EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

Emerson’s Pov

“Honey, I’m home.”

The words drift through the dorm, warm and teasing, a result of a joke from last week. Something inside me flutters at the sound of his voice, every single time he comes back to me.

I’m standing by the sink, wrists deep in sudsy water. I grin, because somehow, even after three months of this — of us — I still can’t believe it actually.

I wipe my damp hands on the dish towel and walk out to meet my boyfriend.

My boyfriend. Adam is my fucking boyfriend.

Said boyfriend is standing there by the doorway, his T-shirt clinging to him, darkened with sweat from practice. His hair is a mess, sticking up in the most chaotic way ever and it attracts me to pet it.

He looks tired but then he sees me, and his entire face softens, the tension melting away. And his eyes, God, his eyes.

His baby blues fucking glitter when he looks at me after we've been apart for a little bit, like I’ve just walked out of one of his dreams and he’s still not sure I’m real. It’s so cute, I want to fucking bottle it up and wear it around my neck.

“How was training?” I ask, as I reach for his bag. Before he can protest, I sling it over my shoulder like some dutiful little housewife, and the thought makes me snicker under my breath.

“Thanks baby.” He groans softly, rolling his neck. “It was okay. Coach says I’m ready to play again, so I’ve been pushing myself a little harder.”

“Aww,” I coo, patting his floofy hair. “I’ll give you a massage later. Loosen you up a bit.”

I meant it the way I said it but the words are barely out of my mouth when I realize their potential. And judging by that change in his eyes, the way his gaze darkens, tells me that he received it any thing but innocently.

He smirks. “Oh I like the sound of that.”

I roll my eyes, laughing softly. “Naughty, naughty.”

“And whose fault is that, baby?” he teases, leaning down until his nose brushes against the side of my neck. His breath is warm, and I shiver despite myself.

“Down boy,” I tease. I've found that Adam's appetite might be more than mine, which is another thing that surprises me, because I have an average of two thoughts per minute in how I want him to fuck me.

He steps away, but only enough that we're not plastered against each other. “How’s your mom? And Al?” he asks, changing the subject gently.

I sigh, feeling like I can release some of the tension I've been carrying ever since. “They’re fine. I took flowers to them this morning.”

I cried at Al’s funeral. He hadn't been buried before someone moved his house and started selling out of it too. It hurt me to see my friend erased and it was by his grace that I swore.

No drugs. No buying, no selling, no using. When Al died, so did my link to the Larry Brothers so it was easy to just let that stay dead too.

Adam joined my pact of no drugs. I could have squealed with joy if I wasn't crouched over a grave.

And it may only have been three months but my conviction hasn't waned one bit. Now, when I start going to parties again, I’ll just drink. And kiss my boyfriend until people barf from how disgustingly cute we are.

“And how was modeling?” I ask, because I know that question makes him straighten up, makes him glow a little.

He grins, rubbing the back of his neck. “That was great. They said they’re officially adding me to their agency roster.”

I light up instantly, clapping my hands together. “That’s fucking awesome, Adam. Congratulations!”

We were a little worried, after our drug pact and him sending his father's slavery contract back to him with a picture of us kissing, but Adam's modelling career really kicked off.

That plus, the bartending and gigs I do and the future looks good, although Brad is still not speaking to me.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, looking at me like I lent him the legs he uses to model.

I preen, pretending to brush imaginary dust from my shoulder. “Obviously.”

He laughs again, and I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss. It tastes like sweat and airy and familiar and all Adam.

“Come on,” I murmur against his lips. “Let’s eat before we study. We’re behind again.”

Adam groans playfully, throwing his head back. “Do we have to?”

“Yes, we have to,” I say firmly, though I’m smiling. Last semester, he barely scraped through which is still a big achievement considering where he was coming from.

But this year, I’m determined to make sure he passes with no question, so that we can both move out of this dorm after we graduate.

“You moved the session from tonight?” He asks, mischievously. “Why?”

“Come on,” I say, smacking his chest. “You know what happens when we try to study at night. Why do you think we’re behind in the first place?”

“We multitask, yes,” he grins, dragging a laugh out of me.

“You're impossible.”

“Ivy and Petra are coming over tomorrow, by the way,” I say, stepping back toward the kitchen before I melt completely. “By four. We’ll have a sleepover.”

He gasps dramatically. “Wait, why wasn’t I invited?”

I laugh, setting plates on the counter. “I’m inviting you now, aren’t I?

He grins, sauntering closer. “I’ll come. . . on one condition.”

I narrow my eyes playfully, pretending not to already know where this is going. “And what condition would that be?”

He leans in, his voice dropping low, a conspiratorial whisper. “You have to sleep next to me. The whole night. After we're done with all the gossiping and stories, you climb straight into my arms.”

I shake my head, laughing, warmth bubbling through me. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he says again, softer this time.

And he’s right. I nod, murmuring my declaration. “I do love it. And I love you.”

I really do. I love Adam. I love every bit of this man, from the serious to the childish. Everyday I wake up knowing it has the instant benefits of spending time with him, it's like a shot of dark coffee straight into my fucking veins.

“I love you too.”

I lean up for another kiss, drunk on this man. I'm going to fucking hold on to him forever. And I'll never let go.