Chapter IV

"Need a hand?" Will asked as he stepped up beside the car.

"No," Emma spat immediately, knowing her actions were childish, but she could hardly make herself care. It figured that of all the faculty members who could've stayed late, the teacher who had stayed behind just had to be Will.

He grimaced slightly, resting his hand against the shiny black hood. "Well, I can hardly leave you here to fend for yourself," he mumbled, earning a glower from Emma as she folded her arms across her chest in frustration. "Do you have any idea what might be wrong?"

She sighed heavily, reluctantly admitting the problem through gritted teeth, "Out of gas." The flush that rose to her cheeks was inevitable.

He laughed, only causing her frustration to rise as she folded her arms across her chest like a petulant child. Of course this would amuse him; Emma hardly let a situation, especially one as manageable as this, slip through her fingers.

"Well, what do you plan to do if you won't allow me to help?" She could tell her stubbornness was feeding his humorous remarks, but she couldn't muster the maturity to relinquish her obstinate attitude. "Walk home? Or wait for an oil well to spring up in the middle of the parking lot?"

She scowled, flipping her hair away from her face as she refused to look at him. "I'll, um, you know, manage..." she trailed off unconvincingly.

He chuckled again. Why did he have to be so damn attractive when he smiled like that? She tore her gaze from his face as the fluttering in her heart betrayed her true emotions.

"Em, listen to me." His voice held a more serious tone now; he searched her face in attempt to make eye contact, but she continued to stare at her feet. "Let me give you a ride. We can go back to my apartm—"

"Will!" she shrieked, his name trilling off her tongue. Her anger rose, spilling out into her words. "How dare you even suggest—"

"Jeez, Em," Will cut her off, taking in a deep breath as though his even intake of air might somehow calm her as well. "Can you stop biting my head off for thirty seconds so I can explain?"

She did not soften her glare, but she tactfully kept her mouth closed as he spoke. "Unless you have a container in your trunk to pump the gas into, we're going to have to make a quick stop at my apartment to pick one up. Then we can go to the gas station to fill it up and bring it back here."

Oh.

She licked her lips, chewing on his words. He was being more than rational, but annoyance continued to tug at her gut. "That's, um, nice of you to offer, Will, but I'm sure someone else will be able to, uh, give me a hand..." Her words became more unconvincing by the minute.

"Emma, it's after five o'clock," he attempted to reason with her, the frustration now evident in his own voice. "No one's here. Can you please just let me help? Just as one helpful faculty member to another?"

"Fine," she muttered, locking her own car as she stomped behind Will in the direction of his parked car.

"There." His smile was small but triumphant. "Was that really so hard?" Her face twisted as she opened her mouth, but he promptly cut her off. "Don't answer that, actually. I promise you won't have to spend very much time with me. You can even wait in the car when I run up to my apartment to grab the container if you want."

She chose not to reply, groaning when she realized she had left her bag tucked in the backseat of her car. She stared at the door handle to Will's car, tears brimming in her eyes as she longed for her Clorox wipes.

"Can we go back to my car for a minute?" she whispered hoarsely, afraid that her frustration and anger would send her tears over the edge if she spoke any louder.

"What is it, Em?" Will's voice was filled with more concern than it should've been. He stepped closer to her, and she turned her face away to hide her tears.

He knew her too well. It only took a moment for her minor crisis to register in Will's mind.

"I'll get the door for you, Em," he nearly chuckled, the relief evident in his tone as he realized it was nothing catastrophic. Emma bit her lip, her bitterness tasting vile in her mouth. "It will be a short ride, so you shouldn't need anything from your car. But we can go back if you really want to."

A violent gust of wind answered the question for them. Will quickly opened the door for her as they felt streaks of rain begin to lash through the sky.

Emma was glad to escape the safety of the storm, even if her refuge was the much dreaded interior of Will's car. It wasn't clean, but it wasn't dirty either, she noticed as she looked at the manageable clutter that lined the back seat and the floor.

"So why are you here so late, anyway?" Will asked, attempting to make light conversation as the pair buckled up, driving into the stormy evening.

"Just getting everything organized," she mumbled, caving more quickly than she planned. "I should ask you the same thing."

"Same as you. Last minute grades to enter and a classroom to clean up. And really, I have no reason to rush home. It's a little less lonely to spend the evening in my classroom."

Emma grimaced. He wasn't playing fair, and the guilt settled in her stomach from the regret in his words. But then, why should she be the one feeling guilty? It was his own fault—his own damn fault, and it wasn't fair of him to play her emotions this way. Especially with Carl still in the picture.

Her mouth twitched, and before she could rein them in, her words spewed from her open lips. "Stop it, Will. Just stop. You have no right to make me guilty like this—I know it hurts. I know damn well it hurts." She noticed him flinch slightly as she swore, but she continued, brushing off his reaction. "But did you see me playing dirty when you were still married to Terri? Yes, I know that I could've been a lot less obvious about the way I felt about you, but I kept a distance from you—a healthy respect for the relationship you were in. And it's not fair, Will. I'm in a relationship with Carl right now, and you have to respect that. My relationship with Carl is just as real as yours was with Terri, and—and it doesn't matter how you feel about me. It's not appropriate for you to keep throwing yourself at me..." Her voiced faded, the outburst tasting fiery in her mouth. She blinked rapidly to keep her frustrated tears from spilling over.

She wasn't entirely sure how she expected him to react to her outburst—stunned silence like the when she had destroyed his reputation? A declaration of love like in the hallway only a week ago? But he only sighed, averting his eyes from the road as he turned to take a glance at her. "You're right, Em. Absolutely right. I've been out of line, especially when I kissed you—and even now as I continue to pursue you. I want you to be happy, Emma, I really do, and if that happiness doesn't include me in the picture, than I'm willing to deal with this. If Carl is who you want, than who I am to stop you? But I just want you to know how I feel about you." His voice cracked slightly; Emma felt her own throat grow heavy. "I want you to know that I do love you, Emma. That I never meant to hurt you, and I will try my hardest to never cause you pain again. You deserve to know that, no matter how much it hurts you—no matter how much you want to deny it. And I know you think it's unfair of me to tell you this right now, but think how unfair it would be to me if I let you go without you knowing. Go to Carl, Emma, if that's what truly makes you happy, but please don't make your final decision without considering my words."

Will had parked the car in the lot outside, but neither of the two made a move to exit the vehicle.

Emma couldn't remember how to breathe. Her breath hitched in her throat as his words pounded through her. The mixture of anger and longing was hard to distinguish, but as she attempted to sort through the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her mind, she realized one thing. It wasn't Will she was angry at; it was never Will. It was herself she was angry at—for being so weak, for wanting him so much, for allowing everything about him to wound her so deeply.

"I hate myself," she whispered into the stale air of the car, hiding behind her hair as the tears began to spill thickly from her swollen eyes.

"Em, please, don't say that," Will begged her, turning in his seat to face her. She knew her reaction startled him; he had been expecting another heated outburst. In truth, she had been prepared to give him just that, but as the realization hit her, she couldn't put the blame on him any longer.

"No, Will," she choked, staring at the windshield as the heavens opened, thrashing heavy sheets of rain across the glass. "I've been awful—to everyone. To you. To Carl. Even to Ken. I get scared...I get scared when I get hurt, and it makes me act selfishly, and I hate myself for that..."

"Emma," his voice pleaded with her, soft and soothing, and she could only imagine what his face looked like, though she still refused to look. She knew once glance into his compassionate gaze would send her into hysterics. He repeated her name, "Emma. Please."

She glanced toward him, his expression worse than she was prepared for. She stifled a sob, only sounding like a wounded animal as it escaped through her clenched teeth.

"You have no reason to hate yourself. You been hurt, Emma, and when you're hurt, your first instinct is to protect yourself. I know you, Emma. You're not sitting around, sadistically thinking of ways to hurt...us," he grudgingly placed himself into the same grouping as Ken and Carl. Emma gulped in a breath, staring at his face through her watery gaze. "We all make mistakes—and we're all weak, and you can't beat yourself up about it."

His words calmed her, though she hated that he was making her a saint. What had she done to deserve him? He was rooted in compassion, and he cared about her much more than he had ever let on until this point. She had always known that, hadn't she? That Will was a good man—more than a good man. He was the one man that Emma had picked from the sea of others, the one whom she had slowly allowed herself to trust. He had broken that trust, but he was only human, she reminded herself. Just like her. Just like her, he was prone to weakness. Like any other person. She had spent so much time deifying him in her mind that she hadn't been prepared for him to turn out like everyone else.

Except he wasn't just like anyone else. He was Will. Her Will. He was the same Will who had spared a few extra minutes on the hectic first day of the school year to help her when she needed a friend. He was the same Will whom she had laughed with on countless occasions as their friendship grew throughout the years. He was the same Will who had remained faithful to his wife—despite the temptations—until she gave him a reason to relinquish his fidelity. He was the same Will who had hurt her in his own dark, confusing time—during a time when he had allowed Emma to see a side of himself she didn't know existed. And somehow, the hurt he had inflicted upon her made him real—no longer was Will the intangible infatuation she had chased after for years, safe behind the barrier his marriage offered. And he was real to her now, pain creasing his face, silently begging for her forgiveness. He had proved to her that he was just as human as any other person, able to hurt her in a heart beat, but he had also proved that his devotion, his will to fight against his human err was stronger. He would fight for her—she was worth fighting for—a realization that sent her heart flying. But if she chose to ignore his advances, he would just as easily relinquish the fight to see her happy. He would give up his own happiness for hers.

Her heart swelled, turning to look at the man sitting beside her with a new reverence—a look of adoration that was now well earned. She laughed, ever so softly through her tears, as she remembered telling him she'd never be able to look at him the same. But it was true, she realized as her gaze locked with his surprised eyes. She wasn't looking at him the same way; as her eyes rested on his, she now saw so much more.

"What?" he finally asked, referring to the odd grin she wore on her face. She was surprised, and pleased, to see that he had been able to keep up with her roller coaster of emotions so well.

"It's just," she paused, trying to relay her new found revelation into words. "It's just that I've spent so much time convincing myself that men like you didn't exist."

"Men like me?" Will gaped, and she could feel the blush creep to her cheeks as he continued. "Emma, I'm nothing special...I just care about you," he floundered for the right words. She could tell that he was pleased, but a part of him wished to deny her claim. He was modest—and much too critical of his own faults, not unlike herself.

"You wouldn't believe how much just that matters to me," she muttered, regretting her words as soon as she spoke them. She retreated back into her shell, trying to protect the piece of herself she wished to forget.

Will did not miss the heaviness in her voice, or the way she flinched over her own words. But he was tactful enough to not to pry though the question was obvious in his eyes.

Who had hurt Emma so badly that she now held this skewed perception of men?

He sighed, a mixture of anger and curiosity in his words as he spoke, "Emma, anyone who doesn't care about you—" He stopped, her frantic expression warning him to go no further; the topic was clearly taboo.

The rain continued to pelt down, showing no sign of letting up in the near future. Across the seat divider, Will slowly moved his hand to where Emma's were resting, allowing the tips of his fingers to graze hers.

She locked her eyes with his, and he looked at her sadly. She hated feeling so vulnerable, and she hated that she had let her tightly welded façadecrack ever so slightly. She wasn't looking for sympathy.

"Don't look at me that way," she mumbled, glancing at Will through her thick lashes.

"Like what?" he defended himself immediately, the heavy tension in the car fading as he cracked a subtle smile. "I was just thinking about how beautiful you are right now."

She smiled, her cheeks growing warm. When had anyone ever uttered those words to her with such meaning? He reached out tentatively to tuck a flyaway hair behind her ear.

Her stomach dropped—partially from fear, partially from undeniable longing—as his face moved in closer to hers.

She closed her eyes, fighting internally with her raging emotions as she tried to settle her nerves, attempting to keep her cool as his breath ricocheted off her face.

Boom!

A loud clap of thunder caused the pair to jerk apart suddenly.

Will coughed, and Emma could tell he hoped he hadn't pushed it too far. After all, she had been yelling at him with unadulterated venom only a half hour before.

"Ready to go inside?" He asked her, turning in his seat to dig for an umbrella in the back seat.

She nodded, remembering their original intent. The encounter in the parking lot already felt like a distant memory.

Will stepped out from the car, fanning the umbrella out in front of him as he shielded himself from the storm. He hurried to Emma's side of the car, fighting the vicious winds with his fragile umbrella.

"We're going to have to make a run for it," he muttered as he opened Emma's door, a flash of lightening followed closely by another crash of thunder ripping through the darkened sky.

Emma nodded, taking Will's hand without hesitation as he helped her from the car into the raging storm.

A/N: A speedy update for you! As always, I really appreciate to know what you think!

This isn't at all like this chapter was supposed to turn out, but I think it worked out nicely, yes? :)

Thanks to my anonymous reviewers: Carlie, LS, lodvg, Honest Reviewer, and again to the reviewer who left no name.

And to Alyssa: I'm glad you don't really hate me. Hopefully this chapter satisfied you :)