Chapter 3
August 2015
Emma was bored. She had thirty minutes before she could leave the TA office and make the trek across campus to the Caspersen Student Center where she was meeting Elsa to attend some seminar. The topic escaped her at the moment but Elsa had promised she would be riveted, however she was reserving judgment. She figured if she was bored, she could draw. A tactic for entertaining herself she had been doing for many years, why stop now, right?
Taking a blank piece of paper, she did what had become second nature to her. Put a pencil in her hand, allow her subconscious free rein, and she created. Her hand swiftly sketching, outlining, and blending until the eyes that had haunted her nights more often than she cared to admit were staring right back at her. There he is again, she thought, my mystery man from the bar. Do I know you?
Noticing the time, she shoved the drawing into a book and, picking them up, ran out of the building. Getting lucky, she caught the shuttle at the Quad and was able to get off close to the Caspersen Student Center where there were multitudes of students both leaving and arriving, often creating traffic jams on the staircase. With minutes to spare she ran in the door, turning right at the stairs as instructed. She looked down at her phone briefly to check her next instructions and didn't see the railing which caught the corner of her books, knocking them from her arms. "Gonna be late, gonna be late," she muttered repeatedly as she quickly picked up the books and headed around the corner, not noticing the paper floating to the ground in her wake.
cs~cs~cs
Killian lay in bed and thought back over the last year of his life. Certainly not what he expected to be doing after he turned thirty; going back to school full-time, studying, and spending many waking moments thinking about a woman he'd seen once yet felt more connected to than should be possible. Now that it was his last year of graduate school, would fate intervene and bring her into his life?
Rolling over, he looked at the likeness of himself that he had found at the Lucky Strike some eight months ago. And while it had been eight months, he somehow remembered that night as clearly as if it had been last week. He could admit now that after finding the napkin, he had behaved like a crazy man, questioning the servers and the other customers, but none of them knew her. Of course, it could have been that they thought he was crazy and were worried about their friend, too, but he didn't think so. They seemed genuine in their denial, and he had been left with another instance of so close, yet so far away.
A quick check of the time told him he needed to get his arse in gear or he would be late and the project he had completed wouldn't get turned in on time. Rolling out of bed, he rubbed his hands over his face and wondered if he wanted to take the time to shave or go with a bit of scruff. Same with his hair, he thought as he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and realized it had gotten long enough to fall over his forehead into his eyes, and was currently standing up in several directions. Deciding there was no time to do anything about either, he took a quick shower and was on his way out the door with time to spare.
cs~cs~cs
Robin stopped at the top of the stairs, in Casperson Student Center, to take a drink of the hot coffee he had picked up before his next class. He'd needed the caffeine to help him stay awake after pulling an almost all-nighter to finish a project. As had become his habit, he was also mentally kicking Killian's arse for talking him into coming back to school when his attention locked in on the blonde racing through the glass doors at the bottom of the stairs.
By the time his sleep deprived brain had registered she was Killian's Emma and he had swallowed his hot coffee, she had dropped her books, picked them up again and disappeared around a corner. Pushing his way down the stairs, he changed from mentally kicking Killian's arse to kicking his own for not having the wherewithal to call her name before she vanished. "Bollocks," he muttered to himself as he rounded the corner to see if he could determine which way she might have gone. All that awaited him, though, were a couple of pieces of paper laying on an otherwise pristine floor. Picking them up, because he appreciated tidiness, he tucked them away to discard later and scanned the area in front of him.
The corridor ahead of him was long with multiple doors lining each side, each an exact replica of the others. As he passed the first set of doors, he realized they didn't have windows and so the only way to see if she were inside would be to open every door, which meant using time that he didn't have if he wanted to get to class. Deciding that at least they had discovered a building in which to look for her again at a later time, he turned to leave when a couple of the classroom doors opened and he was pushed along with the masses of students who had been set free. Unable to go in any other direction, he shortly found himself deposited outside and pulled the papers out to toss into the trash cans when a glance at one left a huge smile on his face. "Killian will be gobsmacked."
cs~cs~cs
Emma slid into her seat next to Elsa just as the speaker stood up to begin his presentation. "You're late," Elsa leaned in and whispered.
"Sorry," she whispered back, "I got sidetracked and then I dropped my books in the hallway."
"Sidetracked," Elsa smiled at her friend, "let me guess." She pretended to think it over, "Drawing?"
A sheepish look crossed Emma's face. "Maybe."
Elsa held her hand out and wiggled her fingers in a give me fashion, "Let me see it, although I'm assuming it's another copy of the same subject you've been obsessed with the past year."
"I'm not sure obsessed is the right word. I'm interested in him as any artist would be interested in a subject she was drawing. His bone structure is just so…," she hesitated to actually give it a label.
"Mmm," Her friend murmured, "delicious, sexy, studly, shall I continue?"
Emma giggled, "Well, those fit too, but I was thinking symmetrical." She glanced sideways Elsa. Flipping open her book, she noticed that the picture was no longer where she had stashed it and shrugged her shoulders. "Moot issue anyway as it's gone. Must have fallen out when my books fell."
"Wouldn't it be funny if it ended up in the hands of the subject you've been drawing so rabidly since you met him?"
"Oh, right. But would it be funny as in ha ha or funny as in oh dear?" Emma asked quietly before turning to listen to the presentation about tax laws and your business.
cs~cs~cs
Killian waited outside Pierce Hall for Robin to show for class. "Where the bloody devil are you?" he muttered as he watched the other students entering the building. He really didn't want to be late as Professor French, a rather stodgy older man who always smelled of cigars and roses, was notorious for marking students down if they got onto his bad side. Making up his mind to give him five more minutes, he resumed his pacing and went over what he needed to say during his presentation, but once his monologue was completed, and still no Robin, he went into the room to find a seat, leaving his mate to deal with the wrath of their professor on his own.
The doors were shut, the power point started and the classroom quiet when, with a bang, the doors flew open and Robin slid into class. All eyes turned toward the door where he stood, a huge smile lighting his face.
"Good of you to join us, Mr. Locksley." the professor chided. "Please have a seat so we can continue."
Instead of being embarrassed, Robin gave him a cheeky grin and a slight bow. "Pardon my tardiness, Professor," and practically skipped to the empty seat next to Killian.
Killian raised a brow at his behavior but when Robin sat down he didn't offer any hints as to what was on his bloody mind. Knowing his friend like he did though, something big had happened, as the man had been up most of the night working on his project and should not be this chipper.
Not wanting to give any indication that he was curious, Killian laid back in his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him. He noticed Robin open a book and flip through a few pages before pulling out a piece of paper that he laid flat and smoothed out carefully. The sound of his hand continually brushing across the paper started to annoy him, and before long he found himself making fists to keep from reaching across the desk, grabbing it, making a ball and tossing it across the room. The fact that the lecture was continuing to go on around them, just as if no sound was being heard had him flummoxed and wondering if these kids were deaf!
When Robin finally stopped, Killian relaxed not only his fists but his jaw where he had been inadvertently gritting his teeth and he tried to tune back into the lecture. He had just about lost himself in the presentation on clean energy when the paper Robin had been pressing landed on his desk.
Killian looked down at the page, swallowed hard and then over at Robin. "Bloody hell," he blurted out.
Professor French looked in his direction. "Something to add, Mr. Jones?"
"Excuse me, Professor," Killian apologized, "I was taking notes and my pen ran out of ink." He hoped the excuse was accepted and he could ask Robin some questions.
To his chagrin, three females sitting around him brought him extra writing utensils, and he had no choice but to smile his thanks and pretend as if he were paying attention. As the lecture continued, Robin just sat there with that cheeky smile on his face while Killian sat in consternation as time moved slowly along.
cs~cs~cs
Emma covered her mouth as a huge yawn seemed to come out of nowhere and just as that stopped, her stomach took it upon itself to announce that it was empty. Elsa, who had been completely engrossed in everything about the lecture, gave her a dirty look, causing Emma to slink farther down in her seat. "Sorry," she mouthed. "I forgot to eat."
Elsa dug in her bag and handed Emma a granola bar whose wrapper had seen better days, but Emma didn't care as long as it was edible. "Thanks." She took the bar and after Elsa turned down a share, started to munch as she listened to the speaker with half an ear, feeling her eyes glaze over. Thirty more minutes. "I can do this," she told herself over and over.
Why in the world would Elsa even think she would enjoy this, she wondered. But then she remembered their conversation when she had been talking about wanting to own her own business someday and Elsa said, "Emma, there's a lot to know if you want to own."
Well, duh, she thought. At least now if I do start a business and someone tries to take advantage of me, at least I will know. Seriously though, the logical side of her brain told her she needed this information, as well as the information she was gleaning from the courses she was taking to earn her MBA. But the artistic side of her brain had been doing a lot of eye rolling and barely survived International Economic Issues. And this semester, she was already not thrilled with her Federal Taxation of Business Entities and school had been in session less than a month. Art, on the other hand, brought her great joy in many ways.
Thinking about the art class she was teaching reminded her that she still needed to line up a male and a female model to use periodically throughout the semester. She could have used other art students but found that students from outside the art world often came into the environment curious, and therefore their facial expressions were more real and often more challenging for the students to imitate on canvas. A male with an expressive face like her mystery man would be perfect, but sadly she knew nothing about him, so the chances of that happening were probably slim to none, leaving her feeling melancholy at that prospect.
As the speaker completed his presentation, Emma helped Elsa gather her books and hurried her out of the room, worried that she would want to engage the man in conversation. "I'm starving still. Do you have time for lunch?"
Elsa frowned at her, "What's the hurry, Emma? I had a few questions for that guy."
"Sorry," Emma shrugged her shoulders, "if you really want to go back in, go ahead. I think I'll go grab a bite at the Grill, though."
Shaking her head at her friend's transparency, Elsa acquiesced, "Ok, you win. Grill it is."
"You sure?"
Elsa looped her arm through Emma's and directed them toward the Grill. "I'm sure. So, tell me about your classes."
They spent the time walking to, ordering and getting seated talking about their classes and busy schedules. Since the semester had started, and with their bowling league still on hiatus, they had been so busy that their conversations had been hit and miss and it was nice to catch up.
Pushing her tray away, Elsa wiped her hands and tossed the napkin on the table. "How's the class you're teaching? You've talked about everything else today but that."
Emma smiled and picked up her folder. "So far so good. In fact, I need a favor." Pulling a couple of pieces of paper out, she handed them to Elsa, "Can you post these on the student boards in the law buildings? I need a couple models to call on periodically throughout the semester."
"Sure, I'll put these up for you. They're just supposed to text you?" She tucked them into a book for safe keeping.
Emma nodded, "That's fine, or they can call, too." She picked up her phone to check the time. "Guess I'd better go to class." She deposited her trash then picked up her books, making her way out of the building. A boring lecture but maybe I'll get a good model out of coming over this way, she thought as she hopped on the shuttle to make her way back across campus.
cs~cs~cs
Killian had checked the clock above old man French's head every five minutes, it seemed, once his project presentation had been completed. He wasn't sure class had ever moved as slowly, but thankfully he had only five more minutes and then he would be free, and the git that was his friend could tell him the bloody hell was going on. A, why he was being so cheeky with the professor and, B, how and where he had ended up with yet another rendition of him, theoretically drawn by the mysterious Emma.
As soon as class was over, he turned to Robin, locking in on him with question after question, "Alright, time's up. Now spill." He held the picture up, "Where did this come from? Please tell me you found her."
Robin tilted his head, "Well, I saw her-"
"You saw her?" Blurted out Killian and then without waiting for an answer, continued tossing questions at Robin. "Was she alone? Where was she? Did you talk to her?"
Robin pantomimed zipping his lips and then pretended as if he were going to leave if Killian didn't listen. "Alright, I'll listen. Please tell me what you can."
Robin led Killian down the path of seeing Emma, giving every little detail, until Killian once again had clenched his fists and teeth, almost giving himself a headache in the process. Finally, the meat of the story came out. "...and as I was getting ready to walk down the stairs, there she was. Took me a few seconds to register that it was indeed her and once I had, I raced down to find her, but alas, she was gone. Sorry 'bout that, mate. I know you've been hoping we could find her for almost a year."
Killian licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry from all the questions while his brain struggled to put together Robin's story. Last year at The Burren, he had come away with her broken paintbrush leading him to the conclusion that she was an art student of some kind, however, the art classes were taught all over the bloody campus.
Almost sighting number two had been at The Lucky Strike, where the impressive drawing of him on the napkin had been left behind, but again he had been no closer to locating her, nor was he able to find any other clues as to her whereabouts.
And then, he sighed, sighting number three at the rowing competition last spring, when he had been standing on the shores of the Charles River enjoying the warm sun and had looked up on the footbridge and there she stood, next to Victor's leggy brunette, her hair shining in the sun and a huge smile on her face as she spoke to her friend. But he hadn't gathered his wits quickly enough and by the time he made his way up to where she had been standing, she had been gone. He had kicked himself quite vociferously in the arse for weeks after that event as well as scoured YouTube for videos of the event, looking for her to appear.
He heard his name being called, and focused to see Robin staring at him with a concerned look on his face, "Killian, you still want to find this Emma, right?
Killian's first thought was, are you bloody daft, of course, I want to find her, but then he realized that Robin hadn't been privy to his thoughts. "Of course, I want to find her!" Before giving any more thought to the 'what ifs' he gathered his stuff and was almost through the door before realizing that Robin hadn't followed him. He stopped and turned to see Robin sitting in his seat with a huge smile on his face. "What?"
"Finally!" Robin repacked his bookbag. "I'm happy to see a smile on your face again."
Killian thought about his behavior over the past few months and realized he had been rather melancholy. "I almost lost hope, you know?"
Robin nodded his head once, "Glad you didn't. Now let's go find your girl."
cs~cs~cs
Elsa watched Emma disappear out the door and decided this might be a good opportunity to catch up on her Evidence classwork, but first, she would put the art flyers up on the student boards around the center. Flipping open the folder where she had stored them, she read over Emma's description: Needed male and female models for Art 101, days and times varied. For more information, call or text Emma- 617-555-0815.
Simple and to the point, she thought. Emma shouldn't have too much difficulty getting a few people to contact her. She closed her book, stood up and had just taken a few steps away from the table when a flurry of commotion drew her attention toward the door. What she saw brought a huge smile to her face and quickly changed her mind about leaving. Three steps back and she sat down waiting for the show to start.
Walking up to the Caspersen Student Center, Killian couldn't stop his eyes from moving over every female in a cursory fashion to see if he could see Emma. She had been here just a few hours ago, so the odds of finding information about her in one building versus the entire campus were odds he liked. It was a huge building though, with a lot of doors so the question of where to start weighed heavily on his mind. "Where do you suggest we begin?" He glanced sideways at Robin as they walked up the stairs to the Center. "You've already lost her once, mate. How do you propose we not do that again?"
"Oh, ye of little faith," Robin quipped before suddenly stopping in the middle of a crowd and turning to Killian. "I'm not sure how to explain this but I have a good feeling about you and Emma." He started walking again, seemingly with a specific destination in mind without checking to make sure Killian was keeping up.
"Robin," Killian called just before losing him in a group of students who had just exited one of the lecture halls. When Robin moved out of the flow of traffic and he caught up with him, he looked around and saw endless doors and corridors, with, he assumed more endless doors. "Where are you going?"
"What do you smell?" Robin asked him as if talking to a small child.
"Fried foods, coffee." He shrugged his shoulders in confusion, "Why?"
"Because, my dear mate," he resumed walking, "that smell to me means lunch, which I believe is a good place to look for Emma."
Killian felt like a fool for a split second before deciding if anyone saw Emma in there, it should be him and he pushed his way ahead, not seeing the cafe worker coming around the corner, her arms loaded with trays. They both stopped quickly to avoid running directly into each other, however, the momentum of the tall stack of trays caused a large number of them to spill out of her arms and onto the floor, the noise reverberating throughout the large room.
"Sorry, love," Killian apologized, "let me help you clean this mess." They helped her pick up the trays and turned to stack them onto the racks when they both noticed a familiar face sitting against the wall smiling at them. "Well, well, Robin. I think your hope speech paid off."
Robin set his trays where indicated, "Shall we?" Killian didn't have to be asked twice.
Elsa made eye contact with Emma's mystery man and watched as recognition came over his face. When he smiled at her and then at his friend, before walking her way, she knew that Emma would be in good hands.
Watching them walk toward her, she had to admit he was quite good looking but looked different than he had last time they had seen him. He sported a scruff, and that, with his longer hair falling rakishly over his forehead and his very blue eyes, all combined to make a pretty potent impact. His walk as he sauntered across the room reminded her of a panther stalking his prey with a single-minded determination. Why his intense behavior didn't cause her to worry, she didn't know but was anxious to hear what they had to say.
Emma's man stopped close to her table and held out his hand, "I'm Killian Jones and this," he stated in a decidedly British accent and pointed at the sandy haired man standing next to him, "is my best mate, Robin Locksley. May we join you?"
Elsa looked at the man he had introduced as Robin, who hadn't said anything but stood there with a twinkle in his eye. Lifting a thin brow, she inclined her head toward the chair that Emma had just vacated. Interestingly enough, Killian nodded his head for Robin to sit in the chair at the table while he pulled one from another table and flipped it around, straddling it.
Looking back and forth between the two men, she waited for one of them to say something, finally deciding that she was going to help them along. "You're here for Emma." She looked directly at Killian waiting for him to admit or deny her statement.
He met her direct gaze with one of his own, "Aye, lass, I am. Is that going to be a problem?"
"It depends," she looked at him for an extra second and then moved her gaze to his friend, "I would not like it if my friend were hurt. She's special."
Killian folded his arms on the back of the chair and leaned closer. "I can promise you that if I were lucky enough to earn Emma's heart, I would treat it as though it were my own."
Elsa gave him a small smile, almost as if she wasn't sure that he was serious, but his expression never wavered, his sincerity impressing her. Robin, who hadn't said anything yet put his hand on top of hers, "I've known this gent for almost fourteen years and if there's one thing I've learned about Killian, it is that when he loves, he loves hard. Emma's heart would be in the very best hands." He smiled at her, his dimples creating craters in each cheek. "Can you say the same about Emma?"
What to say about Emma without telling her story, Elsa wondered, finally settling on saying simply, "Emma is very loyal and protective of those she loves."
"Elsa," Killian said quietly, "Will you help me meet Emma?"
"I have an idea," she said hesitantly while she fiddled with the pages that Emma had left behind, "but, I'm not sure..." Her voice drifted off.
"Tell me," Killian interjected, "I'll do anything."
She pulled the paper out of her folder and placed a copy in front of each man. "Emma is a TA for a freshman art class and every semester periodically needs models. She asked me to post these on the student board, and I thought, maybe…" she hesitated hoping she hadn't tossed something out there that Emma wouldn't like.
Elsa had been looking down at the paper as she talked and when she quieted and looked up at Killian, the smile on his face eliminated any feelings of insecurity she had about what she had done. Something told her she had done the right thing.
"I'm in." Killian pulled out his phone and added Emma as a contact. "Are you going to tell her you met me?"
"I probably should," she acknowledged, "but I'm going to trust that you will make it special."
"Thanks, lass," Killian smiled at her. "You won't regret this."
Elsa gathered her books and stood up. "See that I don't, Jones or I might have to kick your ass." Giving them a sassy wink, she left the room.
cs~cs~cs
Class was uneventful and while she thought about going to the campus gym, but decided she would much rather go home, get comfortable and maybe paint. Hopping on the red line she got off close to her apartment and after picking up a sandwich, walked rest of the way home.
The house was quiet and as she made her way upstairs she could hear soft music playing from Elsa and Anna's place, but nothing from Sarah's. The fourth apartment remained empty since Fiona had moved out and she really wished Ruby could move in, but since she wasn't a student at Harvard, nor was it close enough to Boston College, knew it would never come to pass. Two good reasons, but she still felt a bit sad thinking about it.
She tossed her books on the chair closest to the door, the bag with her sandwich on the small table and left her shoes in a pile near the chair. Her layers followed and by the time she made it to her bedroom, she was down to her panties and bra, which she quickly switched for a soft tank and drawstring pants. Pinning her hair haphazardly up, she poured herself a glass of water, squeezed in some lime and tossed a couple cherries in for good measure before sitting down with her sandwich and laptop to catch up on what was going on around her.
cs~cs~cs
Killian's first inclination, once he had her phone number, was to immediately give her a call; however, with what she hadn't said when he tried to talk to her at The Burren and with what her friend hadn't said about her made him think she was a woman whose trust needed to be earned and wasn't given easily. Once that decision had been made he then had to decide the best approach. He had been looking for her for a year, what was another few days?
Once back in their apartment, he still hadn't come up with a good idea of how much time was too little and how much was too much. "How much time do you think I should wait before I contact her?" He asked Robin as he started pacing back and forth in front of the door, worrying his thumbnail with his teeth.
Robin stopped on his way into the kitchen. "Killian, you have been mooning after the girl for a year. I've never seen you shy away from anything or anyone you wanted. Why stop now?"
Running both hands through his hair causing it to stick up in all directions, he thought about Robin's words. "You're right. I'm behaving like an arse."
Robin smirked, "Of course, I'm right." He continued on his way into the kitchen. "Lunch and then you can contact your Emma."
"My Emma. I like that," Killian crowed as they worked together over lunch.
cs~cs~cs
Emma stood in front of the blank canvas and after starting and stopping several times threw her brush down in frustration, went to the kitchen and removed a pint of Brownie Core Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Taking the container and a spoon, she dropped down onto the sofa and slid the spoon into the frozen confection making sure to get a little vanilla, a little chocolate, and some fudge all on her spoon at the same time. When she put it into her mouth the cold hit her tongue, bursting with sugary goodness before sliding coolly down her throat causing her to groan in ecstasy.
Leaning back, she scooped another bite, licking it from the spoon slowly while staring at the blank canvas in front of her. "Why is it," she muttered, "that I can draw anything if I specifically sit down to draw?" So, if she wanted to draw a bird, no problem, she could draw a bird. Same with a flower or a dog, yet since that night a year ago, every time she let her mind fly free, it flew straight to her mystery man. Why was that?
Suddenly as if a picture had just appeared in her brain, she needed to paint. On her way to put her ice cream away, she flipped on some music and reached in her case for her true and trusty round brush. Pulling the broken end of the brush that had been a favorite, she mentally lamented its demise before tossing it back and getting a slightly larger round one. Sure, it would be a bit more difficult to paint the way she wanted, but she was always up for a challenge. Dipping the brush into the blue she placed it on the canvas and let her mind's eye take over, and moving from one color to another, didn't stop until she felt it was complete. Not allowing herself to second guess, she cleaned her brushes and put them away before standing back to view her work.
She had painted a beach, and not just any either, but Revere Beach, the easiest one to get to from Cambridge and one she visited quite frequently. The water was so blue it was almost violet with intermittent white waves rolling onto the shore. In the distance, a cloudless sky touched those waves, seamlessly blending them together, realistic enough that she felt like she could almost smell the saltwater as the waves moved to and fro.
In the foreground, the beach's soft sand touched by the sun was pristine, except for a lone set of prints that ran along the shoreline, some starting to fade as the tide rolled in. On the far left of the beach sat a woman, leaning back on her hands, legs stretched in front and her long blonde hair flowing down her back. Her face was hidden save for her profile as she stared up the beach, a flirty smile playing on her lips.
Following her line of sight, a man could be seen, his jeans rolled up above his ankles, shoes held tightly in one hand, his other tucked in his pocket as he walked through the surf. He was wearing a t-shirt, covered by a plaid button up, unfastened and billowing out behind him as he moved quickly toward his destination. Emma knew before she even glanced up at his face whom she had painted, and when her suspicion was confirmed, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at her predictability.
She assumed that she had painted him wearing his beanie, just like she had every other time and so was very surprised when she saw that she had given him hair. Black, thick and long enough to blow across his forehead, just enough to shield his eyes periodically. His smile satisfied, happy.
"What is it that draws me to you," she asked the man who was heading toward her, "and why of all nights was this what I painted?"
Not expecting a response, she was startled when her cell phone vibrated and a quick glance showed a number she didn't recognize. Sliding her thumb across the screen to open the message, she read;
Emma, do you still need a model for your class?
cs~cs~cs
As soon as he had sent the text, he wanted to kick his own arse for sending such a bland message, worried that she would either ignore it or send a response back telling him to jump off a cliff. When an immediate response didn't arrive, he tossed the phone onto the bed while he went into the kitchen for a bottle of water.
Emma read the message and smiled at its simplicity. "Good," she told the phone as she started typing a response, getting halfway through when there was a knock on her door. Leaving the phone on the sofa, she opened the door to see Elsa leaning against the wall. "Oh hey, is my music too loud? I can turn it down."
Elsa pushed off from the wall, "That's alright. I knew you had to be painting so I came to see." She walked into the apartment. "Will I be surprised?"
Giving her a sheepish smile, Emma followed her to the painting. "Maybe?" She looked at her work again, "Ok, probably not." She stood quietly as Elsa looked over the picture.
"Emma, this is breathtaking," Elsa gushed, "but I see your mystery man made an appearance," she teased gently. "You gave him hair, that's different."
Emma shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm not sure where that came from, but I like it." She stopped, lost in thought for a few minutes, "Think I'll ever meet him?"
"I'd bet on it." Elsa gave her a small smile. "Speaking of, have you heard from anyone regarding modeling?"
Squinting at her friend, Emma thought there was more to that statement than met the eye but decided not to pursue it. "Actually, I was responding to a text when you knocked."
"Oh?" Elsa started walking toward the door. "Ok, I'll get out of here so you can get back to it. Ta ta." And was gone.
"What just happened?" Emma asked the room at large, before pulling out her phone and answering.
E: Yes, I do. Volunteering?
The response was almost immediate.
Yes, I am. Specifics?
E: Class is Tuesday and Thursday at 10. Either day not work?
Thursday doesn't work as I have class.
E: Ok, no problem. And what was your name?
Sorry about that. My name is Killian Jones.
Emma smiled at his response imagining that he was annoyed with himself for not giving his name in his first text. She stored his name along with his number.
E: Thanks for volunteering Killian. Would a week from Tuesday work for you?
When Killian read her response this time, he couldn't stop the smile that bloomed on his face. Less than two weeks was nothing after waiting an entire year.
K: I'll be there. Shall I come early?
E: 15 minutes early?
K: See you then.
Emma checked 'male model' off her list and added that to her class agenda. Going to the bathroom, she completed her nightly ritual of brushing her teeth and washing her face before climbing into bed. Just as she reached over to turn off the light, her phone buzzed to life.
K: Forgive my manners, Emma, but you are Emma what?
E: Swan, my name is Emma Swan.
K: Very pleased to finally meet you, Emma Swan. Sweet dreams
Emma wondered what he meant by finally meeting her, but chalked it up to him being a younger student who might have been too shy to say something sooner. Turning off the light, she allowed herself to fall asleep where she dreamt she was sitting on a beach, watching and waiting for her mystery man.
So he's found her and she's still dreaming of him. Thanks for reading. As always, let me know what you think. Stay tuned for Chapter 4.