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“What the hell is the matter with you?” The woman demanded to know before she crossed her arms tighter and then grimaced in disgust at – what Regan guessed was – the wet stickiness of the coffee that still soaked the material. “I mean, adult-identified ADHD. But I don’t really like to look at it as something that’s wrong with me.”
“All I do with you is try. All I have ever done with you – for some stupid reason – is try. Especially since you moved in. And yeah, sometimes I mess up, or things don’t go according to plan–” “Sometimes?” She cut in because – really? Sometimes? Was Regan kidding her? This time, Regan ignored her. She shook her head. “But you never try with me. You never give me the benefit of the doubt or try to see anything from my side. You decided who I was the day we met – over an accident – and that was it.” Regan studied Emma as if reading her for the first time, a frown etching into her face. “So,
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Emma had torn Regan apart in less than ten minutes. The worst part was that Emma hadn’t even intended to be rude when she’d called Regan dumb, unorganized, irresponsible, and ambitionless. Nope, she’d stated it so casually. As if she and Regan were both on the same page about those facts. As if they were just those – facts.
“The trick to never letting that get to you is knowing that if someone doesn’t truly know you, ninety-nine percent of the time? Their opinion says far more about them than it does about you. Or, in the words of my grandmother: judgments made in ignorance are better left ignored.”
pursuing the truth may often mean facing facts you’re uncomfortable with – including facts such as realizing you were wrong.” Allegra nodded once, firmly, as if she’d given Emma the keys to the kingdom. “What you do with truths once you face them, well, that is where the world gets interesting, isn’t it?”
“I think,” she began, feeling uncharacteristically and uncomfortably nervous with the reality starting to set in. “That I regret not giving Regan a chance.” Emma’s eyes opened widely in wonder and surprise at the truth of those words. Because – yes. That was exactly it. She regretted their fallout not just because she felt bad about hurting Regan’s feelings. But because now that Regan wasn’t making any overtures toward her, she felt like she’d made a mistake. Like she’d missed out on something.
Oh, god, Regan was right. They were the female, real-life incarnates of Tom and Jerry. Emma, like Tom, was listless and unhappy without Jerry as a constant presence.
“I’ve never really met anyone that seems to want to get to know me the way you do.”
She pointed to herself. “Stubborn, remember?” Regan pointed to herself. “Doesn’t know when to stop, remember?” “Looks like we have a real what happens when an unstoppable force meets an unmovable object situation on our hands,” Emma mused. “The force wears the object down,” Regan answered easily. “It’s called erosion.”
keeping Regan at a distance wasn’t really a possibility. Regan was essentially a puppy; Emma had been slow to learn that. Now that she had, though, it was almost impossible for her to do anything to make Regan give her those big, sad eyes.
Moving quickly – they were on a deadline – she tugged on the outfit. “Thanks.” Finally, Emma looked at her. “For helping you pick out clothing?” Breathing out a slightly embarrassed laugh, Regan shook her head. “For wanting me to be… me.”
“Art,” Regan’s voice was so low. Low enough, Emma wasn’t certain she was supposed to overhear her. “You look like all of those classic sculptures of women in a museum. Like a piece of art.”
Amidst this whole realizing she was attracted to Emma aspect of her life, she’d forgotten that she was also Emma’s fake girlfriend. Oh, wow. Real attraction for a fake girlfriend. Not on her bingo card!
“I wish you’d told me that your little crush on the barista had becoming something more.”
“I think about your breasts and your thighs and your lips all of the time.”
It was that freaking look in Regan’s eyes, Emma thought, as she felt herself get caught up in them. The way she looked at Emma, like she would swear by every word she said. Like she wanted more than anything to make Emma… happy. It wasn’t something she’d ever experienced before,
It might technically only be the beginning of the date, but Emma got the distinct feeling that she was done for.
No one had ever looked at her the way Regan did, the way she was right now. Like she wanted to climb inside of Emma’s mind and know every single one of her thoughts.
“I feel like… I might be doing the most illogical, craziest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t fight against it, anymore. I don’t know how I could,” she admitted with a heavy shrug. “I’ve tried. Tried ignoring my attraction to you. Tried pushing it away. Tried reasoning that I just liked to spend time with you as a friend and tried to tell myself that it was enough. But I don’t think it is.”
“Maybe you are an acquired taste,” she acknowledged, her voice rasping out of her throat as she stepped closer. Putting herself into Regan’s personal space, another role-reversal first. With a mix of anticipation, uncertainty, and conviction, she lifted her hands to Regan’s hips. The tantalizing curve of them in Regan’s tight jean shorts had been distracting her all fucking night, and she’d been so good. Keeping herself on a tight leash and making sure they made it to the end of the date. Flexing her hands, she tugged Regan forward a few inches so their bodies brushed together. Regan tilted
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Groaning softly in the back of her throat, she slowly slid her tongue along Regan’s. Tasting her and that fucking vanilla ice cream she’d just had. “You’re right,” she muttered, not breaking their kiss, just speaking into Regan’s mouth. “Vanilla goes with everything.”
I liked waking up with you this morning. I liked going to sleep with you last night. I love how forthright you are, how you never make me wonder what’s on your mind. How you never make me question where you stand or how you feel or what you think. It’s never been my experience in dating, and I love it.”
The sight of Regan – even the thought of her – filled Emma with this intense, needy feeling. Not just her body, not just a sexually needy sensation – though, there was that, too. But something deeper, a place Emma had never really explored, before. Not even in the years she’d been in a relationship with Felicity. It made her feel giddy and excited and nervous, and like she couldn’t wait for more. Somehow, Regan had done this to her. She’d figured out how to slip into Emma’s life and infiltrate all of her privacy settings.
Her cleavage looked so incredible; Regan wanted to bury her face there and it was fine if she suffocated. She didn’t really care – in fact, she could die happy.
Because being loved by Regan wasn’t quiet or understated or modest; it was loud and sappy and heart-pounding, and the realest thing Emma had ever experienced.
