things alone represent me right now and those things are harshly judged all the time."


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Man. I can't tell if I'm droning on and being philosophical because I'm high or not. I better stop talking. Emmett might get suspicious.

But after a few beats he says, "Go on."

Did it sound like I was supposed to continue?

High. You're so high.