I think about Edward all the way to Emmett's house. I think about how I simply gave him the schedule and said 'okay' because I couldn't muster the strength to tell him how I felt about those stars. Fire swims inside my stomach because tomorrow it would be real. The confirmation in that schedule gave birth to our wanton affair. I begin to wonder if I truly want him at all. Truth is I know very little about Edward Cullen.
Once there, I text mom and tell her I'm at a friend's. I don't receive a response right away, as I expected. At least she can't say I didn't let her know where I am. I drag my bag from my truck. Emmett is standing on the worn gravel and grass drive behind his Wrangler. It seems like it's never been washed. Dirt is caked everywhere. Grass sticks to the flaps. His house is like the Jeep, though not bathed in mud or grass, it's modest and old, worn in the right places. There are sparse flowers in front where someone tended them years ago, but weeds have taken over most of the beds.
"Thank you for helping me today," he says when I begin to follow him up the tiny path to the front door.
"No problem. I needed to get out of the house for a bit."
Inside is warm and smells of sugar. There is a comfort there, the kind which lingers after someone says 'I love you'. Instantly I crave more and smile gently as I'm on his heels toward the back of the house. He slings his bag onto the kitchen counter and picks up a note next to the sink. The ancient oven springs and he pulls a plate from the rack.
"My mom made cookies," he says setting the plate down. He doesn't ask if I want one, just gives me a large chocolate chip delight.
I take a taste. "She seems sweet."
He devours his in three, nodding and saying with his mouth full, "She is. You want some milk?"
I nod.
Three cookies later, I refuse more and finish off my glass. "Where do you want to study at?"
"Living room is good, or the table."
We sit in the living room across from one another at the wide coffee table, extending our legs underneath and getting to work right away. This extension of our school relationship is easy, natural. It's nothing to work for. Emmett's wide smile is infectious. It's not difficult to see why he's so popular.
Light fades from the living room. Dusk approaches and I tell him I better get home. Dad will worry about me if he's there. I pack up and the last cookie from the plate disappears into his mouth.
"Man, I can't believe finals are in a month. We'll be free from all this." He leans against the couch.
"Are you ready?"
"To get away from here? Yeah."
"Where are you going to go?"
"Oregon."
"Any specific major?" I ask, packing my things.
"Something with sports. Helping people." He nods, affirming. There is an overwhelming sense of surety.
I leave soon after, wishing I could have Emmett's confidence, his ability to make decisions. I wish I knew what to do with my life like he does.