Perhaps he would.
Three simple words: Perhaps I would. In front of him, she stood rooted in a near trance for far too long - as far as she's concerned. Now she's hold up in a small powder room behind the basement bar. And taking far longer to wash her hands than she ever has in her life.
Outside the door, shouts and cheers from the spirited game of Bullshit continue on. Introducing Killian to her hoard of cousins had been a breeze. The young adults and teens were a bit fascinated with the foreigner and quickly invited the couple to join them in the card game. Davey had opened his mouth as the cards were shuffled and Killian took a particular interest in his assurances that Emma has an uncanny knack for reading people. He had instantly opted out of the dealing and settled himself over her shoulder. Cousins filled in around the long expanse of bar excitedly. Bullshit provided the younger kids the unbridled chance to curse - which they all welcomed with fervor.
Emma tucked herself into one corner, Killian angling himself over her left shoulder. His oddly sea reminiscent scent tempted her to lean back into him; tempted her to let that intoxicating mix of salt, oak - and what was that? rum? - wash over her. God, she needed a stiff drink.
Aside from the alluring fragrance, Emma could feel that stupid scarf he was wearing resting against her back. Stupid only because she'd found herself thinking about how it would feel to grab him by it and haul him to her. She'd found herself debating whether or not the fabric would be smooth or rough to the touch. The game cycled around the bar a number of times before she realized she hadn't called one person on their bullshit yet.
Realizing she was far passed rattled, she made her move to excuse herself to the bathroom. Killian gladly took up her place - even if the look in his eye had held a minute sliver of disappointment. Almost as if he were a puppy being left on his lonesome.
Wrenching her mind from perhaps, green eyes lock with their twins in the large bathroom mirror. Emma allows herself a final few moments to breathe, taking chunks of her golden locks between her fingers and braiding them together across the top of her head. Securing the braid with a skinny red hair tie abandoned on the smooth sink counter, she took one last look in the mirror.
Finally emerging from the tiny bathroom, Emma does her best to go unnoticed as the room - mostly full of boys - continues to clamor animatedly over each turn of the game. The commotion, such a ruckus, Emma assumes the game must be nearing its end. She skirts around the bar, doing her best to avoid the eerie gravitational pull she feels towards the handsome Irishman. His face comes into full view when she rounds the opposite corner of the bar.
She has barely a moment to consider how quickly she was willing to admit to herself that he was handsome, when his eyes look over and meet with hers. And the way he looks at her damn near takes her breath away. Beautiful, brilliantly blue eyes clearly take in Emma's altered hair styled. His appreciation was evident in his expression. As much as she felt like her breath had been stolen from her, he looked almost as if he had been rightly sucker punched.
Averting her eyes, Emma goes about refilling everyone's soda. The next time her eyes pass Killian's direction, he is down to a few cards at best. Steven is perched at the end of the bar where she is pouring drinks, two cards left in his hand.
The instant after Davey drops his two jacks, Steven's tongue finds its way between his teeth. Barely noticeable to the untrained eye but the set to his jaw that comes with it is so reminiscent of their father that she has to do her best to subdue a chuckle. Aside from his inherited tongue munching, he had also failed to call his own little brother's bluff.
Emma caps the bottle of Sprite she had just poured his drink from and waits. His acting needs work, her brother might be able to pull one over on a single person from time to time - she likes to think she taught him that much - but under the intense attention of entire room, he was beginning to splinter at the edges. And when he tosses down his one queen, she pounces.
"Bullshit."
Steven's gaze snaps to Emma instantly, "Excuse me?"
Emma sets his freshly poured Sprite in front of him, the ends of her eyebrows lifting, silently challenging him. Jamie is now spectating and struggling to silence her giggles from the other end of the bar. Each sibling, so fiercely competitive that any sort of competition has a tendency to get out of hand. Ensuring an entertaining viewer experience for everyone else.
"Do you need me to say it again?" When all he does is look back at her, she leans forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the marble countertop. "Bull. Shit."
Steven is absolutely indignant, "Shut up. You're not even playing!"
"Those are my cards," she counters, pointing at a smirking Killian. "I am completely at liberty to call bullshit on their behalf."
Emma knew regardless if she was right, as one of the eldest, the room would side with her. Should have thought about that before you went telling stories, huh bro? She tries her best to communicate that through her gaze.
"But - "
"Her cards. Her boyfriend. Her call." Tyler, one of her twin cousins, interjects. The label boyfriend striking her immediately before…
"DINNER!" Her stepmother's honeyed voice carries down the stairs and rouses the basement occupants.
The youngest of her cousins, Joey, pops his head as quick as he can over the counter to assess the status of the game. His tiny voice immediately ringing out, "Killian wins!"
Steven slams the cards he had just gathered back down on the counter. On contact with the marble, they fly every which way. Emma can't help but enjoy the moment of frustration. Her smile grows as everyone around her makes for the stairs.
Taking her time to clean up the mess of cards left behind, Emma can't help but hear Tyler over and over again in her mind. Boyfriend, this shouldn't be something that affects her so much. Especially considering that was the entire reason she had brought him here: to pretend to be her boyfriend.
"Are we not following the dinner summons?"
Emma's head jerks up from her task to find Killian tentatively cleaning up empty and abandoned cups. He had rolled his burgundy shirt sleeves up to his elbows, his hair dusted forearms now magnificently on display for her eyes to watch hungrily. The muscles of his forearm dance with every flourish of his fingers. Returning her gaze to his, she forces away as many of those thoughts as she can.
"Oh, uh - I mean, you're more than welcome to." Confusion edges its way onto his defined features, "It's just… I figured I'd let the mass stampede do their thing first. Instead of adding to the congestion up there."
Killian nods and continues to gather cups, joining her behind the bar to dump them out in the sink. He finishes and leans back against the counter next to her. The hair on the back of Emma's neck stands up, she can feel him watching her intently.
"Your cousins are amusing. But why, may I ask, do I feel like you're hiding away? It just seems a little counter intuitive considering our arrangement."
"It's just…" She tries her best to explain what is going through her mind. Pulling up way short of mentioning how being within two feet of him is making it hard to concentrate on breathing let alone maintaining this ruse. She thinks she adequately walks him through her history with her parents, providing him the most basic of information with which to paint a picture. The picture of the fool her father believes her to be.
"Listen," his large, calloused hand finds its way over hers, blanketing hers in a warmth that spreads up her arm. "I know you - we, don't know all that much about each other. You certainly don't know everything there is to know about me. And I get the feeling that this is a tough ask of me but… you gotta trust me."
A shiver raced from the bottom to the top of her spine like bolt of lightning. She prays that he couldn't feel the shudder it sent through her entire body.
"I want to make you one promise." Emma finally glances back up at his too blue eyes. "If anyone is to leave here a fool tonight, it will most certainly not be you."
"Thanks." She mumbles and she can't help the sudden stinging in her eyes. Extricating her hand from under his, she wraps her slender fingers around his. They squeeze his softly before Emma turns to finally follow the frenzied basement dwellers up the stairs. As she makes it to the landing, she looks back, "C'mon, I thought you were hungry," she teases.
Killian chuckles to himself. He's fully aware this could become quite the long night. Impressing a room full of young people was a cake walk. Especially when one looks like he does and has an entertaining accent to boot. But dazzling a few rooms full of adults would be another thing entirely. A challenge he is most certainly up for. But he was beginning to question just what it will take to get his girlfriend through her night. He could already tell there's a bit more to the story he'll probably never get from Emma herself; he also sensed something else brewing in that beautifully blonde head of hers.
Removing his discarded leather jacket from the back of a bar stool, Killian follows Emma. Before he can reach the first step, a tall figure steps out from the open doorway at the bottom of the stairwell, stopping and leaning against the doorframe.
"We need to talk."
(There might be a large handful of extra mistakes in this chapter. It's my longest yet and I'm too anxious to get it posted and too tired to reread it right now. Apologies.
I'm hoping to get on a more consistent posting schedule & I'm tentatively planning 10 chapters. This is my first fanfic and I'd reallyyy LOVE some feedback and/or constructive criticism! I genuinely would like to get better.
Much love, thank you for reading! xx)
