~~~~~ Emery’s Pov ~~~~~
I stared at the screen for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard, torn between every version of the night I’d already braced myself for and the small, stubborn part of me that hadn’t stopped wondering, since the moment she’d walked into the library, whether there was actually more to the story than what I’d seen through that half-open door.
I thought about Priya’s voice, steady and certain.
You caught the middle of something.
That’s not nothing, but it’s also not the whole story.
I thought about the way Calloway’s hands had stayed at her sides, hadn’t reached for the girl kissing her, hadn’t done anything at all except stand there like she’d been caught somewhere between shock and something else I hadn’t let myself consider yet.
I typed back before I could talk myself out of it.
Emery: Okay.
Give me twenty minutes.
I already knew the way, my feet retracing the same path I’d walked once before, the night of the rules list and loose-leaf paper, though everything about the walk felt different this time—heavier, less certain, my heart doing something complicated and fast in my chest the closer I got to her door.
I climbed the front steps and knocked, waiting for footsteps, for the door to swing open, for anything at all.
Nothing.
I knocked again, harder this time, and when there was still no answer, I pushed lightly against the door out of pure instinct, and it gave way beneath my hand, unlocked.
“Calloway?” I called, stepping inside cautiously, glancing around the familiar living room—the same leather couch, the same enormous television mounted above a fireplace neither of us had ever used.
No answer.
I was about to call her name again, my hand already halfway to my phone, when I heard footsteps approaching from somewhere down the hall.
Calloway walked into the living room a moment later, a white towel wrapped around her body, damp hair dripping slightly onto her shoulders, a smaller towel in one hand still working through the ends of her hair.
“You’re here,” she said, stopping short at the sight of me.
I froze.
Swallowed hard.
Looked away immediately, my face suddenly burning despite the cool evening air still clinging to my jacket.
“H-Hey…
w-why aren’t you wearing clothes?” I stammered, staring very intently at a spot on the wall just past her left shoulder.
Calloway let out a soft, surprised laugh, entirely too amused by my reaction.
“I just got out of the shower.
You knocked, then apparently let yourself in, so…
sorry.
“You texted me to come over!”
“I texted you to come over, not to arrive faster than the average human shower.”
But she was already retreating back down the hallway, still laughing quietly to herself, leaving me standing there blinking hard at the wall, my ears burning bright red.
I heard a door close, then the muffled sounds of drawers opening, fabric rustling, the ordinary noises of someone getting dressed in the next room while I stood frozen in her living room like I’d forgotten how bodies were supposed to work.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm myself down.
Then I turned and sat down on the couch.
A few minutes later, she reappeared, this time in an oversized gray T-shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder and soft cotton shorts.
Her hair was now twisted into a damp, messy knot at the back of her head, her bare feet quiet against the hardwood floor.
She looked different like this—softer, younger somehow, none of the careful, guarded polish she usually carried like armor.
“Better?” she asked, a small, self-conscious smile tugging at her lips.
“Much.”
I finally let myself look at her properly, my heart still beating far too fast for comfort.
She crossed the room slowly, not toward the armchair across from me but directly toward the couch, settling beside me.
She was closer than strictly necessary, close enough that I could feel the warmth still radiating faintly from her skin after the shower.
The living room smelled like her shampoo now, something clean and faintly floral cutting through the familiar scent of the apartment.
Before I could fully register the movement, her hand came up, gentle and unhurried, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear that had escaped from my ponytail on the walk over.
My breath caught somewhere in my throat.
“You really came fast,” she said softly, leaning in a little closer, studying my face like she was cataloguing every small detail of it.
My heart raced even faster, and it took me a second too long to actually register what she’d said.
The moment it landed, I pulled back slightly, coughing into my fist as I carefully put a few inches of space back between us.
Calloway just smiled, leaning back into the couch cushions, completely unbothered by my retreat.
“I’m sorry that you had to see that,” she said, quieter now, watching me carefully.
I shook my head and smiled a little awkwardly.
“No need for that, Calloway.
I can’t really stop you from having girlfriends—”
The words were out before I’d fully thought them through, and I felt my stomach drop the second I heard myself say them.
“We’re…” I started, then stopped, looking away, suddenly very interested in the worn throw blanket draped over the arm of the couch.
“We’re what, Hale?” she pressed, a small frown creasing her brow.
I made myself look at her.
“We’re fake.”
“Really?”
She leaned toward me again, closer this time, close enough that I had to fight the urge to look away a second time.
“You’re my girlfriend, Emery.
Whether fake or real.”
I blinked, genuinely caught off guard.
She said I’m her girlfriend.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of my lips before I caught myself and forced the expression away, though judging by the way Calloway’s own smile deepened, I hadn’t managed to hide it fast enough.
She leaned closer, stopping beside my ear, her voice dropping low and teasing.
“Why are you blushing like a ripe tomato?” she asked before reaching up and flicking my reddened ear lightly with one finger.
“I am not,” I said, swatting her hand away, though the heat in my face made the denial fairly useless.
“You absolutely are.”
She laughed, the sound easy and warm, filling the small living room in a way that made the whole evening feel, for one brief, dangerous moment, like nothing bad had happened at all.
I let myself have that moment just for a second.
Before the weight of everything else settled over it.
“Who was she?” I asked quietly.
“I mean…
the girl who kissed you.”
Thank you my lovely readers I really appreciate.
I still hope for all your support and help so that we can bring the reward back.
I really appreciate and wish you all the best in life.
Enjoy your read.