Chapter fiveeeeee… in which Will and Emma act adorable and we get to see her condo. Oh, so, by the way: I was looking over my story traffic, and over seven hundred people have read my story Can Anybody Find Me. You want to know how many reviews that story has gotten? Thirteen. Do you know how loved that makes me feel? Not very loved. When I open my e-mail and see that I have reviews I do a little happy dance: do me a favor and have me dance more often. :D

maDameSaysWhAt

Will's POV (Ooo, never written from his point of view before. This will be fun.)

After missing it twice in the dark, I pulled into Emma's short driveway, parking as close to the door as I could; a wild rain had begun to fall on our way back to her house. I pulled an ancient blue umbrella from under the seat, running over to the passenger side before she could even think about opening the door. I gave her a hand out of the car, very much enjoying the huddling together we had to do in order to stay dry. She shoved a key into the doorknob and stepped inside, bending down to undo the straps on her heels and then placing them on an obviously dedicated mat.

"Well, this is my house." She gestured at the small entryway, smiling. "I've decorated the best I can on my teacher's salary, but it's nice, and it's home." I slid off my shoes (I can't imagine she'd appreciate all my foreign germs anywhere near her living space) and began looking around, studying the place my new… girlfriend?... called home.

The entryway, firstly, was immaculate: five pairs of brightly colored pumps lined up in a neat row under a set of hooks, holding up various matching jackets. The carpet looked like it belonged on an Empire Today commercial, and a Monet print of a bridge brightened the cream walls.

She led me into the kitchen, a pale yellow room with stainless steel appliances and matching utensils. The only thing that didn't look like it belonged on the cover of a frugal Country Living was a bottle of Germ-Ex on the counter, ready for use at a moment's notice. Nothing else was the tiniest bit out of place. This house was so perfectly amazingly Emma, with all her quirks and charm on display. I noticed her watching me as I surveyed the room.

"I just washed the floors yesterday, so they're extra clean." I glanced down, literally seeing my reflection in the white linoleum.

"It's great, Em." Her smile was as bright as the floor. My stomach gurgled unexpectedly, breaking the brief silence. We both laughed.

"I think that's the cue for pizza," she said, leaning over and opening the fridge. She pulled out a block of soymilk cheese, organic tomato sauce, basil, and a Ziploc marked with 'Pizza Dough' and the date it was made. Very efficient, I thought. "Please, sit down." She pointed to a little nook-like dining area in the corner, with a booth set into the wall. I shook my head.

"No, let me help." I moved towards her, taking the cheese. She tried to grab it back.

"Come on, Will, it'll only take a minute." I raised an eyebrow, holding the cheese above her head; her jaw set. "My house, my rules, my oven, my guest." She pointed imperiously to the corner. Sighing petulantly, I set down the orange brick and mock-slumped across the room. She couldn't help but giggle slightly.

"If you're really that desperate to help me, you can set the table." I smiled, changing my course to the cupboard she pointed to.

Her dishes were pure white and sparkled like the 'after' subjects on detergent commercials. I heard her bustling around, preparing what was bound to be a delicious pizza. I had tasted her wonderful cooking at a few of the 'potluck teacher's workshops' (Figgins was getting extremely fiscally creative). It was a refreshing change from Terri, whose idea of cooking was throwing a Weight Watcher's meal in the microwave and calling it homemade.

I finished setting the table, lining up the forks and knives neatly, and I turned to her. She was just setting the tray into the oven. After putting the leftover ingredients into the fridge, she turned to me.

"Well… would you like a tour?" I nodded, interested in the rest of her home. It was bound to be a fun pastime while we waited for supper.

She took my hand, smiling nervously, gauging how I would react. I squeezed her slight fingers, reassuring my affections. She began to lead me down a short hallway.

Her living room was my favorite so far, painted a rich magenta on three walls, white the fourth. Just enough color balance to not be overwhelming. A white couch, facing a TV, a shelf with pictures and trinkets, a fishbowl containing a blue beta on a stand in the corner, and a bookcase, all spotlessly clean. I pointed to the fish.

"What's his name?" She laughed.

"Fuzzy. My niece named him last summer, when I got him." I nodded.

"I didn't know you were an aunt." She smiled.

"Cadence. She's four." She handed me a picture from the shelf; it was of a tiny little girl, with wavy red hair and surprisingly dark skin for her blue eyes. "My older sister, Georgiana, brings her here every summer. She's such a sweet little girl. Just turned four." I nodded, smiling. She began tugging me to the next room.

We went through her house; a very white bathroom, a little pink office, a blue guest bedroom, a green formal dining room. She gestured to her bedroom door.

"I'd bring you in there, but I'm rearranging… it's a little messy." She blushed and I nearly laughed; of course Emma would be embarrassed by a messy room in her house. Then, I thought… what if her room wasn't messy?

What if she just didn't want me in her bedroom, after dark, on a date? Maybe she thought I came here with ulterior motives! That certainly was NOT true. I mean, from a man's standpoint, she was extremely pretty, with wonderful curves… but I wanted to know her, definitely before we got into the bedroom. I wanted to have a relationship with her, and I thought she knew that!

I wasn't going to push her into doing anything she isn't ready to do. I was going to prove that I am not a conniving womanizer interested only in her body.

She snapped me back into the present by leading me to a room at the very back of her small condo.

"This is just an extra room… mostly storage…" She opened the door and pointed in. "Not much to see." The deep red walls were lined with containers, and I saw bedding, photo albums, and other such things through the clear plastic. In the corner, a huge grey blanket was draped over a lump; a lump that looked suspiciously familiar…

I walked towards it and she began to stutter.

"Oh-oh, no, that… please don't-I…" I grinned and yanked at the corner of the fabric. Underneath was what I expected to find: a big, shiny black baby grand piano.

"Emma! I had no idea you played!!!" It was clear that she did, and often. It was spotlessly dusted, and music books were lined up neatly on the stand. The paint on the pedals was worn, clearly a sign of use. I pulled out the bench and sat, playing a G chord.

She came and stood by me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You caught me. I've been playing since I was six." I turned my head, taking her hand.

"Why didn't you tell me??? We could work out a duet sometime." She looked at her feet.

"I don't know… when you tell people you've been playing an instrument for twenty four years, they expect you to be some kind of genius at it. The truth is… I'm just not really good." She nibbled on her lip, and I squeezed her hand.

"I don't care how 'bad' you are. Why don't you play me something?" Her head snapped up, her eyebrows crinkled into a frown.

"N-no, I… I'm not really… um, c-comfortab…" I lead her by the arm around the bench to sit beside me as she stammered, trying to dig for excuses. I opened a worn looking Beethoven book, flipping to For Elise (Or 'Fur Elise', to the picky German-speakers).

She placed her hands on the keys, catching my eye.

"I taught myself, you should know. From a sixties do-it-yourself foldable. I learned on a toy piano that had only two octaves… and that's the kind of playing I can do." She took a deep breath and carefully played the opening notes.

She progressed through the first movement, and I had to admit that she was partially right: her hands skittered over the keys roughly, and she stumbled quite a bit. But for someone who had been teaching herself from a pamphlet, she was quite good.

Just before the second page, she pulled her hands away in the middle of a measure.

"I… I can't. You play so much better; I can't match to you." She gave a sad smile. I shook my head.

"Emma, you aren't as bad as you think you are. And… if you wanted… I could maybe give you some lessons?" For a spur of the moment suggestion, it was pretty good. It would give me excuses to see her more often, and it would be good bonding time for sure. Her face lit up.

"You… you would?" Her voice was quiet. I nodded vigorously.

"Sure! I have Glee on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but other than that I'm pretty much free anytime. You don't have to, I mean…" I remembered my promise of taking things slow, "but, if you wanted to…?" I trailed off, searching her face.

Slowly, she wound her arms around my neck. Never losing eye contact, she moved in and pressed her soft lips to mine. I pulled her close, gently reciprocating her kiss. It was a simple embrace, used to reassure me that yes, she would like to have piano lessons.

"How does Monday after school sound?" I grinned, kissing her forehead gently.

"Wonderful."

Suddenly, a sharp beeping interrupted our moment, and we both nearly leapt out of our skins. She laughed.

"I think that's the cue for pizza, Will." I nuzzled her nose.

"Good, I'm starving." She led me away from the piano and back into the kitchen.

They are just too cuh-yoot. I don't like writing from Will's PoV; I think I'll stick to Emma's from now on. Also, thanks to BeautifulLife (was it her? yes, i think it was) who reviewed chapter 4 and told me that I had made a goof: Emma gives directions back to her place from the theater, but he obviously knew how to get there from picking her up. XD thanks, tomatoes thrown at me in celebration of my idiocy are welcome.