Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns all.
Rated M for several reasons.
Chapter Eight Ladies and Gentleman, Emmett Whitlock
RPOV
Mom and Dick were waiting in the lobby.
I hadn't told her that I had a boyfriend, never mind that he was coming to dinner so her eyes went wide when she saw us holding hands.
Dick's went narrow.
I daren't look at Em.
Or move.
Em tugs me forward.
"Mrs King, Mr King. How lovely to meet you both."
He extends his hand to Mom who takes it looking a little dazed and then to Dick who takes it and manages to look supercilious right up until the point Em squeezes, then his expression turns wince.
Nice. He has got very big, very hard hands, hasn't he Dick?
"Mom, this is Emmett, Whitlock, my boyfriend, he wanted to come and meet you tonight."
Yeah, I don't address Dick if I can help it, Mom's not gonna be surprised, it was one of the things we were always fighting about toward the end.
"Well, Emmett." Mom laughs uncertainly. "We certainly weren't expecting you."
"Nobody expects me Mrs King." Em chuckles. "I'm special like that."
"Well." Dick huffs. "I only booked a table for three but I'll see if they can manage something for us, this is a very select and expensive restaurant."
Oh Dick. You are such a dick.
"I'm sure they will." Em agrees easily. "My parents love it here, they come all the time, my mother and Chef Maurice are always swapping recipes."
"Your parents?" Mom asks with no guile whatsoever as we follow Dick's rigid back over to the maƮtre d'.
"My father is Chief of Medicine at the hospital and my mother is a designer, you may have seen some of her work, in New York? Alice Brandon is the name she designs under."
"Goodness." Mom mutters and I stifle another laugh.
Mom is a wannabe snob and anything really impressive always throws her back to her red neck roots. Even I've heard of Alice Brandon and it wouldn't surprise me to find out she was Em's Mom.
Mom starts asking me about school and friends and Em gives my hand a squeeze before moving closer to Dick, practically breathing down his neck.
Dick shivers.
Not nice is it, when someone bigger than you gets all up in your space?
"So." Em says loudly, slapping a big hand down on Dick's shoulder. "Rose tells me you drive a Porsche?"
I didn't, did I?
"Poor man's Ferrari, how's that working out for you?" Em continues.
"He's very handsome." Mom murmurs into my ear, reminding me she's there and making me jump. "But then you always did have a good eye."
Her own eyes dart to Dick and my burgeoning warm feeling toward her evaporates immediately.
When it all blew up Mom chose to believe that her seventeen year old daughter had been putting the moves on her man. The only thing I can say in her defence is that if he's nothing else Dick is a master manipulator. It probably says more about my shortcomings as a daughter that in my heart of hearts I don't think that's much of a fucking defence.
As if sensing the change in my mood Em abandons his Dick baiting and moves back to me, taking my hand slowly and carefully, just like he did outside.
And it's okay, I can do this, I can let him help me a bit, just for tonight.
...
Dinner was awkward, even Mom wasn't stupid enough not to notice that Em really didn't like Dick.
But it could have been worse, he was so focussed on getting one over the cocky kid he had no attention to spare for me. No looks, no invading my personal space whenever he got the chance, no touching, no hissed words of vilification when Mom wasn't close enough to hear.
In fact I wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that the man who'd made the last few years of my life hell suddenly didn't even seem to know I existed.
Relieved, I guess?
Em and Dick toyed with each other and Mom and I at least managed to have some semblance of a normal conversation. It's difficult to explain how you can love someone and at the same time want them crying at your feet, begging forgiveness for a crime you no longer care they committed.
At the beginning of the meal Mom had made noises about an after dinner stroll down the boardwalk but by the end I think she was as relieved as I was that it was over and we could part ways.
Em shook their hands again.
Mom hugged me.
And the real Dick came back, moving in for his before I had a chance to dodge him.
I cowered but it never came and when I opened my eyes Em's arm was across Dick's chest, his face lowered to be right in Dick's.
"I am so sorry." Em murmurs. "I have absolutely tragic possessiveness issues. Like a fucking caveman. It's probably for the best if you don't do that again, ever, whether I'm present or not."
Mom, Dick and I are all looking at Em's face and I'm not sure I can find a word for the expression on it. Murderous or threatening really wouldn't do it justice.
It makes me shiver and I choose to think a little bit of pee may have escaped Dick's dick to drip down his violently shaking leg.
Anyway, it killed the fatally injured evening stone dead and Em carefully took my hand again, leading me outside.
"Stroll?" He asks and I nod, I could really do with some fresh air.
...
The drive back to Forks is silent but not uncomfortable and when he drops me home I linger in the truck for a moment, summoning the courage to look him directly in the eye.
"Thank you." I whisper.
He nods, still looking a little serious and I slide out of the truck, more than happy to forget about the rest of our deal so that things can get back to normal.
"Are you working tomorrow?" He asks before I shut the door.
I nod.
"See you after work then Rose." He says with an almost apologetic smile. "And thank you."
I close the door and hurry inside.
"Fuck." I groan, shutting the door and letting my head bang against it. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
"That good huh?" Dad asks, appearing from the kitchen with a beer in his hand and one for me.
I take it gratefully, guiltily wondering how long it will take him to notice that I stole his booze.
"Your Mom's been on already, demanding to know why I didn't tell her you had a boyfriend and why you have a boyfriend whose mission in life is to scare the shit out of Rich's saggy ass."
"Um?"
"Never mind Rose." He sighs, flicking my drinking elbow lightly. "Not tonight, let's go see what's weird on TV."
...
I slept like a log and woke up looking like one.
Em's turning up at some point this afternoon is as inevitable as the sun going down some time after, that much I am confident of about him.
My brain tells me to head down to La Push after work and take Dad up on his long standing fishing invitation but something else has me driving home to pace the house like a caged lion.
I know I should play it coy and not let him see that I was waiting for him but when his truck swings into the drive I automatically yank the door open to greet him.
His smile, another new variant of it, is a bit shy as he climbs the porch steps easily.
He really is take your breath away gorgeous.
Short dark hair, just on the edge of curling. For a big guy the planes of his face are sharp and angular, chiselled is the word I think. His lips are full and perfectly formed. And the rest of him is just . . . . broad shoulders, narrow hips, muscles hinted at but never exposed.
Oh for the love of god Rose, snap out of it.
I stand back to let him in, gesturing him round to the kitchen with a scowl.
"Sit down." I suggest and he folds himself gracefully onto one of our craptastic wobbly chairs.
I lean against the counter and fold my arms.
No way am I making whatever this is easy for him.
"You're not going to make this easy for me are you?" He observes.
My snort confirms that and he smirks, cocky again.
"Fine Rosalie Hale. I can do hard. I have always been a little bit different, nothing much in common with the people I go to school with. You probably know how that feels?"
"I'm not different, I'm just the biggest bitch."
"It sets you apart though, doesn't it? Being that honest."
"There's nothing honest about why I'm a bitch."
"There is if you know why. Most people can't even see their failings, never mind understand why they have them." He says quietly, his mesmerising gold eyes daring me to argue.
So I shrug instead, which makes him laugh.
"Do you know how many girls have come onto me in my lifetime?" He asks.
No, and I don't want to you egotistical shit.
"Quite a few."
Another shrug from me, this one of the sarcastic variety.
"Do you know how many I've dated?"
Eyebrow.
"None."
"Pfft."
"None."
"Do you know how many I've hooked up with?"
"Here's a quarter." I growl, finessing one off the counter so I can brandish it at him like a finger. "Go call someone who gives a fuck."
"One. Do you want to know why?"
"Did she have big tits?"
"No, they were like fried eggs actually."
"You are such a boy."
"Yes I am. But I'm not a boy that's prone to flinging his woo."
Woo? What the fuck is woo?
"I don't date and I don't hook up because I'm picky."
"Go you." I drawl, getting that horrible sick feeling in my stomach again.
"I'm waiting for that special someone."
"I take it you're hiding your purity ring from the girls at school?"
"Oh Rose, I'm no virgin, believe me."
Oh I do, and damn, that's hot.
"I like you Rose. You're an incredibly beautiful woman, it infuriates my inner caveman every time those boys at school drool over you. And I've come to care about you. My inner caveman badly wanted to use his club on Dick's soft little skull. You're smart, you're funny, you're brave and you're strong. I admire you. I want you to be mine."
My breathing hitches, then my mouth opens and closes, my palms get sweaty and my stomach tries to evacuate the danger zone.
Mine.
There was an edge to the way he said that.
Panic. I can feel it creeping up on me, and not very stealthily.
"Breathe Rose." He urges quietly, the soft caress of his tone calming me despite myself. "I want to take care of you. I want to be able to ensure that no one can ever hurt you again, do my best to make you happy. I want to be there the next time you need help, if I couldn't have done anything to stop you needing it in the first place. I want a lot of things with you Rose, that I know I shouldn't. But it gets harder and harder every day for me to stay away from you. What I want most from you, right now, is a chance. A chance to prove that the way you see the world doesn't have to be right."
"Are you fucking insane?" I hiss. "You want me to be your girlfriend? Have you fucking met me recently? I can't do that. I can't kiss you, I can't cuddle you, I can't even be nice to you. I'm fucking useless. Ruined."
He surges out of the chair, growling, and I try to scale the cupboards onto the counter to get away from him, my heels scrabbling uselessly against the wood.
"You. Are. Not. Ruined!" He roars. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"You know." I challenge him, acknowledging the truth in a way I didn't know I was capable of.
"I'm sorry." He whispers, gazing into my eyes for a moment before taking himself back to his chair. "I'm sorry for scaring you again. But not for telling you what I want."
"I can't be your girlfriend Em." I mumble brokenly. "I can't be anybody's girlfriend. And I'm sorry too."
Stupid fat tears are sliding down my face and with a groan Em approaches me again, cautiously lifting his thumbs to wipe them gently from my cheeks, being careful to remove his hands as quickly as possible.
"What if I can't really do those things either?" He asks, not quite pulling out of my personal space. "What if I can't kiss you or hold you the way I'd like too? What if I have my own demons to wrestle?"
I sigh, I don't want to be the bitch right now but I've crafted my armour well.
"Em, go find some other charity case to patronise."
I scrub my hands over my face, the tears don't seem to want to let up.
"I patronise a lot of charities Rose. Whales. Rainforests. Starving kids. Snow leopards. I'm an equal opportunities patroniser. I don't want to give you money or run in a stupid costume in your name. I just want you to be my girlfriend and work shit out with me."
"You're killing me Whitlock."
"No, I'm not." He says, slowly and carefully twining our hands together again.
