3 - Anastasia.

“Nosy bastard,” Emerson cusses under his breath as he fires up the ignition and backs out of the driveway. “There’s really no cogent reason he has for following me this evening. He just wants to be a dick. Too nice for his own damn good.”

“He’s still your father, Emerson. Do you have any idea where he’s headed?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. Don’t care. And you shouldn’t either. He’s a grown man. He knows how to handle himself.”

“Of course.”

“Guess what, baby?” Emerson is suddenly bright-eyed, excitement wafting off him. I push the thought of Nate to the back of my mind, and muster the best smile I can. “O’ve got my own place.”

“What?” I shake my head in disbelief. “Stop messing with me.”

“It’s true,” he laughs. “It’s right at the heart of town. You’ll love it.”

“I can’t believe Nate let you,” I poke his arm. “Congratulations.”

His smile fades, and he exhales, dragging a palm down his face. “Why do you have to be such a killjoy.”

I’m taken aback. “I’m sorry, what? What did I do wrong?”

“Stop mentioning my father. This is our date for crying out loud,” he manages, exasperated. “It’s already enough that I stayed with him throughout my life. Don’t give him the credit for my independence. I paid that rent, and I furnished the place. All by myself.”

I’m too stunned to speak. What did I even say wrong? Given how insanely protective of Emerson Nate is, I was simply surprised that he’d allowed him get his own place.

Not wanting to explain myself properly, I decided to let sleeping dogs lie. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says sharply, taking his eyes off the road to look at me, his eyes raking from my neck to my propped breasts and stays there. Discomfort settles in my gut. I know what’s on his mind. “Fuck the drinks. Let’s go home. We’ve got the night to ourselves. No disturbances. No supervision.”

Despite the fact that Emerson and I have been dating for the past four months, it’s worthy to note that we’ve never had sex. He’s been trying his best — constantly inviting me to sleepovers where he’d try to seduce me, but Nate has always been my saving grace. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s always popping in at the right time which frustrates Emerson a great deal. Maybe that’s why he’s not as nice and easy-going as he was at the beginning of our relationship.

And that explains his recent visible distaste for his father.

Well jokes on him because if he thinks acting like a jerk towards me, and treating our relationship like a curse is going to get me to get into bed with him, he’s in for a big surprise. I’m a virgin, and I’ve always envisioned my first time to be with someone I truly care about. Someone who reciprocates energies one-hundred percent. Nate might not be around to save me tonight, so I’ll do the saving myself.

I won’t let Emerson be my first.

We pull up to the new apartment, and I’m surprised at the streets still active by this time of the night. It’s really situated at the heart of town. Emerson parks and goes around to open the door for me, his eyes raking over my appearance once more. “You really love this particular dress. You’ve worn it thrice now.”

“Um,” I say, angling away from his hands. “Actually this is the first time I’m wearing this.”

His forehead creases with confusion, then he let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“Pay me no mind, love. Too much on my mind.” His eyes stop at my shoes. “Heels would fit you a great deal. You should try them often.”

I sigh, irritated to my core. This is not the first time he’s speaking about heels, and I’ve told him before that I just don’t like it. It’s not my thing.

“Emerson — ”

“Fine, fine,” he raises his hands up. “You act like I’m forcing you at this point, so I’ll let it be.”

There it is. That disappointing tone he always uses whenever he doesn’t get his way. It grates on my nerves. And who the hell frowns when giving out compliments? In more ways than one, as much as I hate to admit it, Emerson reminds me so much of...Dad.

“You’re not forcing me, but you do know it gets annoying when we have the same conversation about a particular thing, over and over again.”

He makes a face. “Sheesh. You take things way too seriously. It was just a suggestion, but you do you, I guess. Come on. Or are you that angry you don’t want to sleepover anymore?”

This is not a red flag. No, it’s a beeping red banner flashing at me, and logically, I should say yes and have him take me home. But I find myself letting him lead me inside. The place is spacious, nice, and the furnishings expensive. It doesn’t look like what Emerson would be able to foot all by himself, so I know damn well Nate had helped out at one point. Once we’re inside, Emerson casually points at his make-shift bar as he heads for the toilet.

“Pour yourself a drink, and feel at home. I’ll be right back. Gotta take a piss.”

“Okay.”

Remembering Mom’s warning for me not to drink, I go over to the couch and relax my back just as Emerson re-enters from the bathroom. He flashes me his signature charismatic bad boy smile as he pours himself a drink, and I find myself wondering if that’s the reason I fell for him in the first place.

“I don’t normally say this, but I’ll be honest with you. You’re one in a million. Quiet, modest, humble. Very humble.”

The way he emphasizes the last part makes me doubtful that he’s complimenting me. “Uh...thank you.”

“Yes, and that’s why girls from low backgrounds are the best. They’re not bitches. They know the amount of work they have to put in to help themselves, and help their parents and family. They understand what a home with. Each day that passes, I’m so thankful I met you at that coffee shop.”

So I’m right. It is a backhanded compliment.

I’m trying to process his words as he leaves the barstool to come sit next to me. But as he does, the cushion behind him lifts up a little bit, and that’s when I see it; a flash of hot, damp pink. I instantly recognize it.

Fuck.