It took Edward a while to realize Emmett was joking. When he did, the anxiety that'd been brewing and simmering in the pit of his stomach was eased, but immediately afterwards, a sour taste flooded his mouth, reeking of disappointment and crushed hopes.
He did want to invade Emmett's personal space— and have a drink and make himself at home and put some other dozen metaphorical ideas into practice. However, the truth (and he'd only seemed to really understand that after he'd said it) was that intrinsically attached to his doubts over whether his neighbor would really want to be involved with someone like him was the fear that he would do it out of malice.
And still, it almost hurt to think about it because Emmett was one of the kindest people he'd met up until now, and besides…
Edward really wanted to invade his personal space—this was a pretty good code for sex, he had to admit—just like those excessively enthusiastic people did in public, only he wanted to do that someplace private and appropriate and unsusceptible to water sprays.
Squinting in concentration, he lifted his gaze to the upper floor of Garrett's house and its row of glass windows, goldened by the lamplight from inside. One of them showed only a pair of curtains that blocked the sight of whatever the hell was happening in the room, and the others…
The others left little to the imagination, and with a quick, embarrassed glance at them, Edward turned back to Emmett, cringing inwardly at the vision of the two of them lying on—on béchamel-tainted sheets like a pair of idiots who didn't live across each other and had every single opportunity to do whatever they wanted, anytime they wanted.
Except when the grey-haired lady from the first floor came around to complain about the noise, but that was nothing one of his most secret kinks couldn't solve.
He must have looked deep in thought because suddenly, Emmett's glinting blue eyes enlarged, his hold on his hand tightening.
"Oh, God. You're really considering it. Wait, you— I know "Lie to Me" is probably bullshit, but I've learned some things. Are you actually making plans?"
Yes, even with your ridiculously sculpted chest shoved in my face. I am rather impressed with myself.
"You haven't eaten lasagna in your bed recently, have you?"
"I hope that's not code for fucking."
"The point of codes is to refrain from being too blunt, you know."
Emmett chuckled, but there was a hint of wary soberness in his eyes that Edward couldn't help but be silenced by. It occurred to him that just a minute before, he'd been stressing over what'd appeared to be a complete lack of certainty, and now he couldn't help but wonder if all this time he'd just been hackneying the Cartesian method.
"Are you sure about this?"
He thought about it for a few seconds. People with phobias tended to overestimate probabilities, which didn't mean that at least some of their fear wasn't legitimate. It just meant that they normally amplified the danger of doing things to the point of missing out on some pretty grand moments.
Edward nodded, his insides warm and fuzzy with anticipation.
"Yeah, I'm sure. If you are, too."
Emmett grinned, and now that the reality of his new relationship status had finally swept over him, Edward smiled back, for once totally unconcerned about anything but the fact that if he didn't get his boyfriend out of his damp, clingy clothes, he'd probably get sick.
Or not. Cold water didn't really cause sickness.
But it was a good enough excuse to convince Emmett.