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Emmaleigh is wearing an off the shoulder white top that hangs down to her jeans on one side and stops just above her belly button on the other. The lacey white strap of her bra is showing, and I can’t keep my eyes from the exposed skin around her navel. A twinkling of light catches my eye, and as she moves and the top rides up a little more, I catch sight of a silver belly button bar. I have to bite my lip to hold back the groan.
Fuck, this girl looks perfect. Don’t even get me started on the way her top falls off one shoulder exposing very generous cleavage. If my cock gets any harder, it will pop the zipper on my jeans and free himself.
“Hey,” Emmaleigh mutters, a shy smile spreading across her lips causing a little dimple to appear on her right cheek as she pulls her T-shirt down, trying to cover up the exposed skin. Fuck, that’s so adorable. Did I notice that last time? “Do you want to come in?”
I realise I’m just standing there in the doorway to her flat, staring at her while she looks around nervously waiting for me to end the awkward silence. “Oh… yeah. Erm, sorry. I-I would love to,” I mutter, sounding like a complete nervous wreck. So much for all the relaxing breathing bollocks. I did all their breathing exercises and I sure as shit don’t feel any calmer.
Opening the door wider, she leads me into her apartment. There’s a corridor that leads from the main front door, round a small bend to the right and then straight down into a large open plan kitchen and living area. As I’m walking through the short corridor, I take in the bright white walls that are lined with family photos, and the entire wall of bookshelves that are full of a wide array of books. There’s a door to the left that Em tells me is the bathroom, and the first door on the right is the master bedroom and en-suite, and the second is the spare bedroom.
As she leads me through her flat, I’m pleasantly surprised by how big the place is. From the outside it doesn’t look anywhere near this size, but it’s quite spacious, and the clean magnolia walls make the rooms look larger. The living room has a dining table in one corner, with some flowers sitting in the middle, and there’s a three-seater black leather sofa taking up one wall and a smaller two-seater against the opposite wall. It’s actually an exquisite home, and I’m impressed Emmaleigh has been able to do all this on her own at such a young age.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Em jokes as she spreads her arm out and spins around dramatically, as if she’s unveiling the place for the first time.
I drop my bag onto the floor beside her dining table before shooting her a smile. “It’s lovely. You have a really great place here.”
I watch as a blush spreads over her cheeks, and I can tell this girl isn’t used to compliments. Which is actually unbelievably sad. What is so wrong with the male population? A girl this beautiful should be used to receiving compliments. I bet if I were to ask her she’s received more dick pics than she has flattering remarks.
“Thanks. I like it. Please, make yourself comfortable and I will get you a drink. Do you want a cider or just a soft drink?” she asks as she heads towards the connected kitchen on the left.
I freeze, my mind going over all the different scenarios, trying to think of what the correct answer to this question should be. I know it sounds like an easy question, but it’s not. If I have cider, that’s me admitting that I plan on spending the night here. I live just over thirty minutes drive from here, and I never drive after I’ve had even the slightest bit of alcohol. The roads are windy and dark, and I’m not risking it. So, if I take the cider, I can’t drive, and I would have to stay here.
Who would have thought a question as simple as what do I want to drink could turn into a complex mathematical equation. I need to stop overthinking this. We’ve already agreed to friends-with-benefits, and let’s be honest, if it’s shit, I can walk away. And even if it’s mind-blowingly amazing, then we can just keep on doing it with no ties.
“I will take a cider, please. How have you been?” I ask, finally finding my voice as I move towards the sofa. I try my best to analyse whether or not she has a preferred side, as I know most people do, and there’s nothing worse than someone coming and plopping themselves down and ruining the careful balance your ass has created.
As Emmaleigh gets a cider out of the fridge, I can see her watching me out of the corner of her eye, the slightest hint of a smile on her face as she sees my inner turmoil. She waits a good few, painful seconds before indicating that I can sit on the left hand side, as she usually takes the right.
Once we’re both settled on opposite ends of the sofa, and I’ve taken a much needed swig of cider in the hope the alcohol will help to calm down my nervous brain, she breaks the awkward silence. “Welcome to Casa De Em. And, I should probably make it very clear that I speak no other language than English, and even that’s a struggle. So, I hope whatever I just said didn’t offend an entire nation.”
I can’t help but chuckle at the cute way she babbles when she’s nervous. She told me on the last date that awkward silences make her nervous, and she tends to try to fill them. However, as she’s already super anxious, she may have a tendency to make the situation worse. Actually, I find it rather endearing, and as a blush spreads across her cheeks, I can’t help but shuffle a little closer.
“I don’t think that was a bad attempt. So, how has your week been? Have you been down any more dark alleys with complete strangers?” It’s supposed to be an innocent enough question, but I can hear a tone in my voice that I’m not used to hearing. It takes me a while to decipher what exactly I’m getting at, but I think Em gets there a lot quicker than I do.
“Are you asking me if I’ve been on any other dates this week?” she asks suspiciously, her gaze narrowing as they meet mine.
Am I asking her that? Is that what that feeling is—jealousy? Oh shit, I definitely do not like that.
“Well, I wasn’t meaning it like that. Maybe I’m just wondering if other guys can come up with as cool a date idea as mine. I know it’s tough to beat, but they can but try,” I joke. Her eyes flicker in a way that calls bullshit, but she sidesteps my obvious blunder.
“Well…” she starts, a shy smile spreading across her face. “I haven’t been on any dates this week, and I definitely haven’t ever been on one with a potential serial killer who does freaky dark alley tests.” Her tinkling laughter rings out at the end, and just like it did at the pub last week, it sends tingles throughout my body and is like music to my ears. I wouldn’t class myself as a funny guy, but I love to see the way this girl lights up every time she laughs.
Feigning offence, I hold out the hand that isn’t holding the cider can, in a stop sign. “Whoa, serial killer is a little harsh.”
“I said potential serial killer,” she replies, before taking a sip of her can and shuffling into a more comfortable position on the sofa, with her leg underneath her ass. I don’t miss the way her new position puts her closer to me, and she’s now leaning in my direction. It wouldn’t be hard for me to pull the exact same move until we’re both sitting right beside each other, almost touching.
“Why would you go down a dark alley with someone you thought could be a serial killer?”
With a big smile on her face, she pulls herself up so that she’s sitting up taller and looks a lot more confident than she did just a second ago. “Well, it probably had something to do with the fact I knew I could take you.”
If I’d had a mouthful of cider at the time, it wouldn’t have been the perfect moment for a spit take. A short, sharp ‘ha’ escapes my lips and her brow furrows as she stares at me intently. I raise my eyebrows questioningly, and I can tell that only pisses her off further.
“I may be short and a girl, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to throw a punch or throw down. I used to be a bit of a fighter when I was younger,” she explains, looking incredibly proud of herself, and I can tell she’s serious.
“What do you mean?” I’m sure the confusion is evident on my face, but I clarify it aloud just in case.
A blush spreads across her creamy alabaster skin, and there’s a definite twinkle to her eye that I’ve not seen before. “When I was a teenager, I just used to be really angry. I guess you could say I had a lot going on in my head and I really didn’t know how to deal, and it caused me to lash out. I may have been a relatively small girl, but I had no issues throwing down with the tallest guy in the school if I had to. I guess you could say I got a bit of a reputation as being a brawler. It’s not something I’m super proud of, but I know how to take care of myself. Which is why your dark alley test didn’t scare me.”
“Because you knew you could kick the shit out of me if I tried anything.” I say the thing we both knew was left unsaid from the end of her explanation.
