BEDTIME STORIES WITH BRENNAN MULWRAY
Chapter 1
Emma twirled her glass round her index finger and thumb, and applied pressure on the stem until she was certain it would break. Hard. She gritted her teeth. He was doing it again. It was his idea to come to the club when she didn't want to. She wasn't much of a club person. Too careful, too introverted, her parents had said, but of course that was before they even knew she had powers. She liked people in twos and threes (or duplets and triplets, as she liked to call them), where she could manage them in carefully packaged sets of emotions over tidy conversations - not like this where the stark frenzy of neon-clad dancers threatened to engulf her like some tribal emphatic orgy.
It was enough to make her go ballistic. And now, to salt her wounds, he had done it again.
'You need to chill out,' he had said before they had ended up in his Camaro, driving to this new warehouse club place that was the rage of Generation Y.
'But I don't really want to go with you,' she complained. 'You always hook up with some floozy and I'm left there at the bar. Alone.'
He laughed. Right in her face. The audacity!
'Emma,' he smiled, his brown eyes smiling with him. 'Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?' He patted her on the head, like she was some puppy dog. How dare he? She clenched her fists 'Men will be swarming to dance with you.' He made a buzzing sound. 'Like bees. They'll be lining up. And you'll be begging me to fend them away.'
'Not that it's ever happened,' she muttered, but felt oddly pleased anyway. And went to get her red jacket, the one that brought out the green in her eyes.
And now here he was, smooching up with some floozy - some blond-haired floozy at that - and leaving her all alone at the bar. Clutching her glass. Making her regret it was coke and not something harder, just because someone had to be responsible enough not to get drunk enough to drive home.
He can't help it, she told herself. He's Brennan Mulwray. He was born that way, and even if he wasn't, somewhere along - between gym exercises and a healthy growth spurt - he got made that way. When he walked into a room, people sat up and noticed. Women and gay men did double takes. Eyes were riveted to him, to that form, that body, that face.
The gods had been kind to Brennan Mulwray. Too kind perhaps, she thought, when they made him.
It wasn't just his imposing height (he dwarfed almost everyone she knew). It wasn't just that body any model and porno star would give his eye teeth (and pecs) for. Or his perfect features, with his warm brown eyes and that slight Latino cast which made him all the more intoxicating (even though he was Irish). Brennan had a charisma that eclipsed most movie stars, and this had absolutely nothing to do with his looks. He had so much wattage he didn't need to be an electrical mutant to make it obvious.
She wondered how he had ever made it as a career criminal. He was way too conspicuous.
And it wasn't as if he was overtly vain. If he was aware people were staring at him, he shrugged it off in a 'they've been staring all my life, it's no big deal' attitude. Like now. Just slow dancing with the floozy Emma made a mental note not to call women that next time, this was the last exception, other women around him were turning their heads. Looking. Just like she was. She shook herself. It wasn't as though she was attracted to him or anything, she knew him TOO well for that, but he was nice eye candy. Besides, he was a little too old for her, and he was definitely a pain. Most of the time.
Pain didn't even begin to describe him. He teased her mercilessly, and more recently, he had this super macho complex that was overprotective and overbearing, to say the least. He could be terribly condescending and he certainly had chauvinistic tendencies. He even ratted on her once. But she forgave him, because time and again, he always came through for her. She couldn't count how many times he had saved her life. Just like she had saved his. When you had gone through war together, you could get real forgiving.
And besides, he had the hots for Shalimar.
Their relationship was plain...weird, come to think of it. It was so obvious they liked each other more than the usual war bond/team mate friendship. She didn't have to be an empath to see that. But she wasn't sure if it was mere lust. After all, they were two volatile, impassioned and very attractive people. Lust could do that to people. Made them rage full of hormones, like they were on permanent PMT, until they thought they were in love. But they really weren't. It would all be sizzling sex between Bren and Shal - hot, sensuous and wetly dripping with pages found in erotic novels - they would have a big fight after 6 weeks over attitude issues, and it would all be over.
Maybe they knew that. And they didn't want to risk it. They had a great friendship thing going on that was too huge to be risked.
She had once asked Shalimar about him. Shal had turned real defensive. Didn't want to talk about it, which was unlike her. She didn't need to read Shal to know there was a lot of hurt involved, hurt in the way that could only hurt so much you couldn't talk about it. Emma wasn't surprised. Bren and Shal both broke hearts, even if they didn't mean to; it was only apt they broke each other's.
And they both totally saw other people. Brennan worse than Shalimar. At least Shalimar was selective, even though sometimes she acted like a cat in heat. And at least she didn't get physical in her very brief relationships. Brennan had no such barriers. In fact, he was getting worse. Like he was drowning his hurt in one night stands that didn't mean anything to him other than convenient sex. Then when either one of them got hurt or threatened, they would run to each other and make up a bit, have a little caring/possessive interlude; then totally go back to hurting each other with their seeing other people.
It was a vicious hurt cycle. Emma wished they would get it over with and go back to being normal.
He was picking up blondes, women who looked like Shalimar. Or else he allowed blondes to pick him up. Like tonight. She stole a glance at the dance floor. Oh yes, they were now sucking face. The (not) floozy was groping his very nice behind, and he was reciprocating. Emma looked away. She would probably have to go home alone tonight. Nursing her embarrassing secret. Damn him.
She sipped her coke, feeling more morose than ever.
Someone tapped her on her shoulder. She turned round. A young man, average looking, wearing a nervous grin and a sweatshirt.
'Uh hi..do you want to dance?'
She made a mental calculation - this is not someone she would be attracted to long-term - made a decision swiftly and shook her head. 'No thanks.'
'Come on,' he persisted. 'It's just a dance.'
'I don't feel like dancing tonight.' She really didn't. She just felt..well, blah. Like she had been feeling for the past 2 weeks post Valentine's Day. Where they had spent going undercover infiltrating something Adam said was important, though she really couldn't be sure about Adam anymore and whether what he thought was important was really important. Or whether he had some hidden agenda that he would only reveal to them when they mutated, or something scary like that.
The world, lately, or at least it seemed to her, was coming to one big blah.
She noticed the hurt in the young man's eyes, and felt a pang of regret for having caused him pain. But it was only for an instant. Better now than be sorry later, she told herself.
'Is he bothering you?' She looked up to see Brennan looming over the young man's shoulder. My, that was quick. Where was Miss Suck Face?
'No, not at all.'
The young man took one nervous look at Brennan, and edged away. Emma had to smile. Bren could be real intimidating when he chose to. It was the size. 'You scared him away.'
Brennan laughed and took a seat next to her. 'Like I said I would, but only if you weren't having fun.'
'Where's your blonde friend?'
'We'll hook up later. I got her number. Told her I was with my best friend tonight and we're spending quality time.'
Emma felt another pang, a warm one this time. She felt a blush coming on. She always blushed too easily. 'Thanks, Bren.'
'It's just that you've been so blue lately. I can't put my finger on it.' Brennan looked embarrassed. 'Don't mean to pry, but if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you. Not that I'm super great with advice or anything.' He looked away.
'That really means a lot to me.'
There then came one of those awkward moments where nobody quite knew where to look or what to say. They had too much history together. She couldn't even get a conscious emotion into her head, there was thought block.
Emma averted her eyes and sipped her coke. Around them, the music crescendoed into something resembling wailing.
'But hey,' Brennan exclaimed suddenly, breaking the tension. 'Why don't we chill out of here and go for a drive or something? Then maybe stop for a couple of burgers and chocolate milkshakes?'
Emma smiled. He could be a darling sometimes. 'Sure. I like counting calories.'
She took his proffered hand it was so huge, her little one felt lost in it, and they got up to leave.
'And maybe you can tell me what's wrong, okay?' he murmured into her ear.
She took a deep breath. Yes, her secret. It was so embarrassing really. Not something she would tell Shal. Or anyone. She glanced at his warm brown eyes. When he looked like this, so sincere and earnest-like, a woman could tell him anything. Probably most of them did. She pitied them.
But she was feeling vulnerable tonight. And lonely. And she needed a catharsis of sorts. She needed to talk, to get it off her chest. And he was her best guy friend.
'Okay, I will tell you. But not here.'
'Fair enough, I'll drive.'
'No, you're sploshed. I'll drive.'
'I'm not sploshed, I can drive,' he dangled the keys out of her reach. 'Believe me Emma, when girls need to talk, it's best they don't drive.'
She rolled her eyes. They got into the car, and settled into a comfortable silence while he drove into nowhere in particular. It was very pleasant, this aimless driving. She could tell he liked driving, it gave him focus. Just like everything he did. He needed focus. She liked to think she contributed to some of that when she got him to join the team. That was a long time ago, when she was more innocent and he less so. She suddenly felt wistful. Nostalgia was such a bummer. It made her feel old.
The moon peeped from behind the clouds, bathing her hands in a soothing pale glow. She liked the night. Like Shalimar, who was predominantly nocturnal. In the day, the barrage of emotions from everyone around her assaulted her. She still wasn't that great at tuning everything out. Sometimes an errant emotion - especially a painful one - would crash through her careful defenses and she would feel...desperately, dangerously feel. So the night was like a balm of numbness after the torrid day. Sometimes numb was good.
He was slowing down. He had gone off road, the wheels were turning over bumpily. They drew to a halt under a copse of trees. It was a real quiet spot. She wondered how many women he had driven here in this car. If she didn't know him as well as she did, she would have gotten suspicious.
'Okay Emma,' he said, turning his full attention to her. 'I'm here if you want to talk.' He turned off the engine.
She took a deep breath.
He took her hand and looked into her eyes. 'You don't have to if you don't want to..'
Damn him. He looked so sincere. Even if she had misgivings in the first place, there was no turning back now. He was making her feel feminine and vulnerable, damn him.
'You'll laugh at me.' she began. 'It's so silly, really.'
'I won't..' he promised.
'It's just.just. ' she stammered, 'that I've been feeling..really blue lately. And it's.it's because..well, you know...I don't quite know how to put it...but after Valentine's Day..and ..you know...' She trailed off, embarrassed.
He stayed silent for a minute, seemingly gathering his thoughts. 'I think I know what you're going to say. You didn't have a date. We were working. None of us had dates.'
'Yeah, but even if we weren't working, I wouldn't have had a date anyway,' she said miserably.
He nodded. 'A lot of girls I know get real uptight around Valentine's Day. Especially the 2 weeks preceding it. It's normal.'
'No, it gets worse. It's just that..I was thinking how..' She closed her eyes, '..lonely I was, and how nothing ever seems to happen for me. You know, with Caleb..then Tyler..I know I've gotten over it, I'm not going to cry anymore. But I just feel so..empty, you know.'
'Hey, hush,' he gathered her in his arms and hugged her. 'It's okay, I'm here.'
'No no, I'm all cried out over them. I'm not going to cry anymore.' And strangely, she felt no tears coming to her eyes, again there was thought block the memory was too painful when she tried to think of Tyler, so she couldn't allow herself to think of him. She truly was all cried out. Even emotioned out, if emotion was a verb.
He was rocking her gently. He felt so warm, like a giant teddy bear.
'And.and..' She continued, not quite knowing why she was doing so, but the flood gates were opening, 'I'm turning 22 next month. I..I..made a resolution when I was 16 that before I turned 21, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore. But here I am, I'm going to turn 22 and I'm still a virgin.'
There she had said it. And she was feeling more miserable than ever. So much for the catharsis.
He stopped rocking her. He drew back and held her at arm's length so he could look at her. She noted the look of astonishment on his face. 'Are you serious?'
'You're laughing at me,' she accused.
'No no,' he protested. 'I'm not. I'm really not.' 'Just caught out, that's all. But I'm definitely not laughing. I..' He shook his head, smiling. 'I mean..and I'm not saying this to make you feel better or anything...but you're so beautiful and everything..and heck, I'm just surprised, that's all.'
She pulled her arm sharply out of his grasp. 'This was a mistake, telling you.'
'No no,' he caught her arms again and held her. Gently. 'I swear I'm not laughing. Seriously.' He shook his head again, like he was still having trouble believing it. 'Are you going to do anything about it?'
'Well, I don't want it to be some random one night thing, you know,' she said desperately. She stopped herself before she added, Like almost all of yours. 'I don't want it to be a total stranger. And I just feel..I mean I have this need, and it's getting worse until it's eating me..I know you think I'm going crazy...'
'I'll never think that,' he said softly. He looked away, seemingly lost in thought.
There was an awkward pause. She wished they weren't in a car, stuck out in the middle of nowhere. She really felt like sinking into a hole at this moment.
Then he said, 'What about me, Emma? I'm not a total stranger.'
She looked up sharply. 'What?'
He took a deep breath. 'I mean, I'm not a total stranger. If you want to lose your virginity before your birthday.. I mean..if you want someone experienced and all that..' He looked down, abashed. 'I could make love to you, if you wanted me to.'
She felt her heart stop.
Chapter 1
Emma twirled her glass round her index finger and thumb, and applied pressure on the stem until she was certain it would break. Hard. She gritted her teeth. He was doing it again. It was his idea to come to the club when she didn't want to. She wasn't much of a club person. Too careful, too introverted, her parents had said, but of course that was before they even knew she had powers. She liked people in twos and threes (or duplets and triplets, as she liked to call them), where she could manage them in carefully packaged sets of emotions over tidy conversations - not like this where the stark frenzy of neon-clad dancers threatened to engulf her like some tribal emphatic orgy.
It was enough to make her go ballistic. And now, to salt her wounds, he had done it again.
'You need to chill out,' he had said before they had ended up in his Camaro, driving to this new warehouse club place that was the rage of Generation Y.
'But I don't really want to go with you,' she complained. 'You always hook up with some floozy and I'm left there at the bar. Alone.'
He laughed. Right in her face. The audacity!
'Emma,' he smiled, his brown eyes smiling with him. 'Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?' He patted her on the head, like she was some puppy dog. How dare he? She clenched her fists 'Men will be swarming to dance with you.' He made a buzzing sound. 'Like bees. They'll be lining up. And you'll be begging me to fend them away.'
'Not that it's ever happened,' she muttered, but felt oddly pleased anyway. And went to get her red jacket, the one that brought out the green in her eyes.
And now here he was, smooching up with some floozy - some blond-haired floozy at that - and leaving her all alone at the bar. Clutching her glass. Making her regret it was coke and not something harder, just because someone had to be responsible enough not to get drunk enough to drive home.
He can't help it, she told herself. He's Brennan Mulwray. He was born that way, and even if he wasn't, somewhere along - between gym exercises and a healthy growth spurt - he got made that way. When he walked into a room, people sat up and noticed. Women and gay men did double takes. Eyes were riveted to him, to that form, that body, that face.
The gods had been kind to Brennan Mulwray. Too kind perhaps, she thought, when they made him.
It wasn't just his imposing height (he dwarfed almost everyone she knew). It wasn't just that body any model and porno star would give his eye teeth (and pecs) for. Or his perfect features, with his warm brown eyes and that slight Latino cast which made him all the more intoxicating (even though he was Irish). Brennan had a charisma that eclipsed most movie stars, and this had absolutely nothing to do with his looks. He had so much wattage he didn't need to be an electrical mutant to make it obvious.
She wondered how he had ever made it as a career criminal. He was way too conspicuous.
And it wasn't as if he was overtly vain. If he was aware people were staring at him, he shrugged it off in a 'they've been staring all my life, it's no big deal' attitude. Like now. Just slow dancing with the floozy Emma made a mental note not to call women that next time, this was the last exception, other women around him were turning their heads. Looking. Just like she was. She shook herself. It wasn't as though she was attracted to him or anything, she knew him TOO well for that, but he was nice eye candy. Besides, he was a little too old for her, and he was definitely a pain. Most of the time.
Pain didn't even begin to describe him. He teased her mercilessly, and more recently, he had this super macho complex that was overprotective and overbearing, to say the least. He could be terribly condescending and he certainly had chauvinistic tendencies. He even ratted on her once. But she forgave him, because time and again, he always came through for her. She couldn't count how many times he had saved her life. Just like she had saved his. When you had gone through war together, you could get real forgiving.
And besides, he had the hots for Shalimar.
Their relationship was plain...weird, come to think of it. It was so obvious they liked each other more than the usual war bond/team mate friendship. She didn't have to be an empath to see that. But she wasn't sure if it was mere lust. After all, they were two volatile, impassioned and very attractive people. Lust could do that to people. Made them rage full of hormones, like they were on permanent PMT, until they thought they were in love. But they really weren't. It would all be sizzling sex between Bren and Shal - hot, sensuous and wetly dripping with pages found in erotic novels - they would have a big fight after 6 weeks over attitude issues, and it would all be over.
Maybe they knew that. And they didn't want to risk it. They had a great friendship thing going on that was too huge to be risked.
She had once asked Shalimar about him. Shal had turned real defensive. Didn't want to talk about it, which was unlike her. She didn't need to read Shal to know there was a lot of hurt involved, hurt in the way that could only hurt so much you couldn't talk about it. Emma wasn't surprised. Bren and Shal both broke hearts, even if they didn't mean to; it was only apt they broke each other's.
And they both totally saw other people. Brennan worse than Shalimar. At least Shalimar was selective, even though sometimes she acted like a cat in heat. And at least she didn't get physical in her very brief relationships. Brennan had no such barriers. In fact, he was getting worse. Like he was drowning his hurt in one night stands that didn't mean anything to him other than convenient sex. Then when either one of them got hurt or threatened, they would run to each other and make up a bit, have a little caring/possessive interlude; then totally go back to hurting each other with their seeing other people.
It was a vicious hurt cycle. Emma wished they would get it over with and go back to being normal.
He was picking up blondes, women who looked like Shalimar. Or else he allowed blondes to pick him up. Like tonight. She stole a glance at the dance floor. Oh yes, they were now sucking face. The (not) floozy was groping his very nice behind, and he was reciprocating. Emma looked away. She would probably have to go home alone tonight. Nursing her embarrassing secret. Damn him.
She sipped her coke, feeling more morose than ever.
Someone tapped her on her shoulder. She turned round. A young man, average looking, wearing a nervous grin and a sweatshirt.
'Uh hi..do you want to dance?'
She made a mental calculation - this is not someone she would be attracted to long-term - made a decision swiftly and shook her head. 'No thanks.'
'Come on,' he persisted. 'It's just a dance.'
'I don't feel like dancing tonight.' She really didn't. She just felt..well, blah. Like she had been feeling for the past 2 weeks post Valentine's Day. Where they had spent going undercover infiltrating something Adam said was important, though she really couldn't be sure about Adam anymore and whether what he thought was important was really important. Or whether he had some hidden agenda that he would only reveal to them when they mutated, or something scary like that.
The world, lately, or at least it seemed to her, was coming to one big blah.
She noticed the hurt in the young man's eyes, and felt a pang of regret for having caused him pain. But it was only for an instant. Better now than be sorry later, she told herself.
'Is he bothering you?' She looked up to see Brennan looming over the young man's shoulder. My, that was quick. Where was Miss Suck Face?
'No, not at all.'
The young man took one nervous look at Brennan, and edged away. Emma had to smile. Bren could be real intimidating when he chose to. It was the size. 'You scared him away.'
Brennan laughed and took a seat next to her. 'Like I said I would, but only if you weren't having fun.'
'Where's your blonde friend?'
'We'll hook up later. I got her number. Told her I was with my best friend tonight and we're spending quality time.'
Emma felt another pang, a warm one this time. She felt a blush coming on. She always blushed too easily. 'Thanks, Bren.'
'It's just that you've been so blue lately. I can't put my finger on it.' Brennan looked embarrassed. 'Don't mean to pry, but if you want to talk about it, I'm here for you. Not that I'm super great with advice or anything.' He looked away.
'That really means a lot to me.'
There then came one of those awkward moments where nobody quite knew where to look or what to say. They had too much history together. She couldn't even get a conscious emotion into her head, there was thought block.
Emma averted her eyes and sipped her coke. Around them, the music crescendoed into something resembling wailing.
'But hey,' Brennan exclaimed suddenly, breaking the tension. 'Why don't we chill out of here and go for a drive or something? Then maybe stop for a couple of burgers and chocolate milkshakes?'
Emma smiled. He could be a darling sometimes. 'Sure. I like counting calories.'
She took his proffered hand it was so huge, her little one felt lost in it, and they got up to leave.
'And maybe you can tell me what's wrong, okay?' he murmured into her ear.
She took a deep breath. Yes, her secret. It was so embarrassing really. Not something she would tell Shal. Or anyone. She glanced at his warm brown eyes. When he looked like this, so sincere and earnest-like, a woman could tell him anything. Probably most of them did. She pitied them.
But she was feeling vulnerable tonight. And lonely. And she needed a catharsis of sorts. She needed to talk, to get it off her chest. And he was her best guy friend.
'Okay, I will tell you. But not here.'
'Fair enough, I'll drive.'
'No, you're sploshed. I'll drive.'
'I'm not sploshed, I can drive,' he dangled the keys out of her reach. 'Believe me Emma, when girls need to talk, it's best they don't drive.'
She rolled her eyes. They got into the car, and settled into a comfortable silence while he drove into nowhere in particular. It was very pleasant, this aimless driving. She could tell he liked driving, it gave him focus. Just like everything he did. He needed focus. She liked to think she contributed to some of that when she got him to join the team. That was a long time ago, when she was more innocent and he less so. She suddenly felt wistful. Nostalgia was such a bummer. It made her feel old.
The moon peeped from behind the clouds, bathing her hands in a soothing pale glow. She liked the night. Like Shalimar, who was predominantly nocturnal. In the day, the barrage of emotions from everyone around her assaulted her. She still wasn't that great at tuning everything out. Sometimes an errant emotion - especially a painful one - would crash through her careful defenses and she would feel...desperately, dangerously feel. So the night was like a balm of numbness after the torrid day. Sometimes numb was good.
He was slowing down. He had gone off road, the wheels were turning over bumpily. They drew to a halt under a copse of trees. It was a real quiet spot. She wondered how many women he had driven here in this car. If she didn't know him as well as she did, she would have gotten suspicious.
'Okay Emma,' he said, turning his full attention to her. 'I'm here if you want to talk.' He turned off the engine.
She took a deep breath.
He took her hand and looked into her eyes. 'You don't have to if you don't want to..'
Damn him. He looked so sincere. Even if she had misgivings in the first place, there was no turning back now. He was making her feel feminine and vulnerable, damn him.
'You'll laugh at me.' she began. 'It's so silly, really.'
'I won't..' he promised.
'It's just.just. ' she stammered, 'that I've been feeling..really blue lately. And it's.it's because..well, you know...I don't quite know how to put it...but after Valentine's Day..and ..you know...' She trailed off, embarrassed.
He stayed silent for a minute, seemingly gathering his thoughts. 'I think I know what you're going to say. You didn't have a date. We were working. None of us had dates.'
'Yeah, but even if we weren't working, I wouldn't have had a date anyway,' she said miserably.
He nodded. 'A lot of girls I know get real uptight around Valentine's Day. Especially the 2 weeks preceding it. It's normal.'
'No, it gets worse. It's just that..I was thinking how..' She closed her eyes, '..lonely I was, and how nothing ever seems to happen for me. You know, with Caleb..then Tyler..I know I've gotten over it, I'm not going to cry anymore. But I just feel so..empty, you know.'
'Hey, hush,' he gathered her in his arms and hugged her. 'It's okay, I'm here.'
'No no, I'm all cried out over them. I'm not going to cry anymore.' And strangely, she felt no tears coming to her eyes, again there was thought block the memory was too painful when she tried to think of Tyler, so she couldn't allow herself to think of him. She truly was all cried out. Even emotioned out, if emotion was a verb.
He was rocking her gently. He felt so warm, like a giant teddy bear.
'And.and..' She continued, not quite knowing why she was doing so, but the flood gates were opening, 'I'm turning 22 next month. I..I..made a resolution when I was 16 that before I turned 21, I wouldn't be a virgin anymore. But here I am, I'm going to turn 22 and I'm still a virgin.'
There she had said it. And she was feeling more miserable than ever. So much for the catharsis.
He stopped rocking her. He drew back and held her at arm's length so he could look at her. She noted the look of astonishment on his face. 'Are you serious?'
'You're laughing at me,' she accused.
'No no,' he protested. 'I'm not. I'm really not.' 'Just caught out, that's all. But I'm definitely not laughing. I..' He shook his head, smiling. 'I mean..and I'm not saying this to make you feel better or anything...but you're so beautiful and everything..and heck, I'm just surprised, that's all.'
She pulled her arm sharply out of his grasp. 'This was a mistake, telling you.'
'No no,' he caught her arms again and held her. Gently. 'I swear I'm not laughing. Seriously.' He shook his head again, like he was still having trouble believing it. 'Are you going to do anything about it?'
'Well, I don't want it to be some random one night thing, you know,' she said desperately. She stopped herself before she added, Like almost all of yours. 'I don't want it to be a total stranger. And I just feel..I mean I have this need, and it's getting worse until it's eating me..I know you think I'm going crazy...'
'I'll never think that,' he said softly. He looked away, seemingly lost in thought.
There was an awkward pause. She wished they weren't in a car, stuck out in the middle of nowhere. She really felt like sinking into a hole at this moment.
Then he said, 'What about me, Emma? I'm not a total stranger.'
She looked up sharply. 'What?'
He took a deep breath. 'I mean, I'm not a total stranger. If you want to lose your virginity before your birthday.. I mean..if you want someone experienced and all that..' He looked down, abashed. 'I could make love to you, if you wanted me to.'
She felt her heart stop.