I received no less than FOUR requests via Tumblr for a Jesús/Emma story, so here I am, delivering (if a bit late). This will probably last for three or four chapters, and will probably take ages before I update it. That's how I roll, y'all. But perhaps if you say nice things to me in reviews I'll update faster or something. Particularly tell me how you feel about the first person POV; I'm not sure I like it, but it'd be weird to change to third person limited omniscient in the next chapter, so we're gonna stick with Jesús' mind, unless everyone hates it furiously.
"Hey, nerd," a preppy voice greets me. I turn to see Emma standing over me, and I'm embarrassed that my gaze gets stuck on her chest before I manage to meet her eyes. The longer I wrestle, the more I realize that she's really, really hot.
"Hey," I say easily, smiling up at her. "What's up?"
"I was wondering if you wanted to get pizza at The Palace after practice? Unless you're still trying to drop a weight class?" she teases.
"No, that sounds cool." Is this a date? My mind races. I have to ask my moms for permission, but I don't want her to know that, because she'll think I'm a total loser. "I've gotta get home first, and-" I sniff my armpit jokingly and make a face, "take a shower. Meet you at 6:30?"
"Sounds good." She winks and saunters away, leaving me to pack up and change.
This is definitely a date. Does that bother me? I mean, it should, right? I have a girlfriend. But then again… what Lexi doesn't know won't hurt her, right? Besides, it's probably not even a date. My head spins with questions as I rush to leave, and I run into my mom walking out of her office.
"Oops, sorry!" She opens her mouth to scold this random student for bumping into her, and then realizes it's me.
"You have to got to slow down, Jesús," she admonishes. "What if it'd been Prinicpal Sanchez coming out of the office?"
"I'd charm her with my good looks and handsome wit," I joke, grinning. It's not like Mama's going to give me detention or anything, and I'm too giddy to care much about consequences anyway. "Hey, if you're leaving now, can I have a ride home?" She frowns dubiously.
"I guess so, but don't tell your siblings." Then, once we're in the car, she asks, "What's got you so hyped up?"
I shrug, playing it cool, and Mama doesn't push it. Thank heavens for her belief in hands-off parenting or whatever.
"Hey, can I go to dinner with a friend?" I ask casually, glancing sideways at her. Her face is relaxed, neutral, and her eyes are trained firmly on the road. The drive home isn't long, and we're about to turn on our street. I'd rather ask her now, when she can just say yes without talking to Mom, who's more likely to ask questions.
"Why don't we talk it over with Mom," she says, guessing my plan. "You go get a shower, and meet us in the kitchen." We pull into the driveway and she turns the car off. I groan a little bit in my head. I don't want to explain this to Stef. Nevertheless, I grab my wrestling bag and get out of the car, heading into the house.
I come downstairs with my hair still wet, dressed in a clean shirt and shorts. I put on a little bit of cologne, too, but I don't know why. I have a girlfriend. I don't need to impress Emma.
"Hey, love," Mom acknowledges me as I enter the kitchen. "Who's this friend, huh?"
Way to jump right in, Mom. I roll my eyes a little bit, but answer.
"It's just some from wrestling."
"Where will you be and when will you get home?"
"I'm meeting her at The Palace for pizza. I'll probably be home by eleven." I see my moms exchange a look. "Ten," I edit, and Mama smiles at me.
"Her?" Mom has zeroed in on the one word I had hoped she wouldn't, and I decide to go for teasing rather than explain.
"yeah, Mom, her. Girls can wrestle! Don't be close-minded," I joke, and she swats my shoulder.
"Alright, bring your phone and be home by ten exactly," Mama says, ignoring our banter. "Have fun!"
"Thanks, moms," I say, grabbing my hoodie off the table and dashing out.
Fortunately, Emma's not at the restaurant yet when I arrive. I pick a corner booth within sight of the entrance and sit down, waiting. My leg starts to tap of its own accord, and I focus on my breathing to stop it. Mama's taught me all these breathing techniques to use to calm myself when I get worked up or anxious. It's stupid, but it works.
My heart starts to race when I see Emma's red hair come through the door. I put my hand up in a wave, and smile when I catch her attention.
"Hey," she says, sliding into the red pleather booth.
"Hey."
"So your moms said yes?" she asks with a smirk.
"What?"
"C'mon, Foster, I know you had to go home and ask for permission. It's cool!" She assures me. "You're a goody-two-shoes, I get it." She laughs. I never can tell if she's joking, but I laugh too.
We chat while we wait for a water to come, and it's surprisingly easy to talk to her. I order gluten free crust and she grimaces.
"Hey, it's better than ISS," I qualify, smiling at her.
"Why would pizza crust get you in ISS?"
"The gluten is, like, bad for my ADHD for some reason," I explain. "I don't really get it."
"Whatever, nerd," she says, punching my shoulder.
The rest of the dinner passes quickly. It's comfortable, being with Emma. It feels like we've been friends for ages. It's not at all a sensation I've ever had with anyone before – I mean, I've never really been friends with a girl before. With Lexi, first she was Mariana's friend, and then she was my girlfriend, so we were never really just plain friends. But this is nice, this friendship with Emma. She can dish it out as well as she can take it, and I almost forget she's a girl.
After we finish eating, I offer to pay and she insists on splitting the bill exactly fifty-fifty, which we do. We leave our bills in a heap on the table, heading out into the warm spring night.
"That was fun," Emma remarks, and I smile.
"Yeah, it was. Another time?"
"Totally. Catch you later, Foster."