All characters in this chapter are 18+, and any similar names are completely coincidental.
--
The school day seemed to zoom by.
Emily felt numb throughout all of her classes. As she was sitting in her final class, her art elective, she realized how little she had paid attention that entire day. She had been in a state of mindlessness, daydreaming about Tristan. She couldn't seem to take her mind off of him. Every time she was able to distract herself, Tristan would appear beside her and kiss her on the forehead, and suddenly she turned into mush all over again.
Now, she glanced over to her left. Tristan was slumped over his desk, somewhat listening to the art professor. She had been babbling on for the past hour about color theory. Tristan turned to face her and yawned. She smiled at him, and he returned the grin. Her stomach did a flip, and as she turned, she cursed herself for being so affected.
The last thirty minutes of class passed by relatively quickly, and once they did, Emily was eager to get out of the stuffy classroom. She looked back and waited for Tristan. Soon enough, he appeared in the doorway; he grinned as he noticed Emily leaning against the wall. He reached for her hand. As soon as his skin made contact with hers, a sharp shock ran up through her spine and she shivered slightly. Tristan squeezed her hand briefly.
"I have practice for an hour and a half." His expression turned worried. "Will you be fine waiting?"
"I can just walk home and wait for you."
He nodded. "All right. I'll see you soon." He leaned down and kissed her. She let out a quiet whimper as Tristan's arms reached around her, and his hand cupped her cheek. Then they pulled apart. He gave her a quick wave and disappeared around the corner.
Emily stood motionless for a few seconds, staring off at where Tristan had just left. With a sigh, she turned and walked out into the parking lot.
It was quite chilly out, and Emily shivered and rubbed her arms quickly. Straightening her shoulders, she started to walk down the sidewalk.
"Wait! Emily!"
Emily swiveled. Then she smiled. "Angela?"
"How come you're leaving so early?"
"What do you mean?"
"Aren't you always studying at the library after school?"
Emily frowned. She blushed. "Tristan's coming over to study."
Angela threw her head back and laughed. "Really? Even I couldn't get you to stop going to the library, but Tristan could?"
"He's different," Emily added with a wistful smile.
"I see. Any chance you wanted to go see a movie this weekend?"
"With Tristan?"
Angela doubled over with laughter. "Seriously?"
"What?" Emily asked, blushing.
"No, just us two."
She brought up her mental calendar. "Sure. Just text me when and where."
Angela nodded. She waved and started walking the other direction. "I'll see you tomorrow."
--
Emily leaned back in her spinning chair and bit at the tip of her pencil idly.
She had been staring at the same stupid history problem for the past hour. She glanced at the clock, She was hopeless with history. But Tristan wasn't. She sighed. Where was he anyway? Did he say his practice ended in an hour and half or an hour? Emily's stomach grumbled. With a groan, she trotted downstairs to make something to eat.
It turned out that she was just as hopeless with cooking as she was with history. She attempted to make a Hot Pocket, but only succeeded in creating some sort of black, ashy, bar of... something. Grumbling under her breath, she tossed the burnt snack into the trash can. She settled on a glass of orange juice.
She swiveled as she heard a click from her front door. It creaked open to reveal Tristan, who was a sweaty, hot mess after practicing. She frowned at the metal key in his hand.
"Where'd you get that?"
"You didn't hide it very well under the rock."
Emily scowled, and Tristan simply grinned back at her.
That stupid, adorable, fucking smile,
she thought to herself. He tossed the key onto the counter. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of Tristan's neck and into the already soaked collar of his shirt. She could imagine it trailing down his abs and deeper into his...
"Mind if I take a shower?"
She nodded. "Sure. Upstairs t-"
"The left, yeah, I know." He flashed her his adorable grin one last time before disappearing up the stairs. A few seconds later she could hear the water running. Sighing, she couldn't help but disappear back into her thoughts.
She imagined the shower water pouring on top of them, trailing down each crevice of their bodies. Then Tristan would push her up against the wall, breathing deeply beside her ear as water poured down onto their necks. And then his fingers would slip down her body, first caressing her stomach, then moving down lower, to her more sensitive spots. And with his other hand, he would keep her waist pressed against his crotch, and his fingers would lock around her waist, and they would-
They would...
They would... what?
Have sex? Fuck until they were exhausted?
Or would it be something more intimate?
Would they be powered just by their own greedy necessities, or would it be out of love?
Love?
Were they even at that point in their relationship? She slumped against the kitchen island. What was the point? They would probably never see each other again after high school. And Emily's heart would just be broken all over again, and she'd be left to pick up the pieces and try to puzzle them back together, while Tristan would be out finding and hooking up with cuter, better girls, and she would be alone, destined to be lonely and by herself for the res- A tear spilled down her cheek. She put her head into her arms, and she sobbed.
--
Tristan stepped out of the shower, turning shower knob with a squeak. Whistling, he began to dry his body and hair. Then the whistling stopped as he heard a sound from downstairs. It was unmistakable. He quickly pulled on his clothes and crept towards the stairs.
When he was halfway down, he saw Emily leaning over the counter, sobbing quietly into her arms.
--
What was stopping her?
What was in her life that was preventing her from...
Everyone she loved seemed to leave her life. So why should she be in theirs? She knew that the kitchen knives were right behind her. She knew how easy it would be just to reach over and to feel the sharp edge digging into the skin of her-
Two arms wrapped around her stomach.
