A/N: *LOOK MA! NO HANDS!* This is unbeta'd and my attempt to write a love story. It will probably be a complete train wreck. I'm (unofficially) using WitFit prompts and I hope that's ok.
Stephenie Meyer owns all rights. and stuff.
I stand outside the apartment building looking up into the 3rd floor window where several shadows are visible against the blinds. The air is heavy, thick with the scent of rain. I mentally kick myself for waiting so long, but it has to be done tonight because, as of tomorrow, I'm homeless. Now that I know he's not alone, I hope I can pull him aside and talk to him without causing a scene. My palms are clammy and my heart feels as though it's been permanently lodged in my throat.
My naive, romantic heart envisions an ideal scene of teary admissions and chivalrous resolve.
Right now, what I really need is a prince charming and his white horse, and maybe, I think as another wave of nausea hits, a toilet.
My feet lead me forward and into the building that I vaguely remember. As I step onto the elevator I let myself remember all I can of my last night here.
The lights are bright and trailing. My blood beats a pulse through my body beginning at head and traveling in waves to my toes. It's scary and exciting. I'm so very high and wanting to taste every sensation. I'm wanted, if only for a night. His strong arms wrap around me, as he whispers the dirty things he wants to do to me. I blush as his hand glides along my skin and up into my shirt to cup my bare breast. I laughingly push him away and turn myself in to him, grinding my hips into his obvious arousal. Our moans fill the empty elevator as I melt into the heat of his mouth along my neck.
We never make it past the front door. He pushes me against the wall, our lips crashing together and our hands grabbing desperately. My skirt is jacked up around my waist and my panties pushed aside. He's quick and rough, his entire body goes limp as he finishes leaving me to see myself out.
The doors open and I swallow hard as anxiety threatens my already weak stomach. I slip a hand into my coat pocket and find the small package of crackers, and wrapped peppermints I now carry along with me everywhere.
"Full steam ahead", I tell myself, parroting the words my father uses when I'm reluctant to do something. I will my feet to move faster down the hall. The quicker I'm there, the quicker it's done.
I stand waiting for several seconds after knocking. I place a hand over my stomach in a vain attempt to quell the ever present urge to vomit, but it becomes more intense with each approaching footstep behind the door.
The door swings open, giving me a start is it reveals a man who is definitely not Emmett. He looks out at me curiously but with a friendly smile.
My mind races as I struggle to form the words needed, but am unable to say, to this stunning stranger.
I'm standing there like an idiot, even more embarrassed now that I think I have the wrong apartment, when he asks if I need help.
"Um," I stammer before continuing quietly, "I'm looking for Emmett..." and it's now that I realize I have no idea what his last name is.
His eyebrows rise in surprise but his smile never falters it's welcome as he ushers me in and offers to take my coat.
He has it in hand and swinging from a hanger aside all the others before I can tell him I'd rather keep it on.
I feel bare enough as it is, and now I've lost my last comfort.
I hear Emmett call out from the living room and I begin to fidget. Edward, I assume from Emmett's yell, extends his arm indicating where I should walk before following behind me.
He raises an eyebrow in question at Emmett as the smile disappears from his face as soon as I step out from behind Edward.
"What's up?" Emmett asks, nonchalantly turning back towards the TV to watch the football game that had begun again. My heart drops as I realize this isn't going to go well at all.
I try to make my request to talk to him sound casual, but my voice betrays me and I can barely whisper, "I need to talk to you".
"Ok..." he drawls, his tone bored and the leggy blond on his lap smirks.
"Alone," I pleads, my voice beginning to take on a desperate edge as my previous hopes die and mortification replaces them.
I realize now that Emmett won't doesn't care about me or what I need to tell him. After weeks of telling myself that his schedule kept him too busy to return my phone calls, convincing myself that he couldn't be reached so I needed to come to him and expose myself now, in front of his friends and the stunning blond he had draped across his legs, I begin to get angry.
Emmett sits there, continuing to ignore me and making a show of how bored he is with me, the young girl who's close to tears in the middle of his home.
"Emmett, please," I ask once more, my voice cracking with emotions boiling toward the surface, straining to break free, as I struggle to keep myself calm
"Whatever you have to say to me you can say to everyone"
I stand amidst these strangers; couples curled together on the couch, watching everything, the football game on the TV long forgotten and prepare to confess. I just want to leave as soon as possible now that I know I'm truly alone. I wonder why I even bothered coming. I should have just taken care of this on my own. It's my own stupid fault anyway.
I take a deep breath.
"Emmett, I'm pregnant."
This get his attention. He turns to face me incredulity painting his face.
His voice is calm, but it does not hide the bite of his words.
"Why the fuck did you barge in here and tell me this in front of my brother and my friends?"
I see red. I always thought it was an expression, but my eyesight narrows into a tunnel like view, a red haze around everything I see. "I tried to call you, asshole" I bite back, my confidence returning in answer to the venom in Emmett's words.
The angry tension in the room between Emmett and I is almost palpable. Edward clears his throat in an attempt to get Emmett's attention and insists to everyone that giving us privacy is probably a good idea, but Emmett flicks his hand towards his brother in an annoyed gesture.
Emmett gives an exasperated sigh and finally pauses the live broadcast. The silence that engulfs the room is crushing and the emotional strain becomes too much for me. I wince as the adrenaline wanes and my stomach rolls. My eyes dart around the room as I seek out where the nearest bathroom is. I cover my mouth as I run and make it safely to the bathroom with enough time to slam the door before kneeling in front of the toilet and expelling the contents of my stomach.
I cry silently as I sit on the bathroom floor and listen to the muffled, yet emotionally charged, voices coming from the other room. I'm trying to gather my nerves for the mortifying exit that awaits me, when a soft knock startles me
One of the girls stands, hovering in the doorway. She offers me a small smile t before asking me if there is anything I need.
I shake my head.
"I... I just need to leave," I manage to mutter as I walk around her and head for the front door. As I come into the room, I notice Emmett standing with his back toward everyone and his blond scowling in my direction. Fuck her, I think.
I rush from Emmett's apartment realizing too late that I've left my coat tucked between the others hanging in the closet. There's no way I'm going back in there. The only important thing in my jacket is my ID and I can get another one. I make my way back home through the cold night. The wind has picked up and it whips around my body. I make myself numb to the heartache and fear because, I tell myself, it's the only way I'll survive this.
I continue walking, my thoughts scattered. Scenarios come and go on a continuous loop ,circling upon themselves until I'm back to where I began. I'm pregnant. Emmett is not going to be the man I thought he could be. I am alone.
I arrive, several blocks later, at the small house I share with Charlie. The windows are dark and even the porch light, Charlie's beacon of safety on nights I'm out late, is off.
The reality of this night is suddenly crashing down around me and I don't think I can not bear to wake up once more in a home that no longer welcomes me, but I have nowhere else to go. I quietly let myself in and climb the stairs to my bedroom.
Fully clothed, I lay down on my childhood bed and stare at the rocking chair in the corner. I release a stuttering breath, and fight back the sobs trying to push forth. A single tear betrays me and falls to my pillow. Finally, I'm able to quiet my thoughts and let exhaustion consume me.