Chapter 18: •fourteen•

Robyn Hook

It was supposed to be a joke. I couldn't resist teasing him. But when I saw his face flush, it was the thought of kissing him that was hard to resist. He was the one who just touched my lips, so why was he getting all flustered?

I was getting mixed signals here. See, this was the big gay dilemma. Is he an overly affectionate straight bro dude that just happens to kiss your cheek and hold your hands and caress your hair and cuddle you at night and sing comforting songs and calls us (platonic) soulmates, or is there that small minuscule of a chance that there is a spark of something resembling mutual feelings?

Intrusive thoughts got the best of me, so I tested out the waters.

I licked my top lip. "Raspberry, hm? Tastes good." Hail Mary. If he didn't get the signals before, there was no way he'd think this was just a 'no homo' moment. "I wonder if this is how it tastes to kiss you." I leaned in closer to gauge his reaction and didn't expect him to completely malfunction in front of me. His eyebrows raised as his pupils darted between my eyes and lips.

"Huh?" He was too f*cking cute. I wanted to devour him on the spot, to kiss those moles on his face so badly. One by one, following the trail from forehead to his brow, to his cheek, down his neck–ugh you know what I mean. His lips looked so kissable. Just knowing the fact that I was wearing his lip balm made it seem like we already kissed and it sent a wave of electricity through my body. Gave me the power to do something bold.

My right arm rested right next to his head and was tempted to caress his chin with my free hand, but then I felt like it would've been moving too fast and I hesitated. As it was pouring outside the van, I could feel Em's breath on my lips. It was like time was at a standstill, as it seemed even the raindrops were falling at a slower rate. We were so close he could probably see the pores on my nose. He was so close I could see his two-toned eyelashes.

In a split second, his eyes widened and he swiftly pushed me back without even looking me in the eye, and yelled, "I HAVE TO PEE," so abruptly that it almost made me chuckle out loud by the sheer randomness of that statement. It was all very comedic and I wasn't too bummed about not being able to kiss him, because in retrospect I realized I'd rather have a better atmosphere than being in a mom van. (Not cute. Em deserves better). And most of all, it was entertaining seeing him get flustered. It gave me all the more reason to want him. I propped my elbows on the steering wheel as I watched him fumble with the keypad.

I sighed wistfully and got out of the car to go check on him, but instead of seeing Em, I was 'greeted' with Elsa's face. "What are you doing here?" I blurted out. I could physically feel my face quickly go from lovesick to disgust as my eyebrows dropped into a scrunch.

"I was making some dinner, actually. Piper is supposed to be discharged tomorrow. Which you'd know if you were here." I could smell her bland ass chicken soup from the foyer and I didn't need to eat it for it to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. "By the way, is your boyfriend okay?"

I pinched my nose in exasperation. "Emerson is not my boyfriend," well–not yet anyway—but that's not the point here, "what do you mean?"

"He was like super red. Is he sick?" I was both oddly appreciative and slightly disturbed by her concern for Em, but it didn't mean much coming from her.

"Yeah, a fever or something like that." This was probably the longest conversation we've had without a fight. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I knew it wasn't the right time. I just didn't want to spoil my birthday fun by talking to her aggravating ass.

Emerson walked out of the bathroom with his hairline a little wet and a sheen on his forehead which led me to believe he probably splashed some cold water on his face to cool himself down. He cleared his throat when he looked down at my aunt. "Sorry, I missed you there. It was a long drive back."

"It's fine," she waved her hand. I was eyeing the clothes she was wearing because I recognized them as my mom's pj's. A pair that my dad got her when he bought one for the entire family a few years ago. It left a bitter taste in my mouth, but I had Em's voice nagging me at the back of my head to be nice. Fine. "Can you bring your mom some food?" She asked in her annoying voice.

Em could probably hear my foul thoughts so he graciously cut me off. "Sure, we can do that. I'd love to visit her. Let's go, Robyn." He was already heading for the kitchen when I strode towards him to grab his arm.

"You don't have to go. It was a long trip and we have school tomorrow. Go sleep. I can tell you're tired."

"No, it's okay I was asleep on the drive back. If anyone should get sleep, it's you." Doesn't he realize I can only sleep with him around? He couldn't look me in the eyes, opting to look at my nose or lips, I couldn't tell.

Emerson was stubborn (and still is), so I knew he wasn't budging. "Okay, we can go together." He'd always get his way with me no matter what.

Elsa cleared her throat. "I already put the food in some Tupperware." I don't know why her eyes looked like 'gtfo' because this was my house. She was lucky that she stayed for as long as she did, especially when she had the audacity to slap me.

"We're going to talk."

She narrowed her eyes. "Trust me, you already talk too much."

"Robyn, come on," Em basically pleaded. He already knew I was going to say something back so I bit my tongue. I shoved the food into a lunch bag as Em slipped on his slides instead of the Timbs he wore earlier.

As we left and I locked the front door, Elsa had just answered a phone call and didn't look too happy. I turned and walked back to the van. Emerson buckled himself back in the passenger's side and sighed.

"What? You sound like you have something to say."

"Gosh, the way you said 'we are going to talk' was so threatening. Could've been a little nicer."

"Hey, I'm just keeping the same energy she's giving. Remember, she slapped me. That can't be justifiable." Em usually looked at me while he talked to me in the car, even if I was driving with my eyes on the road. But when I took a quick glance, his head was propped on his hand, his elbow resting on the car door. He was looking out the window. Something was up because the scenery definitely wasn't interesting or new. Did I go too far earlier? Did I make him uncomfortable? He was hard to gauge right now. He hadn't looked me straight in the eye since he scrambled out of the car.

Instead of his usual self that would given me some self-righteous advice about dealing with Elsa, it seemed his mind was elsewhere. "Earlier..." he started but faltered. "W-were— what were you trying to say?" Our eyes met for a split second before he quickly broke it again.

"Earlier?"

"I-in the van." Who was this stuttering Em next to me?

"Sorry. If that made you uncomfortable, you can tell me. Especially since you know I'm gay, I don't want you to think I'm taking advantage of you for fun." If I said I wanted to keep our friendship the same as it was just a year ago, I would be lying. I couldn't tell him yet just how serious I was about him.

Em scoffed like I just said the most ridiculous thing. "If I was uncomfortable I wouldn't be sitting in this van with you. You're still my same Robyn. That doesn't change anything." My? I hated how much I liked the sound of that.

"Okay. Just making sure of your boundaries."

"It's all good." He reached over to turn on the radio and scrolled through the stations. He landed on the old but gold one, no surprise, and "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" was playing.

Emerson was humming along, ironically, seemingly making it his mission to keep his eyes off me.

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

He was tapping his fingers on his side to the rhythm of the song, slowly loosening up from the tension.

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

Judging by the way he reacted to me earlier, I knew I had a chance. I fell first, but I was going to make him fall harder than I did.

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you

And that dream. That red-tipped yellow rose. It couldn't have been a coincidence. It was a sign. A sign that there was at least a small, sliver of a chance that maybe I could dance to this song with him, no matter how many toes get stepped on. Maybe in our own apartment, just the two of us, hand in hand, no one to judge us. A sign that we would sing horribly at the top of our lungs on road trips, with the sunroof open, the sun painting us in gold.

While I drove with my left hand on the steering wheel I used my right hand to clasp Em's. Em looked confused. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all." This was good, it felt right. I couldn't imagine myself with anyone else. I just wish instead of holding his hand, I could kiss it. "You sing really nice." His palm was hot. Em balled his other hand into a fist and rested his lip on it, so I could barely hear the next thing he said. He murmured something. "What'd you say?"

"You like my voice?" He looked up at me, making eye contact with me for the first time in a while.

"Yeah, of course." I like every single thing about him. "How many times do I have to tell you that until you believe me?"

He chewed on his bottom lip, looking away again. "I still think you're full of it."

I chuckled, "I'm being serious! Johnny Orlando has nothing on you."

"Now I know you're flat-out lying." I couldn't tell if his cheeks were flushed or if it was the sunset casting its red hues over his face.

I squeezed his hand. "I'm not! Why would I constantly ask you to sing if you sounded like shit? If I wanted to hear shit vocals, I might as well sing myself."

I smiled when I heard a small chuckle from him. "So you admit it."

"Yeah, yeah whatever." Then the over-played, easily recognizable, and iconic sexy-time sax intro of "Careless Whisper" played and I lost it. "Oh shit this is my jam!" and I turned up the stereo louder. "OH-OOH WOAHH. OH OOH WOOAHH-OOH-WOAH." Em cringed at my oh-so-angelic vocals.

I feel so unsure

As I take your hand and lead you to the dance floor

As the music dies, something in your eyes

Calls to mind a silver screen

And all its sad good-byes

I was haphazardly waving Em's arm around with our hands together. "Shut up," Em said half-joking. I knew he wanted me to stop singing, but he was smiling. So I couldn't have been all that bad.

I let go of Em's hand and lightly pushed his shoulder. "Come on, join me!"

"I'll let you have all the fun, Robbie."

"It'd be homophobic not to sing along to George Michael."

"I cannot unhear this as an unserious song."

"But the bridge is so GOOD!" I was thumping the steering wheel loudly to the best of the music, vocalizing the saxophone. "Oh come on, the best part is coming."

To my surprise, Em joined.

"Tonight the music seems so loud

I wish that we could lose this crowd

Maybe, it's better this way

We'd hurt each other with the things we'd want to say"

I know people jokingly memed it as a 'sexy-time-song' but the lyrics are genuinely so heartfelt and filled with longing and loss and regret altogether. Yes, I'm explicating this song more than I will ever do a novel I have to read for school. I mean, George Michael has some good quality shit. And it's probably because he's a gay icon.

We could have been so good together

We could have lived this dance forever

But now, who's gonna dance with me?

Please stay"

"See? That was fun."

"I guess." He tried to be nonchalant about it, but he was smiling. I wanted to see more of it.

"Come on, I know you liked it. We should do karaoke sometime." Like a cute date.

"Oh, that'd be fun. We could invite Nathan, Oliver, Alice, and Andrej." Now that would not be cute or a date. Fun, maybe, but not exactly where I was heading.

"Oh, uhm. Well, I was just thinking just us–"

"We're almost at the hospital. Do you think they have a microwave we can use to reheat this food? I think it'd be gross to give it to your mom lukewarm." Em seemed preoccupied with gathering the things as crouched near his feet. "Were you saying something?"

"No, never mind."

Emerson raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

I figured we could definitely have this talk at a better time. I parked in the visitor's lot. "Nah, not that important. We'd better hurry. I think visiting hours end at seven and it's six now."

I was nervous to see my mom again for some reason. Maybe I was scared of seeing her in a hospital bed. It was too reminiscent of my dad in the casket. I knew she was recovering, but the state she was in now, she looked like a completely different person than who I knew when I was a child. When times were simpler and we were happier.

It was the second time now that I had hesitated opening the hospital room door. I gulped.

Em put his hand on my shoulder. I gave him a half-assed smile and turned back to open the door. There she was, in her weak state, on the hospital bed. She wasn't asleep like I had expected her to, but she was sitting upright and reading a book. I cleared my throat. "Hey, Mom. How are you feeling?"

She looked pleasantly surprised and closed her book to set aside her lap. "Oh! Hi Birdie. It's better; I've definitely been feeling better. Still weaker, but that nothing a little bit of cardio can fix."

Em noticed the distance I put between myself and the hospital bed, so he took me by the arm and dragged me closer to the bedside. "That's good. You're feeling good enough to be discharged tomorrow?"

"Yes, hon. The doctor said I should be able to. I honestly don't want to stay here any longer than I have been." She furrowed her brow, her light, almost fragile, attitude casting a shadow on her face. "I'm sorry, I can't even imagine those hospital bills." She looked sincere, but I found it hard to swallow and say something in response.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're feeling better, Piper," Em started while setting the food on the coffee table. "Elsa cooked some soup so we brought you some dinner." I don't know what I'd do without Em, because his presence significantly improved not only my feelings but my mom's as well. I could see just how bright her face lit up when she acknowledged him in the room.

"Aww, hon, you didn't have to, but thank you."

Em shrugged. "It's no problem, really.

I was wringing my hands and I didn't even realize I was until Em put his on mine to stop it. 'Are you okay?' he mouthed. I nodded stiffly, and probably really unconvincingly.

"Is Elsa still staying at our house?" I asked. I was really confused about her whole situation and was yet to be enlightened.

"It depends, she will visit from time to time, but I think she's moved in with her boyfriend." It took everything in me to not make a judgemental expression because who knows how long that will last. "Why?" I should be asking a lot of 'whys' but now was not the time.

"Well, Em has been staying in my room. You know, just helping around the house lately. It's just easier to work on homework, especially since with our health project." I scratched the nape of my neck.

My mom smiled and looked at Em. "Thank you, dear. You didn't have to. I know my boy can be a lot. At this point, he probably keeps you around to keep his head on and clean his messes."

Em laughed and tilted his head. "I mean you're not wrong." I teasingly shoved my elbow into his side. "The thing I'm more concerned about is that our upcoming project is–how you say–time-consuming and care-intensive. Long story short we get this baby doll we have to take care of and sometimes it cries in the night. I'm just worried that'd affect your sleep."

"Trust me, you have nothing to worry about with me. If you can deal with Robyn you can easily deal with that. I'll probably be too drugged up on meds to be bothered." What even is life right now? Are Em and my own mother bonding over how hard I am to deal with? The absolute slander. The audacity. "Do you want us to clear the guest room? I feel bad that you've been sleeping on the floor," she said to Em.

Emerson raised his brow at me. "Uh no, we've been sleeping in the same bed. It's big enough." It was a queen-sized bed, I just thought it'd be rude to leave him on the floor while I was all cozy in my own bed. (It's totally and completely not just an excuse to keep cuddling with Em.) While Em's mother wouldn't bat an eye, I thought the idea would make my mother uncomfortable, especially now that we were not little boys anymore. Maybe I was delusional and imagined my mom's offhanded attitude toward me whenever I'd be remotely non-masculine. Maybe there was a chance she changed. With the way she was raised, knowing my grandpa, she should've thought it was weird. Should've.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry. Once I get back I'll get the guest bedroom cleaned up for you." Translation: I had to clean the guest bedroom.

"It's fine. I'm sure I won't be staying for too long. Besides, it'd be more of a hassle when most of my stuff is in his room anyway."

"Whatever you say, hon." I helped her sit up, slightly weirded out. I felt like I was in another dimension. Emerson brought the tray of reheated chicken soup from the coffee table to the bed, making sure to set some aside for us as well. "Thank, you Em darling, you're so sweet."

"My pleasure, Piper." He neatly laid a napkin across her lap and joined me on the couch to our share from the coffee table.

"So, children. What have you been up to lately?" I gulped a spoonful of soup thickly, having a hard time swallowing. I know it wasn't about me, but did she forget about my birthday? I understood that, but it still hurt.

Emerson was gracefully sipping his soup and gave me a subtle glance. I interpreted it as him prompting me to speak first. "Em and I just came back from a camping trip with Oliver and Nathan. Roughed it up a bit."

Mom nodded along. "What did you guys do?"

"Kayaked, hiked, spelunked," I said shortly. I don't know why I was getting choked up. I wish I had some water to wash whatever was stuck in my throat down because the soup was not cutting it. The room was so stifling, and I bet I was the only one feeling it.

My mom smiled, oblivious to my inner turmoils. "Wow, you boys were busy. Did you have fun?"

"Yes," I smiled back, hoping it didn't come off as a grimace. I was finally feeling it all at that moment. The fatigue; both physically and emotionally. For once, Em finished his food before me. I let mine cool down and didn't touch it for a while since it hurt to swallow. It was especially unappetizing since Elsa cooked it, but I couldn't stomach any food. Of course, being unconditionally attentive as always, Em noticed and decided to take the reins.

"It was real fun! I'm glad we were able to go on that trip and relax before going back to school tomorrow. I think we've all just been stressed lately." He made a motion to look at the clock in the room above the door frame. "We're pretty tired and I think visiting hours are almost over so we should get going."

"Oh, you're absolutely right, hon. I'm sorry for keeping y'all this long." Mom started to move to clean up herself but Em shook his head and put his hand over hers.

"No, no, let me. Don't be sorry, it was nice talking to you. After all, you're letting me crash at your house. I'm glad you're feeling better, Piper, really. I'll be with Robyn when you get discharged, so I'll see you real soon." He quickly gathered the dishes and Tupperware, efficiently tying it all up while I stood dumbly, quietly.

Em fluffed up her pillows, tidied up, and neatly tucked the edges of the bedsheets. He glanced behind his shoulder to meet my eyes and promptly broke it again. I blinked slowly and shuffled to the door, watching Emerson being the son that my mom needed. And I just felt useless. I felt like I took a thousand steps backward from the progress I've made this entire time when coping with my dad.

"I'll go turn on the car. Love you, Mom."

"Oh, bye, hon." She waved and I grabbed the handle and exited, holding back tears. Why was I such a loser? About to cry over someone forgetting my birthday?

But it was my own mother who birthed me, not just someone.

Before I became irrevocably lost in my dark thoughts, I decided to take a detour to a vending machine. My finger itched for either an energy drink or an espresso, but I knew I'd come to regret it later. If I was trying to fix my insomnia, caffeine at night sure wouldn't help. Besides, I knew Em would be with me.

Instead of a drink, I got a cinnamon roll. I figured I needed something soft and sweet to stomach.

I stayed near the door, sitting on a bench in the hallway. I lied about starting the car early. I just wanted to get out as soon as possible. And when I saw Em walk out of the room, I lied again. "Oh, Robbie you're still here?"

"I don't remember where we parked."

Em sighed softly, not in the manner he usually did when exasperated, but in an almost fond way. He was soft on me as compared to early in the morning because he could tell just how much I was struggling. I'd be stupid to think my lie was convincing to him. "Let's go, Robyn. I remember." His left hand carried the bag with the now empty tupperware and he used his right arm to push me along. "What would you do without me?" Em lightly said under his breath. It was a joke, but in all seriousness, probably not much. I'd be even more of a mess. He was the one keeping me wound together, like a neat yarnball instead of a marionette mess of entanglement.

What could I do without him? Not much.

I wordlessly followed Em's lead to the car in the street-lit parking lot as the sun had not only already set, but it was still cloudy after the rain so there were no moon or stars in sight. Kinda befitting of my mood.

"Give me the keys," Em said already at the driver's side. I didn't have the energy to oppose him so I just let him.  When we settled in and Em turned on the engine, I didn't motion to turn on the radio. I didn't feel like it. "You want to talk about it?"

So many things happened today and I felt like I got whiplash from my emotional rollercoaster. If I did want to talk about it, where would I even start? What is it? I wanted to curl up in myself. My voice broke when I said, "My mom didn't know it was my birthday."

I didn't meet Em's eyes when I felt his hand attempting to comfort me by running his hands through my hair. "I'm sure it wasn't intentional. She probably doesn't even know what week it is, you know being drugged up and all, I don't think she's in the right mental state." Em's voice was gentle, light. I could tell he was cautiously treading around this subject.

"I know, I know. It still hurts." I rubbed my chest like it would feel better, but of course, it didn't and the tightening feeling persisted.

"It's okay, Robyn. It will be okay. She's slowly getting better. People don't recover overnight."

"I believe you." But I didn't even know if I believed myself saying that. I didn't want to cry, so I did what I did best and changed the subject. "Earlier... at the camp, you said you had a gift part two for me?"

"Yes, I did." After a quick moment, Em said, "No, I'm not telling you. It's a surprise."

"Come on, not a hint?"

"Well, I think you'll like it."

"Will you tell me if I guess right?"

"Maybe."

"Okay... Is it underwear?"

"Why would you–" Em wrinkled his nose and sighed exasperatedly. "You'd like it if I got you underwear?"

"Yeah, preferably Calvin Klein, but that's a luxury. That and Nike socks, you know, being a D-1 basketball player and all."

"Thanks, now I know what to get you for Christmas," Em said sarcastically. "But no, I didn't get you underwear or socks. It's more unique than that. Honestly, my mom would probably get you those instead."

"So no clothes?"

"I guess."

"Cologne?"

"No."

"Grooming set?" I almost said ball-shaver, but I think that would've earned me a hard smack.

"Nope. Are you trying to subtly tell me you stink? Because you do."

"Shut up. I'm just naming off practical stuff because you're a practical person."

"Stop guessing, you'd probably not get it."

"A massager?"

"Good idea, but you could just get Emily to step on your back."

"True."

"Oh, oh! I know!"

"Enlighten me, detective."

"A Hello Kitty waffle maker!"

Em made a confused expression. "You never expressed an interest in Hello Kitty before."

"I'm joking. Kinda. I wouldn't be mad if you got me one."

"I'm learning so much about you," Emerson joked with an eye roll. "But I genuinely think you'll like my gift. And even if you don't, don't tell me because I wracked my brain over it." He didn't need to give me a disclaimer, if it came from Em I'd treasure it for the rest of my life. Even if he was a bad cook and cooked some roadkill shit I'd probably still devour it like Gordon Ramsay had made it. Theoretically.

"You're a thoughtful person and you probably know me better than I do. I'm sure it won't disappoint," I winked.

"Yeah, no pressure or anything."

"Between the trip and the cake, I'm surprised there's still more."

"I mean, that's why it's supposed to be a surprise for you. But look at you, trying to guess it and spoil all the fun."

I held my hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. I'll stop guessing."

Call me delusional, but I felt some tension in the air between us. And not that conflict about-to-fight-any-second tension, but something related to our moment earlier in the van when I first pulled into my driveway. He was acting fine now, but I wish I could read his thoughts. While he usually was pellucid with the emotions he showed easily through his face, he was hard to read and kept himself more reserved or preoccupied. Especially if he kept on avoiding eye contact. But that probably meant something in its own right.

~~~

My frown set on my face when my aunt came into my line of vision. We entered the foyer and Em said, "I'll go prepare your gift. I'll be waiting in your room." On a normal day, I would've raised my eyebrow at his wording, but it didn't feel like the right time. He quickly took off his slides and courteously said goodnight to Elsa.

"How was Piper?" Elsa asked from the couch. She laid the entirety of her short self sprawled across the cushions while she ate some of her own leftover chicken soup. On the television, some crappy, tacky  TLC show was playing and she didn't take her eyes off it to ask me that. You might as well call her an overgrown iPad kid. Speaking of kids, didn't she have a baby to take care of?

"Fine. You already know she's getting released tomorrow. Nothing new." I kept it short. I didn't have the mental capacity or emotional battery to deal with her.

"Thought you wanted to talk." And she thought she ate.

"Not today. I'm tired. My mom needs to be here too." I didn't even wait for another second before going straight to my room. I didn't want to hear her voice, so I left it at that. That was going to be the future me's problem.

When I closed the door behind me, I was met with the sight of Em stripping off his hoodie so that his shirt was left disheveled and exposing the right side of his abdomen. There were a couple of moles arranged like constellations across his skin. I never wanted to hold that waist more.

I was so sexually frustrated. Lord, give me strength.

He was sitting with his legs criss-crossed on my bed with what I assumed was a gift in a tissue-stuffed bag. It was on the smaller side and much more modest than the huge and fancy-wrapped box Nathan and Oliver gave me earlier. I threw my jacket on a nearby chair and sat across from him when he waved me over to join him on the bed.

"That's cute." I pointed at the capybara-printed tissue.

"I know right? Open it." He nervously smiled at me in anticipation.

I dug out the object from the bottom of the bag and saw it was a jewelry box. It had a navy blue velvet exterior and I wondered how expensive it was. I took the opportunity to tease Em, "If this is a ring, I'm kinda disappointed you didn't drop on one knee. It better be a diamond-encrusted twenty-four-carat ring, or no marriage and you can raise our robo-baby yourself."

Emerson snorted. "Look inside." While I was joking about a ring, it was not one ring, but four black ones with different designs. "They're fidget rings. I noticed you wring your hands a lot as a habit, so I thought these would be better."

What else I would expect from Em? I knew it'd be a thoughtful gift. I immediately put them on and started messing with them. "They're awesome, thanks Em." I appreciated all the different designs and functionality, a subtle yet useful addition to my wardrobe.

He let out a relieved sigh. "I'm glad, Robyn." He watched me spin the chain around one of the rings and reached out to an interlocking ring that split into three and played with it himself. "This feels like the fidget spinner craze all over again."

"It was the ultimate ADHD trap. I had a fidget spinner with pop-its embedded into it."

"Yeah, this one looks more socially acceptable. That's for sure." When he was done playing with them, he grabbed my right hand and put it on my ring finger of all fingers. It's like he was doing it on purpose.

"I do!"

He squeezed and dropped my hand. "I object," he smiled, feigning annoyance. I motioned to put the box away but then Em stopped me. "Wait. There's still something else in the box."

"Oh." I removed the cardboard and found a piece of paper. It was like a handmade coupon for, "a tattoo and piercing shop?" I read aloud. "Good for one use. What's this?"

Em scratched the nape of his neck. "Well, I've seen your camera roll and you've saved some inspo pics for piercings, especially for snakebite piercings. I know you've wanted it for a while and never got around to doing it because of basketball and stuff. But my dad has a cool sister–I can't believe you haven't met her yet–anyways, my Aunt Cora owns a tattoo and piercing shop and she said she's willing to give me a free tat or piercing at any time, but I don't really see myself getting one any time soon. So I asked her to make a 'free pass' for you instead and she actually agreed. So if you do decide to get one, you better give her a good tip. Anyways, uh yeah, hope you like it," he shrugged.

"That is so dope! Thank you, Em," I pulled him into a hug.

"You're welcome, Robbie." When we pulled away, we were still close and on my bed. I just realized how dark it was in my room, the only source of light being a dim moonlamp.

I took Em's head into both of my hands and caressed his cheek with my thumb. Em's eyelashes fluttered as his eyes followed my face. When I leaned in, his eyes shut and I placed a soft kiss on his forehead, some of his hair sticking to my lips. How did his hair still manage to smell so good after a whole camping trip?

Normally he was the one to kiss me on the cheek, but it somehow felt different. Where was the line for platonic anyway? Every place our skin touched felt like sparks, felt warm, felt right. It's exactly what Nathan described what he felt when he was with Oliver and I understood it all at once.

Now it didn't feel so much like the Tower of Terror anymore. Not a pit at the bottom of my stomach. Now it was a warm aching feeling in my chest. A tingling sensation at my fingertips and toes. Goosebumps that raised the hair on my arms. And an unprecedented amount of adoration I could barely contain.

I wondered what Emerson felt.

After kissing his forehead, I promptly kissed him on his cheek as well. "What are you doing?" He spoke so quietly it was almost like a whisper.

"Just showing how much I love you." I just wish I could say that to him in a different way.

"Wow... it's a lot of love," he laughed. Oh, he didn't even know just the extent of it. "I love you, too."

I sighed contentedly and dragged us down so that I was spooning Em. Em giggled and that made me ask "What? Why are you laughing?" Just the sound of his joy made my dopamine levels spike.

"Sometimes, I don't get you. Look, we're still in our outdoor clothes. Don't tell me we're just going to fall asleep in jeans and not wash up. Come on, get up," he responded, tapping my arm to make me let go.

"No," I whined. "It's already comfy like this."

"Dang, maybe I should've gotten you a grooming hygiene kit. You are nasty," Em said with a final push. "I'm going to take a shower and you better also shower after me because I'm not going to sleep next to your stinky self. That is unless you want to sleep on the floor."

"Or we could shower together."

"Oh my gosh, no. No, just no. Not that crap again," he grumbled.

"I'm joking!" My laughing was muffled by a towel thrown by Em.

"I won't take long." He took some clothes from my dresser and went into the bathroom, leaving me sprawled on my own bed as I looked up at the ceiling. I fidgeted with the rings and wondered why I hadn't gotten them sooner. I also wondered how he got my ring size exactly correct.

The fatigue from the weekend's activities felt like it had finally caught up to me all at once and I was in a loopy state where I could fall asleep any second. Where I would say I 'was just resting my eyes' but in actuality, I was thirty seconds away from fully passing out.

That is until Em came out of the bathroom, drying his hair off with a towel. I could've sworn he just left, but I guess that's how time passes when you want to rest your eyes for a few seconds. "Your turn, Birthday Boy," Em said as he made himself comfortable on the bed.

I grunted but begrudgingly got up to take a shower because I knew I'd probably sleep better in fresh clothes and smelling good. I squinted when I entered the bathroom because it was much brighter than the dim lighting of my room. My eyes scanned the counter which had double the amount of products because of Em and his skincare routine. Then I saw his toothbrush next to mine and realized how we were basically living like boyfriends. I tried to imagine us as a couple, but honestly, how different would it actually be?

I'd probably be taking a shit while he brushed his teeth because I think that's peak relationship status. If he can handle the stench of my shit, our relationship could stand anything that came our way.

We used each other's shampoos, shared each other's clothes, slept next to each other, and cuddled. Hell, I was on his lock screen. No wonder why everyone thought we were dating. So why was it so hard to bridge that gap that seemed so small yet so scary?

Sure, he's told me on many occasions he's loved me, but as only a friend, even worse, a brother. Was he even gay? Or at least remotely attracted to men? The thing is, he's never dated before, much less talked about his crushes. What's his type? I remember him mentioning once that he wanted to be in a relationship. If he wasn't in love with somebody, he was definitely in love with the idea of being one.

Being so close yet so far... it was taunting. That I could kiss him on the forehead but not on the lips. That we could cuddle with each other on my bed, but nothing else. That pact that we made when we were kids; that we would be married by age thirty if we were single by then. But what if he found the perfect someone? That he called us literal soulmates but probably meant it in the platonic sense. He was one of the smartest people I knew academically, but how stupid could he be with emotions? And he called me a dumbass. It was so ridiculous, that I genuinely laughed out loud to myself in the shower thinking about it.

After my late-teens existential shower moment, I pulled on my flannel pants. And no shirt because I don't usually sleep with a shirt. Even though it was cold outside, it was warm enough in my room.

By the time I got out of the bathroom, Emerson was lying on his backside, but he was on his phone probably scrolling through Pinterest or GoodReads reviews. "Could you please change the nightlight so it cycles through different colors?"

"Sure. Does it help you sleep better?"

"Depends, it just looks cool."

"You haven't changed."

I laid on my right side so I was facing him and nestled my head in the crook of my arm. I didn't want to leave this. Realizing I had to go back to school tomorrow where it wouldn't just be the two of us made me annoyed. I was made doubly irritated when I realized I didn't do my homework for the Reborn Baby Project.

"Em..."

"What is it now?" He asked while putting his phone down. "The way you're saying my name makes it seem like you did something wrong."

"Not exactly."

"Just say it." Oh boy, he was in his mom mode and I felt like I was about to be told off for my crap report card.

"I forgot to do my homework for health."

Emerson sighed through his nose. "Yeah, I know. I know you copy and pasted the reading guide answers. You didn't watch the videos because you never watch the videos. It's fine, Miss Amelie said we won't get the babies until Tuesday so you have tomorrow to sort your crap out." Clearly, he was disappointed, but not surprised. He folded his hands atop his chest and tapped his own fingers. "Any ideas for baby names? We can't keep calling it a robo-baby."

"You want serious names or shits and giggles names?"

"Depends on the name."

"Well, I was thinking Mr. Worldwide, Bartholomew, or Boomquifa."

Em made an appalled face. "What the heck is Boomquifa? Those are straight-up shit names, no giggles for that poor baby."

"Who said those were the shits and giggles names? Those are my serious ones. Don't be rude, I spent a lot of time scouring the internet for those names. I deliberated over them so hard and looked up their meanings." I said it all with a completely straight face.

"My apologies," Em replied sarcastically.

"Do you have any name ideas?"

Em shrugged. "I don't know. Since our names are gender-neutral, maybe our baby should also be gender-neutral." Hearing him say 'our baby' did stuff to my stomach.

"Jaime is cute." I don't know, it was a random name that popped up.

"Huh, I kinda like it."

"That was easy," I said surprised.

"I mean, it's not like it's a real baby. You can't put too much effort into naming our baby when you don't even know how to take care of it."

"Trust me, we've got this. When I get the milk, I'll come back."

Em snorted through his nose. "You better. If Jaime is anything like you, they're going to be a handful." He yawned and changed his lying position so we faced each other. I stared into his eyes that reflected the slow-changing colors of my moon lamp, his face illuminated in rainbow hues. It seemed like an eternity had passed while we stared into each other's eyes.

How could someone have such long eyelashes? How could someone make moles look like works of art? How could someone be such a perfect package? I felt like I wanted to keep him hidden from the real world, like a treasure to be kept. How could someone stay so unconditionally nice to everybody from all walks of life? How could a person be so beautiful? I couldn't wrap my head around it, but I didn't need to. Because that's just the person Emerson Leigh Scott is.

I reached out for his hand and gently cradled it against my chest. Even though my grip was so light, I never wanted to let go. I was so lucky to be his best friend. I must've saved an entire nation in my past life.

"Can't sleep?" He whispered softly.

"No," I smiled, "won't sleep."

"What?" He blinked with squinted eyes. Em was definitely fighting sleep.

"I haven't said good night yet."

Em yawned again. "Oh, is that all?" He smiled with his eyes closed, ready to go to sleep.

"Yeah." Not really. It'd be nice if I could kiss him good night. Or stare at his face. "Good night, Em."

"Good night, Robyn," he whispered. He nestled closer to me, tucking his head into my chest and immediately fell asleep. As per ritual, Emerson's warmth lulled me into a sweet sleep almost as swiftly as he did.

~~~

Fourth period I had gym class, unfortunately not with Em, but at least with Nathan and Oliver. It was a weights class so most of the students were involved in our school's sports programs. The three of us were gathered at one of the deadlift platforms, trying to beat our personal records. During a water break, Oliver asked, "So, had a good birthday getaway?"

"For the most part, you know, got some good gifts. The trip was fun."

"Good to know we're the bestest friends ever," Oliver said proudly. "What's the status between you and Emerson?" That'd be the part where I'd do a spit take and spit water all over his face but I just gave him a look.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Judging by what Emerson wore today, I'm pretty sure that's your sweater."

I wiped my face with my gym shirt and scoffed. "Dude, we share each other's clothes all the time." 'Each other' is a stretch because it was more like he wore more of my clothes, but I'm not complaining.

"Dude," he said with a shit-eating grin. "That's pretty gay."

"Wouldn't you know," I said dryly.

"He also mentioned giving you a gift when you guys got back," Oliver pried, raising his eyebrows suggestively. "Got some action?"

"No." I punched Oliver's side. "He's dense as bricks. Seems like about everyone knows except him."

Nathan hopped into the conversation after dropping his barbell. "Maybe a good makeout session will change his mind."

My eyebrows raised and I couldn't tell if Nathan was joking or not. "Is that how it works? That easy? I can't take advice from two dudes who almost killed each other and went through the five stages of grief before getting together. I'd like to avoid all that angst, thank you very much."

"What's wrong with a good old enemies to lovers?" Oliver shrugged. "I mean, a nice kiss wouldn't hurt."

"With consent of course," Nathan added.

"Are you suggesting a nice little, 'casual kiss?' I think you forget who Em is." I can't forget the horrified look on his face when the bottle pointed towards him at Nathan's birthday party.

"I'm like half joking about the makeout session, but if he's really that dense, then why don't you straight up confess?" Nathan asked.

I laughed sardonically. "It's not that easy, you guys know that. At least you guys were under the influence of alcohol to hide behind." I don't condone underage drinking, but I had to make a point that they weren't completely in their right minds when they decided to viciously exchange spit on a random 3 a.m. night. "Then, there was this moment where we almost kissed but he thought it was a joke so he brushed it off."

Oliver raised his hand. "Uh, pause and rewind that back. Almost kissed? Context?" He gestured with his fingers for me to give more information.

"Well, I'm bitchless but not rizzless. He put his chapstick on my lips and I asked what was it like to kiss him..." Saying it out loud was low-key embarrassing but this was Nathan and Oliver and we've all been through the thick of it together, seeing each other at our lowest.

Nathan smacked a hand over his mouth in shock and Oliver snorted. "Ain't no way," Oliver said.

"How'd he react?" Nathan asked.

"Well, we didn't kiss because he panicked and ran inside the house."

"I don't know, me personally, that's kinda sus reaction. Dude definitely felt something," Oliver said while jabbing his elbow into my side.

I sighed. "It's whatever." I was lying. That wasn't whatever. That was a crucial moment in the space-time continuum that could've changed my life forever. But who am I? Not an astrophysicist, that's for sure. "I didn't push it because I didn't want to make him uncomfortable." I rubbed my temples, getting a migraine that was probably worsened by the awful music blasting in the weight room speakers. Even Mendoza wouldn't subject us to this.

Oliver started to laugh at me. "Bro, you are bitchless and rizzless."

"We're rooting for you, good luck," Nathan said much more understanding than Oliver, and pushed him away. "If anyone has the best chance of getting together with Emerson, it's you."

Just because I had the best chance didn't guarantee it. This isn't the silly, delusional flings I had with girls in middle school. This was my best friend. A man. Knowing Em's nonexistent love life, I'd be his first everything. While he would be my first for a lot of things, it's still scary no matter how you look at it.

~~~

"I'm going to rock his shit," Em grumbled as we were in the same stall, struggling to take our shirts off. Seeing him heated and cussing made him weirdly attractive, only amplified by his bare chest in close proximity to my bare chest.

"I'd pay to see that."

Emerson glared at me and I promptly shut my mouth. "Gimme," he demanded, holding out his hand and I gave him my hoodie as he gave me his sweater (technically mine) and switched. "Ugh, make some room."

"Why? Who wouldn't want to be this close to this perfectly sculpted bod," I flexed. Emerson 'tasered' my side by jabbing his fingers in my side, eliciting a yelp from me. "Okay, okay. Sorry. I'm really sorry I started that food fight with the twins. I couldn't help it, they were saying stupid shit."

"Since you couldn't control yourself, here are the consequences of your actions. Now you get to show everyone." He sniffed. "Gosh, it smells awful." He was talking about his (my) sweater with a huge abstract-esque painting made with ketchup we attempted to wash out, only leaving it with a more smudged ketchup pattern, a damp front, and a sour smell. It was disgusting, but also kinda funny.

Long story short, the twins were making very ignorant statements and I jokingly flung a raisin with a spoon at them, but of course, they took it far and it escalated to the point where half our lunch table became a casualty, including Em. They sprayed ketchup everywhere and carrots ended up on the other side of the lunch room. Thankfully, by the time the teachers noticed they saw the twins did most of the damage and made Andrew and Aiden clean up the mess. Mr. Holt, a true ally. (Or maybe his gun is also pink because of the rumors of him and Mr. Matthews, but who knows.)

"Hurry up, or I'm gonna be late for my bioethics project. I feel bad if I make my group work without me."

"I think they're perfectly capable of surviving without you for the first three minutes of class." I was trying to take my time as I had art class and really only had to do some touching-up on my realistic portrait of Kobe Bryant. I already accepted the fact that no amount of time would make it look better than the sad Walmart version it was.

"Why did I have to be collateral damage?" Em whined under his breath.

"Don't feel bad, I did it for the girls and the gays. They are definitely fans of Andrew Tater-Tots."

Emerson grunted. "I wouldn't be surprised. Still. If you're going to educate someone, you should use your words," he said giving me a pointed look.

Suddenly we heard the sound of heels clicking on the tile floors and the jingling of keys. "Oh shit," I whispered under my breath, knowing full well how this situation could look to anybody. Without saying a word I lifted Em by his waist and placed him on the toilet so that he squatted on the seat so that his feet wouldn't be shown under the stall. The stall was already a tight fit and now that Em was hunched over, he took more space.

Rationally, you're probably asking, "Why not just go to adjacent stalls and exchange clothes by passing clothes over the stall?" Well, that would've been Em's first choice if it weren't for his humility showing. But our school's men's bathrooms only had two stalls in each, one being the one we were in and the other being the handicapped stall. He'd feel embarrassed on the off-chance a kid in the wheelchair actually needed that stall and it was occupied. Which, okay, makes sense.

Now you're also probably thinking "Why not just exchange clothes normally in the bathroom?" While I wouldn't mind explaining this all too hilarious situation to the average passerby, I don't think Em could live with that embarrassment either. That and there was no way he was exposing himself like that in the open. (For free?!)

Em started to angrily mouth at me and I tried reading his lips, "You did not just manhandle me like that!"

"Sorry, I didn't know what else to do."

"I could've walked out the stall and–" I swear I didn't hear the footsteps go away so I was getting wary of getting caught so I put my hand over Em's mouth, which I think made him more pissed because his face flushed red.

Whoever came into the restroom thankfully wasn't trying to look too hard for vapers and left pretty fast.

Em batted my hand away and hopped from the toilet so we were yet again face to face, with our bodies pressed against each other. "Ugh! Get me out of here!" Uncharacteristically impatient, he was fumbling with the lock around me since I was blocking it. "I can't believe you didn't wash your hands and put that same unwashed hand on my mouth." Whoops, I forgot sometimes how much of a germaphobe Em could be.

He headed straight for the sink to wash his hands and splash some water on his face. "I honestly don't know how we get stuck in these situations," he said.

"Like at least somewhat naked in a bathroom in close proximity?"

"Don't say it like that." Em looked at me through the mirror and his face was still flushed. "I have to go, Robyn, any longer and I'll be in trouble." He ran away before I could even say bye. Leaving me alone to wash my hands, I smiled down at the rings Em gave me.

~~~

"I swear you were wearing something different this morning," a girl in my health class said as her eyes flickered between me and Em. Her nose wrinkled as she sniffed the ketchup. "And I think you smelled differently too," she said making a disgusted face.

"Astute observation, Austyne. You know, you could become the next Sherlock."

She snorted. "I'm assuming it was Double Trouble?" She was talking about the twins. They were kinda notorious for being menace little shits. People have heard about all the shenanigans that go on at our lunch table by this time of the year.

I sighed. "Yeah."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain how you two switched tops." (There was a joke there that could be made.)

Emerson decided to interject. "I don't know how they made it onto the basketball team because if they were trying to hit Robyn, they hit everyone else at our table but him," he said as he jutted his thumb at me. "So we switched because they got ketchup all over me. And Robyn can't be all innocent, he's partly to blame."

I pursed my lips. "Partly not as in fifty-fifty, but more like twenty-eighty, me being twenty."

"Whatever makes you feel better."

Austyne nodded. "Seems about right."

Miss Amelie spoke from behind her monitor. "I hope you guys have watched your videos and done your research. You and your partner need to make a cohesive schedule and plan to take care of the baby and record your activities. Remember, this is an intensive project, so you will need full cooperation with your partner to get a good score. Tuesday to Thursday the baby will activate after school hours to take care of and will shut off right before school hours. On Friday you will bring back everything you have received related to the baby and write your reflections.

Austyne already turned to her partner, Isaac Hitchcock, someone who could do no wrong, the poster child for the All-American Boy. He was in the grade above, and someone I secretly admired. Because he and his boyfriend, Daehyun Young, were the first queer couple in the school's history to be in the homecoming court, and judging by their popularity, had a decent chance of winning senior prom court. Em had mentioned them before, which is saying a lot because Em never paid attention to people's popularity (ironic considering he was a part of my friend group and we were popular in our own regard). And he even voiced his admiration for the couple.

Those two did leaps and bounds for the school, and good for them. I wish I could be like them. To be as open. They were so brave, and I was honestly jealous. I constantly wondered if I could talk to either of them for advice but I didn't know if it'd be too weird to randomly pull it out of my ass.

From what I heard and observed in class, they were suspiciously nice people. Before being associated with Issac, to be quite frank, Daehyun went under the radar. He kept more to himself and definitely wasn't a full-blown philanthropist like Isaac. I didn't really know much about him except for the fact that he changed his hair color a lot and is friends with Jun. Oh and iconically revived the Asian Student Union due to it being mismanaged by two old white men. Typical. Anyway, even though I've never interacted with him, he was cool with Jun so was definitely cool with me

Isaac was the president of the National Honor Society and a strong advocate for mental health (hence his aspiration to be a psychiatrist). He was our school's baseball captain, the senior class secretary, and often volunteered at the pet shelter. He was the conventionally attractive white boy with pure blonde hair and stark blue eyes. (Like Ollie in an alternate universe where he was emotionally and mentally healthy, got adequate sleep, and had a decent relationship with his parents.) He occasionally modeled, but not as much before he transferred to our school. Call him a main character. Because damn, what a repertoire.

If I was remotely as impressive as Isaac I probably wouldn't need to try so hard to win Em over.

"Robyn, you good?" Em asked, tapping my shoulder. I'm glad I didn't jolt out of my thoughts.

"Um, yeah, What's up?"

"You were spacing out. I was just asking you if you finished the schedule, because you know, it has to revolve around your practice."

"Ah, right." Just because it turns on after school hours doesn't mean that demonic robo-baby, I mean Jaime, interferes with school activities. Basketball practice meant Em was probably the one to handle the brunt of it right after school. The extracurriculars Em was involved in were student council, student ambassadors, and the library. This could seem like a lot, but our school was lax because Stuco only met once a month and had easy bare minimum requirements for volunteer hours which he did on weekends. Student ambassadors sounded even fancier, but honestly, they only met like three times the entire year and that was to only help set up/tear down for events like homecoming, prom, and graduation. And with the librarians, he only helped on Monday, which was today, so he was basically free for the rest of the week. And I felt bad about it.

"So, did you fill it out?"

"Yeah. You already knew these, but let's go over it. I have practice from Monday to Thursday after school for two hours. But we also have film sessions on Wednesdays and those could take up an extra hour. That's it school-wise, but now my mom is going to be home."

"She said it's fine, and of course, we can be in my house as well."

"Maybe we can trick Emily into doing our project by playing house."

"As tempting as that is, and I'm sure she'd probably do better than you, may I remind you that this is a large part of our health grade, so I'm not going to risk it.

"Yeah, yeah, I was joking." Kinda.

"If we're lucky, our Jaime will be on the easier setting," Emerson shrugged.

~~~

"I wanna throw Jaime in the toilet so bad," I almost sobbed as I desperately rocked him in my arms. "There is no way this thing is on easy mode. He's been crying nonstop for the past 10 minutes and my arms are already sore from practice." I didn't even get a chance to shower and I was hungry. But you don't see me whining.

"You're wearing the wristband, correct?" Em checked without looking up. He was on his phone looking at the notes we took. The wristband was what allowed us to take care of the baby, without it, it would be futile and none of the progress would be recorded. He sighed through his nose. "Since it's been way past the two-minute threshold, we're going to get points docked off for missed neglect."

"Of course, I'm wearing a wristband. This baby is defective, just say the chime didn't register. Miss Amelie would believe you, Mr. Teacher's Pet."

"I don't think so," he said.

"I've changed his diapers after you fed him in the library. You're lucky he didn't cry while you were there."

Em sighed. "Yeah, of course, he starts making a fuss when you're here." The baby was absolutely a breeze to handle the first day, basically sleeping the entirety of the first night. So we were convinced it was on the easy setting. But then I didn't think so.

Instead of trying to remedy the situation, Em took a photo of my plight. "Help me, don't take pics!"

He scoffed. "Please, this experience won't last forever, but memories will. One day we'll laugh all about this."

Memories? More like trauma. This is making me not want to have kids, like ever. "Please, Em."

"Give me Jaime." Em put him over his shoulder and patted his back. "You doofus, I don't think you burped Jaime. You're going to have to change his diapers again soon."

If this is how much you have to change a fake baby, I can't even imagine how many diapers are used up by a real baby that actually shits. "I hate this," I groaned.

"I just sent you a cheat sheet on Jaime's cries I researched," Em said while rocking back and forth in the spot. I pulled out my phone and saw he had copy and paste,

'Neh escalated means "I'm hungry" Eh repetitive means "I need to be burped" (Discomfort/push sounds) means "I need a diaper change" Silent hmm means "I need to be rocked"'.

"Not even gonna lie, I didn't even know they had different cries."

Emerson shrugged. "It's a hack that most people don't know about. But don't think it applies to real babies. Anyways, I think Jaime is finally letting up." The whining and crying finally subsided. I grabbed the car seat and put Jaime in it.

"Please just sleep, baby," I pleaded with the inanimate object as if that would magically change its mind.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," said my mom in the doorway behind us. Em, and I turned to the sound of her voice.

"Mom, hi." She leaned against the door frame with a hand on her hip.

Emerson winced. "Oh, I'm sorry, did the baby wake you up?"

"Don't be sorry. I wasn't asleep anyway. I was just watching some TV in my room. Besides, this is still nothing compared to taking care of a real baby, or at least, Robyn."

"Mom..."

"It's okay. You'll always be my little Birdie." She pinched my cheeks like I was a toddler.

"Did you need something?" I asked, rubbing at the sore spot on my cheeks.

"No, but I have some good news, boys."

"Really, what is it, Mom?"

"I'll be starting work at one of my friends' floral shops!"

"Congrats! That's a step closer to your full recovery," Em said, ecstatic.

I wasn't as fast getting excited. "Are you sure you're good enough to work again? I'm glad you're happier and you do look better, Mom, I just worried you might be pushing yourself."

"Son, I understand your concern, but this lady has had enough rest. Besides I'm only going to be doing some light packaging and cleaning until I can get back to full speed and maybe reapply to my old job. I also sometimes help Elsa take care of her baby." My stomach churned at the thought of my mom taking care of my aunt's problems. My mom already was dealing with enough herself, and I wasn't too keen on her working more than she already had to.

"Mom, you don't need to. She's already moved out, you have no obligation."

My mom lightly smacked my arm and reprimanded me. "Now, dear, that is no way to talk about my sister. I don't understand why you two get along like estranged siblings, but Elsa truly changed for the better and definitely is in a better place. Since she helped around the house while I didn't feel the best, I'm only repaying the favor."

"Yes, Mom."

"You should also shower while the baby is still asleep," Em commented.

"You should, my stinky boy," my mom said, pushing me towards my bathroom/wardrobe.

"Geez, I got the memo," I said, lifting my hands up.

~~~

"Wow, your eyebags look worse than usual," Oliver said. Today in weights class we wanted to work on core strength so we decided to go to the furthest corner to do wall sits and leg raises away from everyone. Oliver and I were on adjacent power towers, so I used my right leg to kick Oliver's form. He jumped down and flipped me off when the gym teacher wasn't looking.

"Don't even start. That stupidass baby kept me up all night."

"Guess your family simulator with Emerson wasn't as romantic as you thought it'd be."

I snorted. "Absolutely not. How did you guys even deal with it?"

Nathan and Oliver both shrugged. Nathan spoke, "Oh, we took health online during the summer so we'd have a free period this school year. Is it really that bad?"

"What? I didn't even know you could take health online." Curse those school counselors. They didn't really like promoting online school unless a student needed to retake it. "And it's awful. I'm pretty sure the baby woke up anywhere from nine to eleven times during the night, I don't know I lost count, and I swear the later it woke up, the louder those damn cries were. I was tempted to just smother it in a pillow but Em convinced me not to because it'd probably record that it cried without attention for hours. And then no one would be able to sleep."

"Wait a minute," Nathan said, "you and Emerson took care of it together... last night?" I nodded. "Like at your house?"

"Yeah."

"Did y'all sleep together?" The suggestive tone was misplaced.

"Technically we sleep together almost every night," I said deadpan.

"Pause," Oliver murmured off to the side.

I rolled my eyes. "Like genuine sleep. Nothing of the likes you're thinking of."

"I'm impressed dude," Oliver commented. "Surely you can't be that deep in the friend zone?"

"I have no idea." I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at my pathetic crush. "Try bro-zone, because he's called me a brother in the past."

"I mean, Selena Gomez always said that Justin was like a little brother to her and we saw how that played out," Nathan pointed out.

"Hey, Nate and I interchangeably use bro or babe. Don't take it too seriously. You guys aren't actually brothers." They were just poking at me for fun at this point.

"Okay, dude. Don't blame me if I'm wary of taking relationship advice from you, Oliver." I pointed to Nathan, "You almost fumbled him."

"Don't remind me," Oliver said ducking his head in embarrassment. "And I did fumble, really badly." It was an astronomical fumble, honestly. "I'm just lucky Nate gave me a second chance."

Nathan crossed his arms. "You're dang right I did."  In my curiosity, it was very tempting to ask about Cleo since she was also a victim, but I knew it was still very much a touchy subject for both of them. "Now you're going to have to make it up to me for the rest of your life." He looked around before hooking his arm around Oliver's shoulders and squeezing him.

"Aww is that proposal?" I asked.

"It's a threat," Nathan said sweetly.

~~~

Emerson was strapping the baby in the carrier and securing it in the car. This was right after practice and his satchel was filled with diapers and Jaime's bottle, it was interesting sightseeing Em in soccer mom mode. "We can stay at my house tonight since my mom wants me to run to the supermarket and cook something for Emily."

"Your mom's not home?" I asked, getting into Emerson's Camry.

"She has a business trip because one of her clients wanted her in person to see the space."

"Bet she's getting bank."

"Definitely. She said it was some rich person in Colorado. She's basically getting a vacation so she won't be back until Sunday."

"Good for her." I paused for a moment. "Do you think she'll be getting lit?" The devil's lettuce wasn't allowed in our state, but it definitely was in Colorado.

Em sighed. "You know, she's a full-grown adult and that's her choice. My mom can be wild sometimes, so who knows."

"Your mom is crazy. But like in a good way." She's one of the few adults that I know could probably keep up with current pop culture and not in the cringe 'hello fellow kids' way. Em might be opposed, but she was hilarious when need be and supportive at all times. I wish the same could be said for my mom. It was my dad that held our family together, so without him, our dynamic completely changed.

"Trust me, you don't want to see her crazy. In a bad way." Couldn't be as bad as my mom when she drank.

"So what did Diana want us to get from the grocery store?"

"Tonight I'm cooking pasta, so ingredients for that. Some snacks that Emily and I like. Coffee creamer for my dad. Milk, eggs, bread. I'll probably make beef broccoli as well. That's about it, shouldn't be too much."

"Really? You say that but then you pass by something you think you need and throw it in the cart, " I said, giving Em a knowing look. With most things, he was meticulous and stuck to a regimen, or in this case a setlist. However, he'd always second-guess if they didn't have something back at home. Always trying to be prepared.

Em raised his arms. "Okay, I feel called out. I can't help it, you know. Sometimes I'm doing something and realize we've run out of one thing and I try to make a mental note, but I'm trying to multitask by doing another thing. But then it actually comes time to buy it and I buy everything else but it."

"Y'all need to get a family grocery list to stick to the side of your fridge so everyone knows."

"That doesn't seem too bad."

"Yeah, just teach Emily that she can't put every toy or gadget she wants on it," I said while shrugging

"Why do I have a feeling you did that as a kid?"

"You don't understand how much I wanted a Snackeez cup."

"You always struck me as a Wubble-Bubble kid."

Nostalgia hit me like a brick. "That, too. Anything that was labeled 'As Seen On TV' got me in a chokehold. Tell me why I wanted Flex Tape as if I needed it as a third grader."

"It's because Phil Swift carried those commercials. My mom unironically uses Scrub Daddy to clean our house."

"You should tell her to get a Scrub Mommy. They're more versatile and are the same price."

"Who would've thought, women do it better."

While we were in the supermarket, I was trailing behind Em with the cart, baby thrown in the basket. Well, not thrown, but I wish. The entire time I was internally willing it not to throw a fit in the middle of the store.

"Ah, shoot. I forgot we ran out of paper towels. Robyn, you can stay here and get some milk and eggs, I'll go back to the toilet paper aisle."

"Wait–" I called out to Emerson because I had questions, but he speedily walked away. How many eggs did he want? What brand of milk did he want? As much as I stayed at his house, and vice versa, I was obviously not someone to remember trivial things like that.

I made my way to the refrigerated section but was stopped by someone's weird grandma. "Aww, is that baby yours?" That question had layers to me, so I hesitated.

"Yeah?" My voice raised at the end. Right now it was, but it was the school's property. Also, the fact that it wasn't... real. But that completely flew over her head it seemed.

She squinted her eyes. "Aren't you a little young to have a lil' one yourself?"

Woah, she was being serious. I didn't know how to respond. Old people always be judgemental, but got married at sixteen with a twenty-year-old they've barely known.

"And if I was?"

"I say that was an unwise choice, but if you can sufficiently provide for him, then it's not a problem."

Then, I saw Em approaching with a three-month supply of paper towels. He placed it on the rack on the underside of the cart and raised an eyebrow at me. I gave a slight shrug and smiled.

This senile old lady was flicking her eyes between us. "This baby is both of y'all's?"

Emerson was bewildered and uncomfortable, as he was in most interactions with strangers, but especially with weirdos like this lady. So I was surprised when he spoke up first. "Yes ma'am. Is there a problem?"

She took a step back. "No, have a nice day." Her mannered words did not at all match the tone or the look on her face. I know homophobic undertones when I hear them.

"What was that about?" Em gave her the sideye.

"Okay, let's assume we were a straight couple with a real baby, do you think she would've asked to hold Jaime?"

"Is that what this was about?" Em's face was increasingly contorting.

I shrugged. "She gives me those weird vibes that she would caress a pregnant woman's stomach without asking."

Emerson snorted and nodded in agreement. "You think she was going to snatch Jaime?"

"She does look like Mother Gothel. Not the milf version, the dusty version."

That made him snort. "That's foul. Someone needs to collect their grandma and put her back in the nursing home."

"If I had a penny for every time we both experienced homophobia by strangers, I'd have two, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice with you." I was testing something. "Considering... you're not gay."

"Haha, yeah, weird." He crossed his arms, his right hand squeezing his left upper arm. "Wow, you got two dozen eggs. Do you think we live with Gaston?" he tried to joke, but only the corner of his mouth twitched.

"I mean you're set with life with all those paper towels," I pointed out.

"Point taken," he pursed his lips.

~~~

We picked up Emily from school and she sat on her car booster seat on the left side, Jaime on the right. "Is that the project you've been talking about, Emmie?" She peered into the carrier. "Ew, it looks weird."

I gasped. "You did not just say that about our son. Em, did you hear what she said about our Jaime?"

"Well, look at it. It looks like you guys did a bad job feeding it," she said poking it's legs. Kids could sure be ruthless.

"Please, he's been quiet. He might start fussing from rough handling."

"How much longer do you have it for?"

"Just one more night. I think. If it is Thursday today," I second-guessed myself.

Em pinched his nose bridge. "Yes, thankfully it's Thursday. We bring Jaime back tomorrow." That sounded so wrong like we wanted a refund for it. Honestly, in a way, I wanted to refund my time and sleep.

"Yeah, these long nights make everything blend together." This was so disorientating.

"So it's not fun?" Emily asked.

"Nope. We can't even play dress up with it. Jaime has to wear its daytime outfit, that pink one with the shorts, and then at night, it has a green onesie. And since it's cold it needs to wear the purple suit over the pink clothes," Em explained. Honestly, I'd be lost without him. I don't know how he kept track of all that.

"Can't be that hard," Emily shrugged.

"Depends on the baby. Emily, you were honestly really easy to take care of," Emerson pointed out.

Emily grinned. "Of course, I'm an angel," she snickered, dramatically batting her eyelashes.

"Runs in the family," I said, looking at Em.

He averted my eyes and swiped at his nose. "Actually, I was kinda turd when I was two."

"Oh, stop being humble. Everyone was. There's a reason why it's called the Terrible Twos."

"How was I when I was two?" Emily asked.

"Well, I was nine, so it's been a while but I don't particularly remember you being that bad. That's just normal childhood development."

"That's why Mama is a superhero."

"That's why many moms are superheroes," Emerson smiled. I admired how good their relationship was with their parents. It was nice to see such a strong support system. Of course, I was extremely lucky Charlie and Diana basically treated me like their son, but it was also a reminder of what I didn't have back at home.

While I played some Mario Kart with Emily on the Scott's widescreen, I could smell the aroma of Em's cooking. Em's phone started ringing, so I had to pause the game, which caused Emily to flip out because according to her, she was about to win. I smiled at her and held a finger to my lips. I called out to Emerson. "Hey, Em your phone's ringing!"

"Who is it?"

"Your mom," I said, for once, unironically. "Diana is trying to Facetime."

"Oh! Hurry up and answer. You can talk to her, just tell her I'm cooking."

"Kay." I pressed the green button to answer. I was met by Diana in a suit, with her hair pulled into a tight bun compared to her usual messy one, and instead of being in a silk or bathrobe, in a dressed-up blouse. So I could tell she just got done with one of her business dinners. "Hey, Diana."

"Oh! Evening, Robyn. How are you? Is that little project of yours giving you a hard time?"

"Tired. As always. And yeah, but Em and I should get a good grade. Speaking of Em, he's cooking right now, that's why he couldn't answer."

"Oh, I figured as much. Anyways I called to see if the house hasn't burned down, and I'm glad to see it hasn't."

"Yet," I interjected.

"Yet," Diana agreed with a laugh. "Okay, being for real here. Tell Emily to do her homework."

Ahh, I see what this is about. That's probably why Emily was sitting quietly in the background rather than jumping to say hi to her mom. I get it.

"Of course, of course."

"I'm being serious, Birdie," she chastised with an easygoing smile, "it's building good habits she'll need later in life." I made eye contact with Emily and she was shaking her head and rolling her eyes aggressively.

"You're right, Diana."

"Well, it's been nice talking to you, son, but I'm afraid I'll have to hang up now. I need to call Charlie and remind him that drinking coffee in the evening is a bad idea. Goodnight darling!" She enthusiastically waved as she left. Despite her age and being a mom of two, she had a young soul and it shows, her healthy marriage and cushy job making her age gracefully.

I looked at Emily who was trying to tiptoe away from me. "You heard the boss."

She groaned and trudged her way back to the living room, as if her feet were weighed down. "Unfortunately."

"Come on. It should be easy. I'll help you and we'll probably be done before Em is done cooking dinner."

Her eyes lit up and she quickly grabbed her backpack. She sat down and crossed her legs. "To be honest, it is easy. It's annoying that they're so many problems we have to turn in."

"You know what your mom said? 'It builds good habits.' Trust me." It was ironic since I didn't feel like doing my homework half the time, then again, I somehow managed to pull through on most of my tests. I don't know how much longer that'll last for, though.

"You're a hippo-critt," Emily stumbled over her words, but I was still impressed she knew how to use that word as a fourth-grader. Because I definitely didn't. Then again, Em probably did. Nerd.

"You're calling moi a hypocrite?"

"Yeah, that. You and Emmie always go out and do fun things together, as if you're doing your homework," she scoffed while she easily filled out her basic math problems. Looks like she didn't need my help.

"Long division? You know I cried when I first started to learn it?"

"Really? It's not that hard. It's actually kinda fun."

Dang, humbled by a fourth-grader. "Well, doesn't matter that much. We get to use calculators in high school anyways."

Emily raised her eyebrows. "Well, you'll regret saying that when you take the no calculator portion on the SAT."

"That's future me's problem." Emily has been acting sassier than usual. I thought this stage of puberty didn't hit til a little later, but they always said 'Girls develop faster than boys'. She definitely got a growth spurt because I was seriously doubting carrying her now. I was surprised she still used her booster seat.

"She's got a point," Emerson interjected, walking into the living room with one of his mom's various aprons on. (That's not to say Charlie didn't have some, but they were not appropriate to wear in front of Emily.) Emerson's said 'Your Opinion Wasn't in the Recipe.' "Dinner is ready, come on, Emily. I know you're eager to not do that homework."

That got her to jump up. "I love you, Emmie!"

Em did a short laugh. "Haha, you're not off the hook, but go eat."

Emily started singing her 'pasta, pasta, pasta' song.

Em stayed behind. "You kinda reminded me of my dad."

"Ew," I said. Definitely–probably–didn't mean to say it out loud.

"Uh, no. I didn't mean it like that," he scrunched his nose in that cute way like a little bunny. "Just seeing you with Emily, it's just nice. I feel like you'd be a good dad." He paused. "Not that you have to have a kid. You're just surprisingly good with kids."

I crossed my arms. "Surprisingly?"

"Well, if you can survive the baby stage, then yeah. Because with the way our project is going, we'll barely get an A, that is if we write a good reflection as the saving grace."

I nodded my head. Duly noted. "Good to know you think this one measly brain cell has the capacity to raise a child."

"The potential." Emerson corrected.

Emily called from the kitchen. "Are you guys going to eat?" I could tell she was chewing. "The pasta is getting cold."

"Right!" Em exclaimed. "Don't eat it all." He waved at me. "Come on."

"Lemme grab Jaime." I picked up the uncharacteristically quiet baby doll and set the carrier on one of the kitchen chairs. (Disclaimer: don't do that with an actual baby, get a high chair.)

I gave myself a fat, steamy serving of Em's pasta. "Yo, this smells delicious."

"It's Nonna's recipe!" Emily said on her second serving already.

"Oh, Nonna Charlie? I love that woman."

Emerson smiled. "Thank you. I'll send her your regards."

"I wanna visit Nonna and Nonno."

"Same, but they live so far." Emerson's grandparents retired in South Dakota because they fell in love with the outdoors there. Guess they preferred mountains compared to our cornfields. I really don't blame them.

At least they wanted to see their grandparents. Half of mine died in a war or a disease, so while it seems sad, I never knew them growing up. So there was no attachment. With my remaining grandparents, being my mom's dad and my dad's mom, well, it's very difficult to say. My grandpa was disappointed with my aunt Elsa being a high school dropout so it was estranged on that note, especially since he knew my mom let her crash at our home. And I haven't seen my Grandma since my dad's funeral. She was grieving, naturally. I needed someone to support me and thought she needed someone too. I tried calling her landline, but no one picked up. I'm wondering if she finally got rid of it.

I blew on my fork of pasta. "Hey, Em, can you pass some hot sauce?"

Emerson gasped indignantly. "You're going to dare defile Nonna Charlie's pasta recipe?"

~~~

"Never again," I said, dumping the baby carrier in front of Miss Amelie's desk.

"That's a great sign," she said. "Now imagine carrying that baby for nine months and still having to take care of it like you did this week, but for multiple years. And even after those years, they grow up to be emotionally snappy and occasionally ungrateful teens. Some moms may not even have a partner to help them. Having a child is no joke. I'd know, I have five. Humbling, isn't it?"

Huh. When she put it like that. Maybe I do have to have a talk with my aunt. What did I know? I swallowed and nodded at my health teacher. "For sure," I said and quickly took my seat.

"Now that I have all babies and items accounted for, let's have a discussion before you write your reflections. I want you to get into groups of four to six and talk about the best and worst aspects of this project. Learn from your fellow classmates' experiences as well."

Due to the convenience of where we were sitting, our group consisted of me, Em, Austyne, and Isaac.

Austyne raised her hand. "Okay, okay, I'll start. Geez, where do I even start?" She looked at Isaac while shaking her head. "The first night I had the baby."

"Wait, did you guys name your baby?" I interjected.

"Uhm, no. Naming it means you're required to be attached to that thing, and I sure as hell wasn't." Austyne continued, "Anyways, the first night, I had the baby. Awful. I left the carrier on my bedroom floor because it's not like I had a bassinet. Besides, if I had to rock it, it'd be easy to stick my leg out from my bed and rock it with my foot."

"Huh, that sounds smart." Em probably thought it was lazy, though

"Yeah, in theory. But my dog thought it was one of her squeaky toys so she started to toss it around. Oh my gosh, literally the worst thing to happen. Now the report is gonna think we abused it. It cried for a lot after it. I'd say that were some of the worst aspects. Now with the good aspects, I guess feeling like a mother. I don't know, maybe something inside me gave me motherly instincts and it was nice taking care of something like that. I guess some people could compare it to a pet, like my dog, but no, it was really a unique experience."

"Interesting," I said. "How about you, Isaac?" Now I wanted to hear what Mr. Golden Boy thought.

"It elicited emotions of empathy for me. It was like a double-edged sword, being both good and bad aspects in a way. I was put in my mother's shoes since she was a single mom for a long time, and it felt like it was difficult doing things alone. It made me sad because I realized how many sacrifices parents have to make. When I hung out with my boyfriend or other friends, I had to excuse myself to take care of the baby. Combined with extracurriculars, it was a lot. It takes discipline, emotionally, mentally, and not just being financially stable.

"When it cried, it felt like discouraging, like I wasn't enough. I can't even begin to feel how my mom felt as a young single mother, you know? How much she's acted fine when it was really hard. I've just earned an exponential amount of appreciation for her and other single and teen moms." I took a glance to see that Em's eyes were tearing up. Which, was totally understandable.  It was such a mature response. Even though Isaac was only a year older than me, I could feel the drastic gap in maturity and it was like I was a stupid little child. I felt the shame and guilt creeping up my neck, prickling it like a necklace of thorns. I realized how embarrassing my behavior had been this whole time.

"That is a very mature perspective," Emerson said softly. I was so ignorant. Em had been telling me the whole time to hear the full story.

Austyne put her hand over her mouth. "Well, now it just sounds like I was complaining, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to undermine your mom's struggles."

Isaac waved his hand. "No, no it's fine. I didn't mean it to sound like such a Debbie-Downer. I was just trying to appreciate a mother's resilience."

Our discussion became deep and I decided I wasn't going to complain. Instead, I brought up the offhanded homophobic remarks from the old lady earlier. I know it's risky to bring up a part of my identity I wasn't ready to come out and talk about yet, but I felt safe with everyone in our discussion circle.

"I completely understand," Isaac said.

"Yeah, considering you are actually in a queer relationship," Austyne commented on the obvious. She may occasionally say some airheaded things, but at least she had basic human decency. But her gaydar was unbelievably worse than Em's.

"My grandma was like that. She was the Pentecostal front-pew church lady. So imagine her face when I bring my boyfriend to Christmas dinner. So, I get it."

"Did things get better between you and your grandma?" I asked.

"She actually took it pretty well, which shocked me. But she quoted a Bible verse saying she has 'no right to judge because that's God's job.' So she's fine with it." Isaac shrugged. That gave me hope with my mom.

"Yeah, actually my mom took it way worse than my grandma. That was the real shocker." Oh. Nevermind.

And before I could even ask about it, Miss Amelie interrupted. "Okay, I think I've heard enough discussion. Some of us got really off track." She glanced at the corner of the classroom. "Ahem. Simone." Simone was a total stoner. I would've loved to hear his story.

"I did take it bungee jumping!"

Miss Amelie cleared her throat. "Okay, everybody go back to your seats so you can write your reflections. And Simone, if you draw a doddle instead of writing at least three sentences, you're failing this project." She was thoroughly exasperated.

"Will you give me extra credit if I draw a doodle with my reflection?"

"Maybe."

~~~

"You've been spacing off lately," I said to Em. It was the evening and I already tucked myself in Em's bed. Em, however, was sitting at his desk. He was supposed to be working on math problems, but I hadn't heard him scratch the paper with his pencil in a long time. Instead, he had been spinning it around his fingers while staring at his wall.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm tired."

"Did the project really take that much out on you?"

Emerson looked back at me with tired eyes. "I guess so." I think it was other than that, but if he didn't feel like talking about it, then I wasn't going to push it.

I held out my arms. "Come here."

"What?" he chuckled.

"You need rest," I said while patting the spot next to me, "I warmed it just for you. You're doing fine in math. Mr. Tejada doesn't collect homework anyways."

"I know. We have a math test tomorrow," Em said with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh shit. There is?"

"Yes," he sighed, but was already standing up and making his way to the bed. He laid down facing up at his ceiling. "Eh, whatever. It's my second time doing the review anyway." His eyebrows scrunched.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" I twisted so I was lying on my side to face Em and propped my hand under my head.

"I feel like I'm forgetting something," he squinted, trying his darned best (and cutest) to remember whatever he forgot.

He looked at me as if I was any help. I shrugged. "If you don't know, don't expect me to know either."

Em closed his eyes for a brief moment, then abruptly snapped them open. Eureka. "Oh shoot. I forgot about our clay sculptures."

"Yeah?" Oh, so it wasn't anything too serious after all.

"Don't look at me like that," he said and flicked my forehead. Ouch. "I need to give the pot to your mom and Nathan and Oliver need to have theirs as well."

"Is it really that serious?"

"Yes, of course. I might have put it in a moist trash bag, but it's only a matter of time before they dry out. So we need to fire it in the oven, it's no kiln but it needs to set."

"And you need to do this... now?"

"No. I'm doing it after school tomorrow."

"Okay." I twisted to my original position on my back with my hand behind my pillow.

I scrolled through my phone for so long I didn't evn realize it was past midnight. Em had long fallen fast asleep, but his desk lamp was still on. I quietly slipped out by the foot of the bed and tiptoed to turn it off. Before I did, I looked the math work he was supposed to be doing earlier. There was lined paper scattered with math problems, but within the margins were doodles. Roses? Ballerinas? Eyes? Em wasn't an artist, but I could vaguely recognize them. I didn't get the pattern or correlation with any of them. Maybe he was bored and mindlessly drawing. Heck, I did that a lot in our social studies class.

Whatever has been occupying his mind lately has made him shrink back to his more introverted self. Once again he was an observer. Just when I thought he was becoming more open and overcoming his social anxiety. Was it my fault? Come to think of it, he has been like this since my birthday. I looked back over my shoulder to see Em still sleeping. His chest was peacefully rising and falling. Man, I was so tired.

I don't blame him for not talking about it. I had no room to talk. As long as he didn't start to shut people off. I mean, after all, he was the biggest advocate of communication. So, whenever he's ready.

I was avoiding a long list of things myself. Turning off the lamp, I whispered,

"I'll wait for you, Em."

~~~

Emerson was taking our clay sculptures out of his oven while singing to himself. Swaying to the song that was playing from the living room television, he pulled the aluminum tray out. He immediately went straight to fire the clay after school

"What're you dancing to?"

"I don't know, just join me," he smiled. I'm pretty sure it was a Frank Sinatra by the swoon of his voice and the smooth swing instrumentals. No surprise, Em liked his old songs.

I held Emerson by the waist and began to slow dance. Albeit, unceremoniously because I have zero formal dancing background whatsoever, Em was surprisingly keeping up and put his arms on my shoulders.

"What are you doing?"

"You told me to join you, I think this is the appropriate dance. Unless you want me to start breakdancing?"

"No, no. It's fine."

The atmosphere was impeccable, so domestic, so intimate. My sneakers occasionally squeaked on the tiled kitchen floors, the music echoed through his spacey home, the aroma of cinnamon sugar and pumpkin candles permeated the air, and the heat from the oven kept the kitchen warm. The flannel Em wore was two sizes too big, swallowing up his shoulders like a blanket would.

The music switched to a more modern artist but with the same vibe. Valentine by Laufey.

For everything that made my life feel like a punching bag in the past, lately, it's felt like a Disney movie. If it meant I got to experience moments like this, then I'd do it all over again.

I led Em around the kitchen as we spun round and round, occasionally getting my toes stepped on. But it was okay because it made him laugh, and he was smiling. I pressed his waist against his kitchen island. The music faded and I leaned in. I lifted my left hand to thumb his heart-shaped birthmark under his eye.

I want to kiss him so bad. I want to taste his raspberry chapstick. But I couldn't bring myself to lean in.

Em tilted his head back, hitting one of the two low-hanging light fixtures over the island table, and cursed under his breath, causing him to flinch and kick the table. In a sick, twisted stroke of misfortune I'm starting to get used to, one of the clay sculptures fell off the tray and onto the ground. He gasped loudly and clapped his hand over his mouth.

As I looked at the ground I saw it was my sculpture that shattered into a few pieces with micro fragments here and there. Overall, there was a mess on the kitchen floor. Pushing off the island counter, Em frantically scrambled to pick them up.

"Oh no," he said dejectedly at the broken pieces. "Maybe I can fix it?"

I squatted next to him and held his wrist.

"Robyn?"

"You cut your finger."

He first looked down at his index finger and dropped the piece he was holding in resignation. Then he looked up at me with glassy eyes. It was almost like his eyes were twinkling with the stars. He exhaled shakily.

He was the one who leaned in.

Mmm. raspberry. So this is what it tastes like to kiss him. You had me wrapped in your fingers from the start, Emerson Leigh Scott.

~~~

Author's Note: sorry that took so long I had to rewrite the entire thing bc stupid Wattpad wouldn't let me copy and paste. anywayss. does the ending suffice for how long I made y'all wait? If not, don't tell me. It's not proofread and there's definitely a lot of grammatical mistakes b/c it's too damn long and I ain't got the time.

word count: 16,930 (wtf almost 17,000 words gtfo)