Adrian
I don't like him.
I don't like him at all.
Grayson is having a fucking ball with this guy and I don't like him.
He's too comfortable. Too close. Too close and too comfortable with Emory and her apartment and her snacks and where she keeps the mics for when they do karaoke.
Which I've discovered is something these two do often.
I know it's ridiculous of me to not like him considering I know that they're nothing more than friends. It took me all of 10 minutes of watching them interact to figure that one out but when it comes to Emory, it's nearly impossible not to be jealous. Envious of another man.
Especially when all of her dimpled smiles and laughs and giggles go to him.
It's fucking frustrating.
Emory and Alex are talking to Grayson about god knows what, I tuned out a while ago because I can't help myself. I don't care what the other two are talking about, I love just watching her and this is the only opportunity I could do it properly without being questioned.
Everyone's too drunk to notice.
When she's drunk, her cheeks get the brightest shade of red and she smiles all of the time. Her eyes are glossy but bright with joy as if she couldn't be happier with the company around her and the chance to unwind. She's a lot looser, confident and even though I enjoy her shy and anxious side, drunk Emory might be a new favorite of mine.
No artist in the world could capture the kind of beautiful Emory is. I'd like to see someone try.
It's fucking devastating honestly and what makes it all the more remarkable is she isn't even aware of it.
I'm sat in the armchair adjacent to the sofa where Emory is sitting next to Alex, way too close, and Grayson occupies the floor.
He prefers the floor when he's drunk.
I've been babysitting my drinks, wanting to make sure my best friend and the woman I'm obsessed with are alright.
I've engaged in the conversation when addressed, usually by Grayson, and try my best, for the sake of my best friend, to talk to Alex. Can't seem to get more than a few words out though.
Emory throws her head back with another laugh before she tips over just a bit and rests her body against Alex, who seems unfazed by it while he continues to chat it up with Grayson.
The sight makes my jaw tight and my grip on the warm beer I'm holding tightens like I could shatter it while I start twisting that middle ring on my other hand.
As if she remembered I was there, Emory's glossy eyes catch mine and that beautiful smile falters just a bit.
I watch the gears in her head begin to turn as if she were trying to decide what to do. As if she were debating on saying something to me.
Then, while Alex and Grayson continue to talk and pay her no mind, Emory lifts her hand, offers me one of those friendly, dimpled smiles and waves.
Hi she mouths.
My entire chest constricts and I fight every urge to stand up, walk over to where she is and pluck her from the couch so that I can take her away. Take her to her bedroom and claim her in every way possible.
A goddamn wave and I'm done for? That's the kind of shit she does to me. She wrecks me.
I swallow and give a firm nod because it's all I can manage without giving into any of the urges surging through me and then I'm taking a much larger gulp of my beer than I planned.
I rise to my feet, not to carry her away, but to distance myself before I do something completely moronic like kiss her in front of her brother and deck her friend for lazily wrapping an arm around her.
I head to the kitchen, running a hand through my hair and leaning against the counter top, focusing my gaze on the cupcakes Emory had offered me earlier.
She stress bakes. I knew that. Spent so many holidays watching her bake under the stress of making sure the holidays are happy and cheerful, just like her.
There goes that sick part of me, wondering if I'd ever been her reason to bake. Wondering if I get under her skin the way she gets under mine, driving her to do whatever it takes to get me out.
"Adrian" that soft voice yanks me from my thoughts and I turn my head to find Emory leaning against the fridge, hugging herself, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.
She's still drunk but a piece of sober Emory is poking through for the sake of whatever it is she came over here to say to me.
"Are you okay?" She asks and I mask my surprise at the question. She's doesn't usually check on me. She used to but it's been a long time since that question was directed towards me.
"Fine" I nod.
"You sure?" She does that little head tilt thing and I may or may not be a little hard.
Just shoot me. Put me out of my misery.
"Yes, Emory" I sigh. She thinks I'm frustrated, which I might be, just not in the way she thinks I am.
Instead of abandoning me like I assumed she would, she lets out a little huff of a breath, as if she's trying to hide her own frustration and walks over to the counter littered with different treats she must've made stuffed into various Tupperware's. I love when she tries to hide her annoyance. It's cute when she thinks she's doing a good job and I get to witness the little crinkle in between her eyebrows form when she's mad.
Emory eyes the different containers before grabbing one and slowly makes her way to me all nervous and unsure. I like it.
I didn't realize how I was usually the one to come to her and I like the sight of her walking towards me way too much.
When she's standing right in front of me, she looks up with those big brown eyes and a tight lipped smile, those dimples of hers poking her cheeks. Then, she opens the container and holds it out between us, urging me to look inside at her offering.
When I do, my heart nearly lodges into my throat.
"You're the only person I know that eats scones the way Gray eats...well, anything" she shrugs and a soft laugh escapes her.
"I figured you'd appreciate these more than anyone" Emory says and now she's blushing. As if her cheeks couldn't get any redder, here she is, lit up like a Christmas light. The tips of her ears are pink too.
She could have offered me a container full of dirt and I'd appreciate it more than anyone. The things this woman does to me is borderline inhumane.
I love scones. Always had a taste for them and prefer them over a muffin or a cookie and some people find that odd. But here she is, offering me a container full of them. A container full of scones she baked herself and she's giving them to me because she knows that I like them.
It takes every fiber of my being not to kiss her then and there.
Emory's smile falters and I hate it. I want her to keep smiling and to keep absentmindedly pointing out things I like.
"You don't have to take them, I just figur-" I cut her off by snatching the scones from her hands because my self control was hanging by a thread and I'd be damned if I let her take back this moment.
Selfish little angel.
Emory's eyebrows shoot up in surprise before she bites her bottom lip to suppress a smile. An excited smile, a triumphant smile. The sight is enough for me to not give a shit about my self control because she should feel triumphant.
She won and she won a long time ago. I'm simply waiting for her to realize that.
"Thank you" I tell her, my voice soft and sincere and that catches her off guard, giving me the upper hand. Again.
"Y-you're welcome" she's blushing some more and then she severs the eye contact, as she usually does and I don't like it because this moment was ours.
Just as she's about to scurry off, my arm reaches out to stop her, wrapping around her waist in a lazy manner and making her head snap up to look at me with that doe-eyed shock of hers.
I just needed her eyes a bit longer.
We both don't say anything.
Then she swallows and I let her go.