Razorblade Kisses(84)

“We don’t have time for that right now, Em, but I plan on making you smile and come many times tonight.” His eyes showed determination. “You may want to order coffee.”

She couldn’t take her eyes off his fingers as they played with the hem of her skirt. “Can we skip the Waffle House?” she asked, out of breath. His dirty mouth was so foreign to her, but she loved it.

“Nope, it’s necessary. Need to fuel up.”

“Oh shit,” she murmured.

“Oh yeah, you’re going to be calling me all sorts of names later. That’s a promise.” He winked.

She unconsciously closed her legs, trapping his hand. His laughter filled the truck and her face hurt from her smile, the same one she’d been wearing since the second his arms wrapped around her tonight.





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Pretending



To: Rachel Helms

From: Romona Hicks

I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’ve had orgasms that blew my mind. Like, seriously. Also, I’ve been to Waffle House and to a country music concert. The invasion of the body snatchers.


To: Romona Hicks

From: Rachel Helms

Orgasms and Waffle House are good for the soul. You need more of those two things.



A few weeks later, Emma was drafting a report in a case where a kid had missed over forty days of school and the parents were arrested for truancy. The kid hadn’t been taken from the family, but she had to monitor attendance and observe the home. She couldn’t focus. The report was taking forever. She’d just buckled down and began drafting the plan for the family when her phone vibrated on her desk and she smiled.

Let me take you somewhere

She and Tim had been texting regularly and getting together as much as they could, but because of their schedules didn’t have time to see each other on a consistent basis.

Where

His immediate response surprised her.

To meet someone

Who

Fuck you ask a lot of questions

I’m not going to just go off with some random guy somewhere I don’t know

Um I’m not random

Yeah…you are

This hurts me

She laughed out loud at his last message. She put her phone back on her desk and resumed the monotonous task of filling out paperwork. A few minutes later it vibrated again.

Seriously, this weekend is the first weekend I’ve had off in a month. We need fuel and then I’m going to stay inside you for the entire weekend.

Emery smiled and a rush of anticipation filled her body. Where did that come from?

Okay, this person is not invited into the last part, right?

She stared at the phone for a few minutes.

Really…did you really think I would allow anyone else to see what I have? What I can’t wait to undress? I want you to scream my name so that only I hear. When your voice gets hoarse from moaning and yelling at me, it’s like I’ve done my job.

Her entire face colored in embarrassment. She did yell his name on a regular basis and now she knew he liked it. Emery had to get the texts back on track.

And the person is…

His text came at the same time she sent hers.

Good food

Emery furiously tapped her answer on her phone and pressed send.

You sold me at food and screaming

I knew I’d get a sext from you one day. Saturday 5:00

She smiled, knowing he was smiling. Puzzled at the early dinner time, though, she replied.

What are we, 60?

He replied.

We aren’t



The week flew by and Emery spent the entire day Saturday reading a love story about unthinkable hope and a happy ending she didn’t see coming. The story made her cry and long for a happy ending that she knew all too well wouldn’t be there. She’d changed clothes three times (ending up with a long-sleeved black wrap dress and wedges) and took a minute to look at the girl in the mirror with the wavy blond hair. She looked more like she did when she was in high school than she had in years.

Her journal lay open to the page she wrote today.


I

Noah,

I’ve had a rough week. I go through phases where my pretending to be okay actually convinces my brain that I am, in fact, okay. I’m not there this week—I’m where I remember everything. I remember his smell, his rough fingers, his demands that I comply with his requests. I want to forget the way the bed dipped with his weight. I want to forget the feel of his stubble on my neck as he did what he wanted to with me. I want to forget all the times I fell apart, all the times I was frozen by fear. I wish I was someone else. I wish I could pick the memories I want to remember. I would choose memories of you, my sister, and my dad. I wish I wasn’t so alone. I wish I could have the happy ending.

E

The buzz at the intercom shook her out of her fog and she closed the journal quickly, then opened the door to her apartment, locked it behind her, and made sure to pretend she was okay. Fake smile in place, she opened the main door and met Tim on the front porch.