Chapter II
"Hey, Emma."
The voice stopped her dead in her tracks. He wasn't supposed to be here. Not now.
"Don't you have a class this period?" she muttered, refusing to look at him.
It was last period, and Emma was certain Will had his honors senior Spanish class this hour. In fact, Emma knew Will's schedule like the back of her hand. It had been convenient for when she had planned her "accidental" bump-ins with Will, and now it proved just as useful when she sought to evade him.
And right now, he wasn't supposed to be here.
"They're taking a test," he explained, catching his breath as he caught up with her. "I needed to use the bathroom."
"Will, the faculty restroom is on the other side of the school," Emma spat at him with a bit more venom than she intended. She turned sharply on her heels, catching his gaze against her better judgment.
"Fine, Em," he muttered, sounding slightly hurt. She ignored the thudding in her chest, her gaze flickering from his eyes to her feet as he spoke. "I left early so I could catch you before you left."
She shifted her bag on her shoulder uncomfortably, swallowing her words. She didn't want to talk; not now.
"Please, Em," he pleaded with her, his eyes tearing through her. "I've been trying to find a spare moment to talk to you all week...we can't just leave what happened in the hallway unresolved."
Her heart continued to pound as a mixture of anxiety and longing coursed through her. "Not right now, Will," she manged to push the words from her lips.
"Why not, Emma? Now is as good a time as ever," Will told her, reaching out to gently touch her arm.
She didn't move, watching as his fingers rested softly on the sleeve of her lavender cardigan. She had known this moment would come. They could only avoid the situation for so long before throwing the turmoil of emotions out for the both of them to sort through. But she wasn't ready now; she had wanted this discussion to happen on her own terms. She felt unprepared and helpless from the spontaneity of this meeting, and she wasn't ready to smooth everything out between her and Will without careful planning on her part.
"No, Will," she told him as firmly as she could manage through the tightness in her throat. "I'm dating Carl. He's a good man, Will." The words tasted oddly familiar in her throat as she remembered saying the same about Ken. But this situation was different. Carl was different than Ken. And Will was not the man she had convinced herself he was. "And I have a date with him tonight, so if you'd please excuse me, I'd like to head home now."
The words were not a complete lie. Emma knew Carl would be eager to make this date a reality as soon as she requested it.
"Emma, you're going to have to stop running at some point," Will sighed, lowering his hand from her arm.
She didn't say anything as she turned away from him. She clutched her bag tightly against her side, digging her nails into the woven material.
"Goodbye, Will," she muttered, facing the empty expanse of hallway as the words left her lips.
XXXX
The hazy June afternoon suffocated her as soon as she left the building. She slipped her cardigan off her shoulders, draping it over her freckled arm. The afternoon rays beat down on her bare skin, and even in her sleeveless white blouse, she felt the unpleasant trickle of sweat begin to sweep beneath her clothing. She made it to her car, dreading the stuffy interior. She rummaged through her bag for her keys, placing them in the ignition and blasting the air conditioner as soon as the car was started. It was much too hot inside the car for Emma to even consider climbing in; even the blazing outdoor air was more bearable.
As she waited for her car to cool, Emma pulled her phone from her bag, dialing the number she had been avoiding for the past week.
He picked up on the first ring, and his eagerness immediately had Emma regretting her hasty decision.
"Emma!" Carl exclaimed cheerfully. "I wasn't expecting a call from you. What's up?"
She took in a breath of suffocating summer air. "I was, um, just wondering if you'd, you know, maybe like to go out tonight?"
Though the thought of a date was far from comforting, Emma felt a certain feeling of confidence surge through her. Will couldn't continue to rule her life this way. He was wrong. She wouldn't need to stop running. He was the one who needed to stop chasing.
"Tonight?" Carl couldn't hide his surprise. "I thought we were waiting until your school year ended, and you still have three days left if I counted correctly—not that I'm complaining or anything," he added quickly.
"Well, I have almost everything wrapped up now," she lied. Emma had been so anxious and edgy during the past week that she had accomplished close to nothing. She still had student schedules to enter, and she hadn't even begun packing up her office. "Things are going a lot smoother than I planned so I thought it'd be nice to go out tonight."
She could practically hear him grinning through the phone. "That'd be great, Emma. I'll pick you up at your place around seven?"
"That works for me," she agreed, twisting the hem of her blouse between her fingers.
"I've got to go now...I'll see you later," he told her, hanging up before she could even manage to bid him goodbye.
XXXX
"What the hell am I supposed to wear?" Emma exasperated, her throat tightening in frustration as she rummaged through her closet.
The phone conversation with Carl had ended so abruptly that Emma hadn't even had the chance to ask where they would be going. Emma's tendency to need constant control made her a hater of surprises.
She scanned her rows of skirts, running her fingers across the material. Her eyes fell on her Red Valentino dress. She had worn it for Will, the night the unexpected run-in with Terri had occurred. She touched the fabric of the dress, the culmination of frustration and anger finally getting the best of her.
She felt tears spring in her eyes as she collapsed to her closet floor. How had she gotten here? She had known from the start that chasing after a married man was messy business, but she had been careful to keep her infatuation tidy and under control. But she had soon discovered she'd been wearing her heart on her sleeve, and now she vowed to keep it safely tucked away. It hurt too much to have the one person who could shake Emma up so violently rip her heart carelessly away from her, and no matter how sincerely Will tried to win her back, she refused to compromise herself once again.
Emma knew what it felt like to be used. She knew what it felt like to be used and disposed like a filthy piece of garbage, and she had promised herself she wouldn't let it happen again. She had come too close with Will. Much too close.
She rose from the floor, trying to pull herself out of her funk. Will couldn't continue to keep such a strong grip on her life, she reminded herself. And she wasn't going to let a mere memory keep her from wearing that damn red dress.
She pulled it from the hanger a little more violently than she intended. After depositing her school attire in the hamper, she slipped into the simple red dress. She couldn't go wrong with a dress like this; it could appear casual or slightly dressy which made it perfect for any occasion. She paired it with her tangerine belt and a cream colored cardigan with roses adorning the neckline.
She glanced at her appearance in the mirror. Her hair was slightly frizzy from the humidity of the afternoon, but she had already decided to skip an evening shower, knowing that she'd want one before bed without a doubt. She brushed through her shoulder length locks and fixed her sagging bang swoop just as she heard the doorbell ring.
Carl grinned widely as she opened the door. He held a single white rose in his grasp, which he promptly handed to Emma.
She accepted the rose, bringing the gorgeous flower to her nose to show her appreciation. "It's lovely. Thank you, Carl. Would you like to come in for a minute?"
He nodded, stepping over the threshold. "Would you like me to take my shoes off?" he offered politely.
Emma glanced at his shiny loafers and then at the expanse of white carpet. She nodded, blushing slightly. He was too good to her.
He left his shoes by the door as Emma crossed the living room, placing the single white rose in the vase among the sea of red ones.
She saw Carl's face light up as he recognized his bouquet of flowers.
"They're beautiful—thank you," she addressed him, regarding the roses for the first time.
"Not as beautiful as you," he delivered the cliché line, causing Emma's cheeks to turn pink. He leaned in to brush his lips lightly against her cheek, his scruffy face brushing against her skin. He smelled like his usual mints and latex gloves, a scent Emma found comforting.
They walked toward the door, Carl replacing his shoes and Emma strapping on a pair of red Kate Spade heels to match her dress.
"Where are we going?" Emma asked, stepping into the warm June night. With the sun setting, the heat was not so unbearable.
"Well, I didn't have time to make reservations for any of the nicer places downtown," he told her, offering her his hand as she stepped down the stairs in front of her condo. She gingerly took it as he continued to speak, "so I thought we'd just eat at my place if that's okay with you." His offer was genuine, and Emma felt relieved that he hadn't decided to settle for an inferior restaurant; she could hardly force herself to eat at a place where she didn't trust the sanitary habits.
"That'd be really nice, Carl," she told him, her lips curving into a subtle smile.
Carl smiled back at him, his perfect teeth gleaming. He was no Will, but Carl was handsome. With his dark tousled hair and comforting hazel eyes, Emma found him attractive on many levels. Though she usually preferred cleanly shaven men, she didn't mind Carl's gruff stubble; she found it suited him well.
They made light conversation on the ride to Carl's apartment, mostly consisting of Carl asking Emma how things were at school. She answered with short, vague answers, evading the truth of the pain she suffered through daily.
"That Spanish teacher still bothering you?" Carl asked as they neared the apartment complex.
Emma cringed. Though she hadn't delved in the whole situation with Will, she had touched on it enough for Carl to become jealous of the man who still held her heart.
"Nope, I haven't really seen him recently," she answered too quickly, the lie seeping through her teeth.
Carl tactfully dropped the subject after that, parking the car in silence.
Emma hadn't been to Carl's apartment yet, so she found herself growing anxious as they entered the elevator on the main floor.
"Right down here," he told her, motioning for her to follow him down the hall once they reached the fifth floor.
He opened the door, revealing a tidy apartment with sparse but well chosen décor. The underlying smell of mints filled her nostrils as she entered the room. It wasn't very different from what she had expected.
She instinctively slipped her shoes off, and she watched Carl do the same.
"Would you like me to take your sweater for?" Carl offered. "Or are you going to keep it on?"
The apartment was a comfortable temperature, so Emma shrugged off the light cardigan, handing it to Carl.
"Kitchen's this way," he told her once her hung her sweater in the front closet. "I thought you might like to help me prepare dinner."
Though they had only been dating for a short while now, he was already beginning to pick up on her quirks, and it only made her heart hurt to realize just how much he cared.
They made a simple dinner—lemon chicken and a salad with strawberries, walnuts, and poppyseed dressing. Carl kept the conversation moving while they ate as he told Emma about his various patients. She listened appreciatively, glad that he could uphold the conversation. Though the frustration and anger from her conversation with Will had begun to fade, she still found she was not in a talkative mood this evening.
She gladly helped with the dishes, and soon the kitchen was restored to it's immaculate condition. Emma wrung the dishtowel through her hands, replacing it on the bar by the stove, waiting for Carl to speak.
"Do you want to stay for a little longer and watch a movie or something?"
She had anticipated an offer like this, and though a part of her was anxious to return to her own condo, shower, and snuggle beneath the blankets of her bed as she tried to block the day's events, she knew she hadn't agreed to this date with Carl just to follow through halfheartedly.
She nodded, joining him in the living room.
"I just have a lot of old Western movies," he apologized, scanning through his case of movies. "Is that okay with you?"
She nodded, watching as he placed Lonesome Dove into the player.
He joined her on the couch, leaving a small gap between their bodies. By the time the opening credits rolled on, she felt his hand slip into hers.
Only minutes into the movie, she caught him staring at her. She let her hair fall across her face, feeling embarrassed.
He reached over to tuck it behind her ear, tilting her chin up so he could see her eyes. "You're beautiful," he repeated the phrase he had uttered early, and Emma blushed once again, feeling uneasy from the undivided attention he was showering her with.
He kept his hand lightly beneath her chin, and the overwhelming smell of spearmint overcame her as he brought his mouth toward hers. She quickly turned her face at the last moment so his lips landed on her cheek instead.
"I'm—I'm sorry," she stuttered as he pulled away, looking slightly abashed.
"Don't worry about it." He forced a smile, and coughing awkwardly he added. "I have some extra toothbrushes and toothpaste under the cabinet in the bathroom if you'd like to freshen up."
Emma realized at once that he had attributed her reluctance to her mysophobia, and she felt a wave of relief as she realized she wouldn't need to explain her brash behavior.
She nodded, mumbling a quick "thank you" as she slipped into the bathroom down the hall.
Her cheeks felt hot as she leaned against the wall of the small bathroom. Her head swam as she felt the turmoil of emotions wash through her trembling body, having an overwhelming urge to get out of this relationship with Carl. Was Carl really so different than Will? As soon she got herself romantically involved, she was well aware that she was compromising everything she had—everything she was worth. And it scared her so much to think she might get hurt. She pushed away the unwanted memories that began to infiltrate her mind—memories she had tried so hard to block, but they seemed to be haunting her more and more in these past few months.
She took in a shaky breath, distracting herself by glancing at the interior of the bathroom. It was typical bathroom decor—pale blue walls, a small seashore painting on one of the walls, and a matching blue soap dispenser and towels.
She hesitantly opened the vanity cabinet, revealing that Carl did indeed keep spare brushing supplies under the sink. Though he had offered her a mint after dinner, she could still taste the chicken and salad lining her teeth. She popped a toothbrush out of its plastic covering and squeezed a healthy portion of toothpaste onto the the bristles.
The simple act of brushing comforted her, and as she she spit the frothy blue foam into the sink, she felt her stomach settle considerably.
As she joined Carl, who was now mesmerized in the Western film, she realized that though she had calmed herself enough to keep from having a panic attack, she was in no way ready to sit through the long movie with Carl.
She coughed lightly as she approached the couch, standing over him with a pleading look on her face.
"You okay, Emma?" he asked suddenly, pulling his attention away from the movie.
"My head hurts," she lied lamely, but she found herself hardly caring at this point. "Can you take me home?"
She must've looked pretty desperate because he immediately turned off the television, ushering out of the apartment without a question.
They were silent on the car ride home, and Emma found herself fidgeting with the tag of her cardigan she held in her lap.
"I hope you feel better, Emma," Carl took her sincerely, giving her hand a gently squeeze as he parked in front of her condo.
"Thanks, Carl." She managed a smile as she stepped out of the car. "I had a nice time."
She hurried to her room as soon as he left, throwing her dress and cardigan into the hamper though they were hardly even soiled. She entered the bathroom, catching her flushed reflection in the mirror.
God, she really did look awful.
A world-weary sigh escaped her chest as she stepped into the shower, turning the dial as hot as it went, trying in vain to wash away her brokenness.
A/N: You guys are awesome. Seriously. Keep up the positive feedback; it gets me writing faster ;)
Just wanted to say a quick thanks to my anonymous reviewers: The Duchessina, Ress, Alyssa, and Melissa.
I love me some angst, haha. And you won't have to deal with Carl and Emma for much longer, I promise :)
