The sound inside the club was deafening to the point where she decided to just ignore anyone who tried moving their lips at her. Emma swayed her hips, arms thrown up carelessly in the air, and rocked her body to the electric music- or dub-step, she could hardly tell anymore.
Every now and then, some guy who thought he had a chance, would pop up from somewhere and start grinding on her, as if she was some cheap blow-up doll the idiot bought from their local sex shop.
Emma rolled her grass green eyes as the newest contestant started his turn on her. But feeling empowered and incredibly sexy by the seven drinks she's had and pumping music in the air, Emma blew the guy a kiss before swaying away. He laughed and slurred words at her. He quickly started towards her when she beckoned him with a finger. When he staggered over to her, Emma batted her long lashes, tossed back her locks of blonde hair, and motioned him closer. And closer he came.
Like a dog in heat, he hurried over, getting so close, Emma could easily see, and smell, exactly how long he had been clubbing.
She fluttered her lashes sensibly, and puckered her lips, throwing another kiss to him. He grinned and Emma spotted yellow where white should clearly be. She suppressed a laugh. Poor guy thought he was getting lucky.
Cheekily, her forefinger traced his jaw, pulling him to her lips… then just as he started to close his eyes to seal the deal, the clever women took a step aside, watching him tumble to the floor.
By the time he stood up, looking both bewildered and furious, she was already at the bar, at the other side of the club, laughing.
From her place, she could easily see him look frantically around for her. Emma snorted through her laughter and took a swing of her drink her friend bought her.
"Mon dieu! Oh Emma! That was hilarious!" Michelle slapped the bar counter as she spoke. "You out did yourself that time mate!" Emma's friend laughed, sipped at her own drink, then fingered the red ribbon in her hair like how she in an age old habit.
It was a tic really. Some people spit, others twitch, chewed pens, and even bite nails, but Michelle's tic was to twirl the red ribbon in her ebony hair.
Emma giggled at the phrase. Ah! It had been forever since she went out to a club! She bobbled her head at the next song coming up. Some remix of a popular radio song. She quickly drained her drink.
"Oi! Two shots over here," Michelle cried out to the bartender. A cry came from the crowd on the dance floor, and Emma turned in curiosity at what it was.
"Oh!" She grinned widely and clapped her hands together. Someone had added flashing colored lights to the dance. People moved in shades of blues, reds, greens, and ever popular orange of Netherlands.
Michelle handed the 23 year old her shot. "The clubs here are great!" She shouted into the island native's ear. Said women laughed wildly just as a shot of green light flashed by them.
She heard Michelle gasp loudly. But when Emma opened her mouth to ask, she saw it, or rather him.
A somewhat short guy was a few feet away. Emma had to admit he was pretty cute. He had short dark cropped hair and a dark skin not unlike Michelle herself. "I'm going in ami," Michelle declared, tossing back the shot into her mouth. "Wish me luck!"
Emma let out a cheerful WOOP to encourage her best friend and threw back her own shot. "Ohh…" She savored the feeling and turned back to look for the bartender. "Another," she demanded to herself, slamming down the shot glass onto the countertop. Boy oh boy, the slur in her tone was getting more apparent to her ears… Which meant the fun was just starting! She giggled at her mental joke. "Hey!" she called, but he kept his back to her. Emma called again… and again… and again until she was perfectly aggravated. Her hand shot into the air as she leaned over the bar-top. "Oi! Barkeep! You gots a customer over here!" She screamed over the music.
The sexy as hell bartender moved to her side with a raised eyebrow, but gave no comment as he refilled her glass and made his way down to the cackling group of guys. She wanted to whine, "Come back…" But it was fruitless. He could only hang out with her for so long. Even though she was hot as the freaking sun and deserved all of this fucker's attention.
There was a loud scoff and she turned her head to the side. What looked back at her was a glare from a couple- the man actually. Through her drunken mind, Emma thought the two like an odd couple. This guy looked all flimsy and stuck up while his pretty brunette partner looked chilled and on the verge of laughing. The man wrinkled his aristocrat nose at Emma, but at his girlfriend's words into his ear, he stood abruptly, taking his lover with him. Identical golden bands on their ring fingers made her squint and snort.
"Day-um!" What a weird couple!
But she shook her head, not noticing the single strap on her black dress slip over her pale shoulder. "C-can you believe that bull about opposites attracting Barkeep-ep?" She slurred to her man staring at her with a glowering brow and deep set frown.
Emma threw back the drink and felt it burn the back of her throat. Hell yea. She waved frantically to the tall bartender, purposely ignoring his busty coworker, and giggled happily, head still lingering in lala land. "What would it be this time?" The busty coworker asked her, smile nervously fading and coming back to reality.
Her eyes drifted to where a new couple sat in the other's seats. "The guy looked snob. The sex must be good though. For her to stay with that noob, hahah!" The words fell out and her eyes went back to the bartender, who was patiently waiting for her to end her drunken ramble. She kept her eyes on her for a while and Emma still kept going for a solid five minutes. After a while,
Emma's eyes suddenly widen.
"Oh my fucking God!" she announced, one or two people near her glanced over. "The bar- guy finally heard! A miracle!" Emma leaned on the counter, she felt her breasts lying against the cool wood and she shivered in the hot room. The other bartender, the chick, was nowhere to be found, and Emma relished in the thought that she had hot bar guy to herself.
His frown was still firmly in place and he looked a little different, but she didn't bother figuring out what it was. "I think you should leave." Holy shit, can anyone say bedroom voice? It was like sex for her ears. Yet the actual question blurred on her ears and she continued to smile dopily.
"Keep the shots coming this way man!" She tapped the wood with a fingernail. "But- you know. Just fuck me… up!"
Smooth. And very subtle no less.
However, the bartender only gave her a dry, narrow glare. "Don't you think you've had enough?" For whatever reason, this sounded impossibly funny to her, causing a rusty laugh from the inside of her dry throat.
As her sniggers subsided, she caught the seriousness implanted in his green eyes. They were… shockingly hard and deep, a thought she should've been incapable of thinking in her drunk mindset. Oh shit. He was hotter than she thought before.
"Stop drinking and go home." His voice was unbelievably unfathomable and rich. It sent another shiver down her spine and lit a warmth deep in her belly. She crossed her legs uncomfortably at the wetness gathering in-between her legs. Damn she had never felt so aroused around a guy she just met. It was completely unnerving.
Seeing her unresponsive, the man started away, reminding Emma of her much wanted drink.
"H-hey!" She reached out to catch the blue and white scarf around his neck. She was surprised by the wooly texture of it, like the things her own mother used to knit. The ones she left behind that is. He let out a pained gurgle at the choking she was inflicting on him. "Jesus! Sorry!" She tried smiling the smile her friends had nicknamed "Get-out free card."
But the smile did nothing to lessen the sharp glare he was giving her. They stayed watching (him glaring, her ogling actually) at one another for so long that Emma spotted a scar over one of his brows. His bottom lip was just a tad plumper than the top, making her want to grab him by the scarf and smother his lips with her own. She could practically feel her heart start to beat faster and harder at the thought, and she was sure she couldn't blame it on the alcohol she was consuming.
He was so hot.
Her eyes refocused on the situation when she figured out that instead of an intense showdown that was happening, she was basically checking him out. To her pleasure, and quick excitement he had also dropped his gaze to her lips.
"Can I have my drink?" she whispered, not bothering with the volume of her voice since he was still watching her lips (and maybe her neck and maybe just a little lower). She giggled stupidly at the idea.
The man snapped his eyes away and brought them up to her own, all feelings of whatever that was thrown out the window of 'not getting' any tonight.' He ran a hand through his spiked hair, a couple of shades lighter than her own dirty blonde. Those green orbs returned to an annoyed look while the expression he gave her was more of a tired one than actual anger.
Wordlessly, he motioned for the busty chick, who had a very cute platinum bob by the way, to refilled a shot glass and passed it to her. The chick muttered something to hot bar guy and he nodded to her. She glanced back at Emma and left.
This time, instead of drinking the alcohol like water, she sipped meekly at it. The bartender watched her for a moment. Emma could feel his stare on her like a wool blanket. She glanced up for a second and saw behind the seriousness of his eyes, there was a glint of … She couldn't place her finger on it. But… even though she was drunk, Emma thought his look mirrored her own.
"I'm calling you a cab." He finally said, just loud enough for her to hear it. The hungry look prickling his orbs disappeared to a point where she doubted that there had been anything in the first place. Yet his lingering eyes on her made her want to counteract that notion.
"Why are you wearing a scarf?" She needed to say something to block out the idea this model worthy guy could be feeling anything that she was. That would be weird. Like a thing from those movies. Plus it seemed incredibly odd to her that a bartender was wearing a scarf in the middle of his shift. Or was he? She was so wasted; she blinked and saw his twin suddenly appear besides the guy. "And when did you brother get here?" she questioned. But wait. No... She leaned over again and touched the scarf. Hmm. So that part had to be true, but the hot bartender having a hot twin? Not likely.
Emma rubbed at her eyes with a closed fist in order to help decide the situation. "Your twin's freaking hot man." she concluded. The man kept his gaze on her and she quickly looked him up and down. "Damn you two are tall." Oh! She saw what was different about him from before! "Oh, hey! You guys aren't wearing the bar uniform thing," she declared, an equally loud yell in the club. But indeed, the bartender no longer wove the fitted black jeans and the orange Tee with the club's logo. "Both of you still look hella good though!" In their place were faded blue jeans, a plain shirt, and- Emma squinted her eyes- he had a jacket over an arm.
And of course, that scarf.
Emma raised the shot glass to her lips and slurped loudly. "So guys, what the deal-lee-o with the scarfs?"
As if to answer her question, he picked up a phone from under the bar, looked like he dialed in a number, and put it to his ear. He muttered something under his breath, looking dangerously like, "Damn collage girls." So much for him feeling the same way. Arghhh. Killjoy. She pouted.
Then suddenly- "Yo Lars!" Emma turned towards the shout behind the bar. A tall man wearing the bartender's uniform was making his way towards her and The Scarf Guy, Lars. Lars. What a name. She blinked once. The Scarf Guy has a name.
"Sorry I was late, L-" He didn't look apologetic at all and the large grin adorning his face did nothing to say otherwise. "Oh… Lars my man!" God his teeth were so white. When a light flashed on them, they blinded her a bit. "Should I have come later?" He had an accent. Certainly he wasn't from the Netherlands, or her home country of Belgium. Danish maybe?
One of the other costumers called out to the man in uniform. The newcomer shouted back a reply, throwing his bundle of jacket under the counter and quickly taking some of the orders.
Scarf Guy, a.k.a Lars, rolled his eyes. "She's drunk you fool, I'm calling a cab."
"Seriously, man? After last week?" The newcomer spoke to Lars but Emma leaned in and squinted to read his lips over the beat of the techno song.
He reached back down to redial the numbers, but he looked up at her this time, a flicker of some kind of doubt shining through for some reason. He tossed back his fellow bartender a dirty look that made the one he gave her a cute wink, and finally slammed down the phone. Emma saw his mouth move, but the words must have been under his breath because she couldn't make out a damn thing.
Emma watched with a dreamy gaze as he took a few steps away from her and opened the bar countertop to walk out from behind it. The expression appearing on his face was completely beyond annoyed. Yet whether with her or with his friend (?), who knew.
"Did you come with anyone?" He stood before her (with much more muscle than he first thought) sulky, sexy really, mask on.
"I know who I wanna go home with."
"My god, you're drunk."
She scuffed at that. "Who was pouring me the drinks- you or your hot twin?" His brow rose along with a twitch of his mouth. Wow wait. Was he going to smile? But just as the thought ran by her brain, Lars set his kissable lips into that thin, but still hot, frown.
Suddenly he pulled her somewhat roughly by the arm. She felt where his fingers curled around her arm and tightened. Emma let out a dramatic gasp as she was pulled from her stool and fell against him. She was about to dramatically slap him for his mega rudeness when she smelt the faintest hint of his cologne on his grey T. Her fingers clutched the fabric, half to steady herself, half to tug him closer.
"I'm driving you home," Lars' voice was on her ear. She heard it clearly over the beat of the music. Emma gave a jerky nod of head, causing blonde strands of blonde hair to come loose and frame her face.
There. Again the flame deep in her belly seemed to rage stronger because of him. Never had she ever been so attracted to a guy like this, and through her drunken haze, Emma was surprised by it. She just wanted him so badly; the notion was was kinda shocking.
Lust in love.
However, there was something else. A deep buried feeling inside of her heart. Lars, this bartender, made her feel from the bottom of it.
Lars stared down at her just as she kept her eyes on him. For a moment, neither of them moved or pulled away.
Hmmm… She thought, maybe the feeling was mutual.
Then his Danish coworker crudely yelled out, "Call me later if you get lucky!" Lars snapped his gaze from hers. He shot back a curse to his friend(again ?) behind the bar, and once more she felt his digits grip her arm, not enough to hurt, but enough to keep her dragging behind him, and started to pull them both away from the bar.
Lars walked fast through the crowd, seeming not to care if the people he pushed past cursed at him. He kept a steady pace and never turned back to look at them. Emma was dragged behind him and even got left with the aftermath he was causing.
"Watch it blondie! One yelled right by her ear.
"Get your man a leash!" another hissed right through the noise.
Emma scowled at all of them and pressed herself closer to Lars to keep from losing him through all of it. She turned her head, hearing Michelle's glass-shattering cackle from the left. But just as her eyes could catch a hint of red ribbon, Lars has pushed them past the exit doors.
It was almost eerie at the lack of sound. There were several people in the parking lot, mostly by their own cars, chatting to others.
Emma glanced behind her and saw two large, bulky men standing besides the door. The bouncers didn't bother looking at her, so when she took a wobbly step forward by herself, no one offered help to her, a fucking lady for Pete's sake. "Jackasses," she mumbled, then finally realizing that the man who pulled her out of the club wasn't there.
"Are you going to stand there or are you coming with me?" The voice came from a few feet away. Her head flipped to that side and spotted him opening the door to a decent looking silver, car. Emma, on shaky legs, managed to make it there and fumbled with the door handle before entering it. Lars was already inside and turning on the engine. "You took your damn time," he grunted like the uneducated cave man Emma was beginning to think he was. Mysterious? Yes. Hot but an ass. Story of her life.
"Don't g-gots to be rudes 'bout it." She heard herself say only to get another grunt in response. "Does your sunshine personality help get all the girls back to your place?" She snickered at her own lame insult and let loose a throaty laugh. Emma saw him roll these pretty green eyes before pulling out if the club's parking lot.
"Do you always get in cars with strangers?" he replied back with the tone he had back at the bar. She glowered at that, followed by a pout spreading over the red of her lips.
"You're the one who didn't call a cab," she sang. "You wanna take me home and who am I to say no, pretty boy? Even if your sugar and apple spice personally makes me wanna cringe." She poked a finger at the hard muscle in his arm.
"You're clearly not one to even look at the news," Lars muttered darkly as the city lights shone into the car. "Where do you live?" Emma blinked at the mysteriousness of that.
"What happened on the news?"
"Where do you live?"
"Tell me first."
"Where. Do. You. Live," he said between clutched teeth. She almost laughed again at his serious tone, which she would've still done if she was somber.
"Naw, I'd rather you tell me first," she chirped brightly. She could almost see a vein spring up on the side of his neck. Hee, he was fun to tease.
Lars almost seemed to growl, "It's too late to deal with drunkards like you." Then to her surprise, he reached over, to the glove department and pulled out a … pipe? Yeah, a pipe and a small bag of something. He then singlehandedly, professionally, managed to0 fill the elegant looking pipe with the dried out wad of plant. "Be useful and give me the lighter there, will you?"
Emma remembered to close her mouth when she did, it closed with a click of her teeth. "Uh-um, o-ok." She wasn't sure why she stuttered, it's not like she hadn't seen anyone smoke weed before… and this was The Netherlands after all.
Her hands rumbled through the drawer until she found the orange lighter. "Turn your head," she said and was surprise she actually did without any lip. Concentrating, Emma dipped the small flame into the pipe, only pulling her eyes up to catch his eyes sliding to her for a nanosecond before dragging them back to the road. She heard him mumble thanks as he took a deep breath of it. Seconds later, out of the corner of his mouth, she watched, trance fixed, as he let out three rings of smoke, filling the car and making her eyes water.
Her hands flew up to wave away the smoke and smell.
She coughed harshly, "Give a girl a warning next time!" she demanded whiling moving to open the window.
Emma heard him chuckle from her side. Truthfully, she would be lying if she said the sound didn't astonish her or make the ache in her groin almost beg for him. Her chest tightened at the same time. Was she sick? The lust she could get, but the throbbing in her chest? Maybe she did have one too many drinks? She just met him, Jesus Christ. She couldn't love the man. That love at first sight bullshit was only a marketing scheme big-shot companies had to get money from little kids and lonely adults. She dismissed it altogether and repeated her earlier question.
"So what happened?" She turned to look at him with half closed eyes. The chill of the wind bit into her skin on her left side. She didn't bother to turn up the glass, though.
For a while he didn't reply and oh- Emma was so tempted to give a good shove to get his mind out of whatever drug induced state it was leaping into.
But… even through her own stupor, the Belgium thought that raising the chances of getting into a crash wasn't the best option at the moment. So instead, with heavy lids, she said, "I live at 224 Mochin, apartment 4A." Lars inhaled another deep breath into his lungs and actually smiled. It made her heart and stomach do odd summersaults.
He pulled the pipe from his mouth, taking a left then stopping at a traffic light. She kept her eyes on him- He was so handsome- and softly uttered, "Lars," for no reason at all. She just wanted the taste of his name on her tongue. Maybe it was to substitute the need for something else of his on her tongue.
Whatever it was, it made his sharp, and heavy with drug, gaze turn to her. They watched one another for a second then-
"About a two weeks ago, some cabbie raped a girl who was going back home." He said it so bluntly, as if it wasn't about rape.
In a snap, her mind woke from the drowsiness. Emma didn't know what to say, so her mouth stayed hanging open until the light signaled the go, and he started to drive forward.
"Is that why… you're taking me home?" And with the sentence came a sickening saddening realization that he did this to be nice, not cause he might like her.
ARGH. It was so wrong of a thought that Emma swallowed thickly and shifted her gaze out the window in shame. The lights from the buildings looked so beautiful. But it did little to block out how awful she was. How self-centered she was.
You're drunk, it's ok, half of your brain is still at the club.
That doesn't how cruel I'm thinking. Someone got raped and I'm bitching over my love life.
Both of the voiced continued to debate, leading her to a long silence, so when Lars finally spoke, she was staring dejectedly at the car's floor.
"Maybe." Great, now he pitied her by giving her some half-assed reply. Couldn't he spare her the pain and just tell her he wasn't interested? Her heart burned inside of her chest. God, she felt sick.
Well hot dang, that hurt her ego (her feelings) some. She casted her own green eyes at him, and this time with that hurt beaming through them. "I thought you liked me…" Oh god, her voice sounded whiny to her own ears. You made it weird and awkward! Stop yapping! The guy must think shes a slut now.
A drunk slut. Perfect. Just the way to start off a relationship. Wow. Wait. Did she just think that?
Emma kldugf;ouawgf;owegf had just reached a new level of low. Here she this hot guy, who she totally wants in bed with her, tells her that the only reason she got this far was because he didn't want her to get raped…? Ah… This whole situation was getting pretty complicated really, really fast.
"Ah." That brought back the young women back into the moving car. "Don't get the wrong idea about I'm doing. I wouldn't waste my time doing something didn't like. And I'm not the type to spare feelings. If Mathias hadn't been an ass, I wouldn't have called cab and this," he paused for a puff, "would've still happened." As each word fell from his lips and attached themselves to her ears, to her chest, making her insides go warm, Emma felt her face flood with boiling blood.
"Did you just say- What I think you just said," she whispered, blooding pounding in her eardrums in the quiet of the car,
Lars took out his pipe from his mouth. Looked like the weed made his lips loose. "For some reason, I think I love you. And I really I really, really want you in bed." So the feeling was mutual after all.
That when she realized where they were. Her apartment complex sat right in front of the parked car. Emma blinked slowly. She didn't even notice coming up here. She turne back to Lars and saw him staring opening at her. She could see how the whites of his eyes were slightly bloodshot.
An animal inside of her growled, and well, who was she to deny?
Their lips clashed together with the clink of their teeth. However, both were too preoccupied with what was going on at hand to bother with a bit of toothache. Distantly, she heard something fall and hit the floor of the car with a thump. Pipe.
His tongue rolled against hers and forced a slow moan to crawl up from her throat. She felt a hand lace itself into her blonde lock to keep her in place. Both of her hands combed Lars' hair. It was longer and way softer than she thought. Apparently whatever hair product he used to keep it spiked like that didn't deter it from maximum silkiness.
Emma pressed up against him, her breasts to his hard chest, and sighed at the sensation. Yet she was greedy. She wanted- no needed- bare skin. So she slipped a hand under his shirt, feeling the rigid muscle woven there. Her thighs rubbed against one another for delicious friction when her fingers started to rub his tight nipples to start her way down the trail of hair leading to his-
"Arm!" Lars' gasp of shock would've made her giggle in another situation, but the man retorted by pushing her dress up, slip a hand under, and teasingly (so fucking softly) trace a finger over her wet panties.
The action caught her so off guard that her legs, on instinct, clasped shut, trapping his hand. Lars pulled away from her lips, making her mouth water for more, and started to suckle on the tender spot on her neck. Holy shit, how did he know… "Let me." It was a deep starved murmur. Emma panted, letting him spread her legs with his hand. Then, ah then, he pushed her underwear out of the way and slipped a knuckle into her warmth. Emma was almost sobbing at this point, her chest heaving with the almost cries passing through her body. She bulked her hips into his hand. The motion brought more of his finger inside of her.
Lars' mouth left neck to her collar bone. He started to nibble ever so gently there as he gave a pump of his hand with a groan.
"Thinking- oh! Ah- of something e-else be-being there?" Emma amazed herself by asking that but fuck- Fuck. The look on his face made her sex drip. His lips parted slightly, obviously taking her in even with the dim light of the apartment parking lot. There was a bit of concentration in his eyes, trying to hold back maybe. Lars regarded her with a lazy smile.
"Maybe…" She almost screamed.
Lars added another finger. He never slowed her pace until she was sure that his objective was to make her insane. But fine. If that's the way he wanted to be, she'll play.
Emma pushed her hand into his pants (which were unbuttoned thanks to her earlier actions) and wrapped her digits around his throbbing member. Hr rolled himself roughly against her hand. "Lars…" Emma moaned into his ear s she felt herself reaching her peak. "Lars." So close. It was right there. His fingers were hitting a sweet spot inside if her, causing her to start to grind heavily on his hand. So, so close.
She tried to focus on giving him some pleasure by concentrating on flicking her wrist up and down on him. Her fingers rubbed the precum on the mushroomed head. But. But. Fuck. She was almost there. When Lars added his thumb to her clit along with the increased thrusting of his fingers, Emma could reach her climax-
HONK
Her heart flew out of her mouth as she snapped her fingers from his jeans. Lars didn't remove his own from her crutch, but he did freeze, face just as, if not more, stun than hers.
Two pairs of emerald eyes looked around and immediately saw Lars' shoulder dangerously close to the horn.
The only sound left in the car was their combination huffing and puffing.
The blonde women felt her blonde cool then flare. She was having sex in a car. A car! Right when her place was right there. Hello! A bed sounded a million times better. The laughter from her throat bubbled from the deeps of her stomach to her windpipe to stumbling out of her mouth. This was way to funny. After a moment, another's laughter joined hers, and Emma decided right then, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. Lars touched his forehead with his clean hand, shaking his heas and peeked at her through closing lids. Though once their gazes met, the laughing turned to chuckles, then something clicked in both their heads.
In a blink, both where fixing up their attire, clasping hands, and rushing into the building.
The Belgium smiled at the lobbyist and pulled Lars into the elevator with her. Clumsily, her fingers pressed buttons to her floor just as the door closed silently. Without warning, Lars pulled her to the wall, his body trapping her. The bartender recaptured her mouth, making her body tremble with what it knew was coming. Eagerly, her hips moved on his, feeling his hand grasping at her leg and bringing it up over his waist. She clearly felt the large bugle pressing at her core. The sense made them moan into each other's mouths.
There was distant Ding that announced the opening of the door and they took their time detaching themselves from the other. The door had almost closed again.
Emma smiled as they finally reached her room. Lars stopped behind her and raised a brow at her empty hands. She grinned at his look and leaned down to grab the key from her left boot. He smirked with an eyeroll. But as the door opened, his humor was replaced by passion once more. Emma only had a second to close and lock the door before Lars carried her off to her bedroom via instructions between hot kisses.
In total, they made love four times. Twice on the bed, once against the wall, and the last time, he took her slowly from behind on the floor.
Emma thanked god that Michelle had gone with her own gut, leaving her and Lars to enjoy the remaining time of the night by themselves.
The morning sun was peering through the curtains of her room. Emma's eyes clutched down harder at that, then grouchily, thick with sleep, slowly, so slowly, opened slightly to see Lars' sleeping face only several inches from her own. Her heart filled with some foreign warmth, recently discovered the night before.
She was terrified to recognize it as what it was. Love at first sight was not a real thing. Or at least that's what she always believed anyways…. This, this was she had with Lars… it felt like love.
Then in the last go, it had been slowed and heated, full of passion and hard desperate want.
Emma had only had sex with a handful of times with a old boyfriend back in high school. But after that last relationship blew up (Fuck you Antonio)- lets just say, last night was the first in a long, long time.
Either way, it was earthshaking ever more so when Lars held his sweaty forehead to hers as he rocked himself inside of her and said, "I love you."
Now as she looked at him with glassy eyes, Emma whispered out, "Me too." His arm around her waist moved to press her body even closer to his. Emma tenderly brought up a hand to push the strand of blonde hair from the bridge of his nose. He looked as good-looking with it down like that, free from the hair gel courtesy of her fingers.
She smiled again, surely glowing and shut her lids to fall back to sleep.
The next time she opened them, he was gone.
Emma sat up in bed, staring with a crestfallen expression on her features.
When the first tear rolled off her cheek and hit the back of her hand, she had already called herself a hundred names.
Three months later, she finally finished forcing everything back in place. Michelle noticed right away but she refused to tell her, both shamed and chest numb. That had caused a week long treatment of silence and frowns but in the end, Michelle grumpily agreed to let it go.
It was horrible. She kept recalling, in detail, that night. She avoided that club at all cost and… pushed him out of her mind as best as she could. It was for better for everyone- for her.
Emma's even had to call her father to explain to him that the reason she was so depressed was because she missed her home. Netherlands was cool, but Belgium was where her heart was. Of course her father understood that explanation. He was too trusting. Maybe that's why her mother left with Jan.
Anyway, three months later, Detective Kirkland called. About time. She had been in The Netherlands for eight months when the Englishmen had promised three. She was so lucky Michelle needed a roommate.
Their conversation went something like, "I've found him Emma, and at last, I've got him to agree to a meeting. Your brother is very persistent on getting his way, he didn't seem so keen on the idea, but lucky for you, so am I much more! It only took me a month to get him to say yes."
For the money they were paying him, he better be damn persistent.But after months of heartache, the news made her bottom lip tremble and a gleeful laugh leave her mouth. "Arthur! Oh Arthur! Thank- thank you." She almost saw the Brit's smile on the other side of the line.
"How do you feel about this Friday?"
She gasped. So soon! "Yes! Yes! What time? Where?"
He laughed. "Honeyton Hotel, on the corner of Loon and Bush. I reserved a room for you."
Emma thanked him a thousand times and when the day came around, she was happy for the first time in months.
She knocked with confidence on the room Kirkland told her and grinned when Arthur opened the door." They walked through the suite until they saw a young man sitting by the window, back to them, looking down at the passing people below.
Emma's beaming smile and nerves bubbled away, replaced with horror, as he turned towards him.
Lars.
He looked the same except for the dark half circles under his dulled green orbs. He even dawned that scarf.
Emma felt like someone mixed buring oil into her veins. "What are you doing here?" Her voice was hard, cold as steel. It made her proud as hell.
Lars stood, his blue and white scarf swaying as he did so. "Me? What are you doing her? Is this some sick prank," he said darkly. His eyes bore down on Arthur, who looked confused as fuck too.
"Emma, this is your older brother. Jan udgfugf, he changed his name due to your mother's choice on starting fresh," he explained slowly. "Lars, as I already told you, your father and Emma here, have been looking for your mother and yourself for the past two years. The two of you were hard to track, I must say, but u did you and now," the Brit turned to the shell shocked women, "Emma, you can finally have the older brother you wanted."
Lars and Emma couldn't remove their gaze from each other and as the seconds slide by, they grew paler and paler. Lars grabbed Arthur by the scruff of his shirt and jacket. "Why the hell didn't you should me a picture?!" he snapped.
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Unhand me now." Lars looked like he wasn't going to do any suck thing, but Emma made a pathetic whimper and he let the detective go. "Its apart of the agreement young man. Can't have you knowing until this moment. And Emma," he glanced at her, "wanted it to be a surprise."
Shaking, Emma sat down on the couch, a trembling hand to her forehead.
Oh god.
"Detective Kirkland, please let us talk alone." He started to object but at the expression smothered on her face, he nodded and said he would be right outside.
Both… siblings… stood in nagging silence for a long time until Emma met Lars' eyes. They reflected back the same emotions she had in her own; confusion, hopelessness, the love and passion, and worst of all, the guilt that came with something else…
She must be sick. Emma, oh god, she was so sick. She still wanted him (his love, his heart, his everything). Lars looked away, covering his face with his hands in guilt, confirming her suspicions.
He stilled wanted her too.