The Snowball Effect ch. 22-24 (Patreon)

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---------------------------The Snowball Effect-----------------------------

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was irritatingly, disturbingly difficult to focus on work when Emma had a date with Regan in approximately… one hour. Maybe less? Maybe more? She’d be home in less than an hour, but she didn’t know what Regan’s timeline looked like for when they needed to leave, for wherever it was that they were going.

Emma didn’t really know, because Regan was being extremely tight-lipped about it. Which was, in turn, extremely un-Regan-like.

She paused packing up her bag for the day, turning her attention down to her phone.

Emma – 5:51PMYou really won’t tell me where we’re going tonight? You know that I don’t like surprises, right?

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 5:52PMI have known you for years, have lived with you for months, and have come to deeply care about you (neuroses and all)… so, yes, I know this

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 5:52PMBut I can’t tell you where we’re going tonight. It might be a surprise, but I SWEAR it’s a good one, you’re going to love it (fact), and it’s super casual, so you don’t need to worry about what to wear or the vibe or anything like that

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 5:52PMAnd it’s NOT karaoke, before you ask :)))

Emma couldn’t help the scoffing laugh, shaking her head and feeling stupidly endeared. Because she had been about to ask. Well, she’d been about to insist that they don’t do karaoke, but same difference, really.

“Ahhh, young love,” Brynn sighed from across their shared office space.

The grin immediately fell from Emma’s lips as she felt the heat rush to her cheeks. “Do you have nothing better to do than watch me text?”

Brynn stared back, winging up an eyebrow. “Obviously. We’re packing up, done for the day. What else do I have to do with my time?”

Emma couldn’t really refute that and, quite frankly, she couldn’t even summon up annoyance at feeling like she was under a microscope right now.

Mostly because her stomach was too preoccupied with this buzzing excitement and anxiety about her impending date.

Emma – 5:53PMWell, you said you wanted me to tell you when I’m leaving work for the day, and I am.

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 5:53PMPerfect timing! couldn’t have been better even if you knew our plans for the evening already

Regan Freaking Gallagher – 5:53PMI’m excited to see you

Oh, and there it was. That feeling swooping so low in her stomach, before erupting and moving somewhere up in her chest.

She held her breath for just a second, before she gave into the feeling.

Emma – 5:54PMI’m excited to see you, too.

After all, they were going on a date tonight. They were actually doing this, despite all of the logic that screamed at Emma that this was a bad idea. That this had the potential to be disastrous, for exactly the reasons she’d already told Regan.

But that logic hadn’t done Emma much good in the last few months, in terms of being able to keep her from developing these feelings for Regan, had it?

“You know I’ve been dying for the last two days, right? For you to tell me more about you and Regan?” Brynn asked, as Emma tucked her phone into her pocket and slung her bag over her shoulder to head out for the day.

As nervous as she truly was for tonight, she was also ready for it. She wanted to know what Regan had planned for them, what had gotten Regan so excited last night, as she’d proudly informed Emma, “I know exactly what we’re doing on our date. Tomorrow night, book it in.”

Tightening her grip on the strap of her bag, she rolled her lips tightly… before expelling a deep breath. “We’re going on a date tonight. That’s the update.”

As Brynn fell into step next to her, she reached out and slapped her hand at Emma’s arm. “Shut up! That’s – wow. That’s a way bigger update than I expected after you were so there’s no romantic drama the other night.”

“There have been a few developments,” she offered in vague explanation, because it really was the only explanation she had.

She definitely wasn’t going to tell Brynn about walking in on Regan masturbating and how she’d never heard someone sound so uninhibited, so fucking sexy, that it drove her to the brink of insanity. Drove her right to the brink of confessing every little feeling for Regan that she’d tried to push down and ignore this summer.

But how could she have held it in? How could she have, when Regan had lit up Emma’s every nerve ending with that kiss, and then talked about touching herself, and then begged – so earnestly, so genuinely – for Emma to bare her soul?

Especially when Regan had been utterly correct. She’d never asked Emma to share anything that Regan herself hadn’t already shared, freely and openly, just because she wanted Emma to know.

Yeah, she wasn’t going to discuss that with Brynn, either.

Apparently, she didn’t need to. They shared an elevator to the lobby and Brynn merely shook her head, a thoughtful expression on her face, before she finally turned to look up at Emma. “You know, you have really surprised me. When you started in May and you were all-business, no gossip, didn’t ever want to share about your personal life, I really thought I was in for a real bummer summer. But now, look at us. Somewhat friends, and you’re telling me about your date with your hot roommate.” She bumped her shoulder lightly into Emma’s. “Not half-bad.”

Emma found herself smiling even as she rolled her eyes. “Not half-bad,” she agreed.

As they walked out of the building, Brynn let out a low whistle. “I’m having some déjà vu.”

Confused, Emma looked at Brynn, then followed where Brynn’s gaze had landed.

She shouldn’t be surprised, and yet, she was. Because there Regan stood, about ten feet away from the entrance of their building, her arms crossed over her chest like she was trying to contain herself.

And most likely, Emma knew, she was. Regan’s smile was full-wattage as she spotted Emma, lighting up not only her face but just… the area around her, if that was even possible.

“Like I said, perfect timing,” Regan echoed her text as she walked closer, closing the distance between them. More like bounced closer, the frenetic energy coming off of her in waves. “Hi, Brynn.”

“Hello to you, too, Regan. Great to see you again,” Brynn commented, a sly grin on her face as Regan sidled up to Emma.

Much like when she’d picked Emma up from work all those weeks ago to go out to dinner, Regan settled right into Emma’s personal space. Regan’s arm pressed into hers, her hips angled toward Emma as well. Unlike the last time, Emma didn’t put any space between them. She didn’t feel the urge to, even with Brynn staring at them.

Being this close to Regan now felt… normal. She liked it, and she was in far too deep to deny that to either herself or Regan, now.

“I would love to stay and chat, but we have to head out,” Regan informed Brynn with an apologetic wince. “But next time we run into each other, I’d love to chat more.”

“Go, go,” Brynn shooed them. “Have fun on your date.”

Regan blinked after Brynn for a long second as Brynn started to walk away, before she looked up at Emma. Those dark eyes were wide, looking at Emma with surprise. “You told her?”

Feeling a twinge of embarrassment, Emma shrugged. “It’s not a huge deal. We’re… friends.”

Slowly, Regan tilted her head, as that smile – even more wattage than before – returned. “You and Brynn are friends! And you told her that we’re going on a date.”

“That’s what I said,” Emma murmured, but she couldn’t deny that Regan’s joy was infectious.

Regan slid her hand down, lacing their fingers together. It wasn’t the first time they’d held hands, not by a longshot. But it was the first time that they were doing it for them, and not because Regan was offering her comfort or because they were operating as fake-girlfriends.

They both stared down at their hands for a few seconds, and Emma had to believe that Regan was thinking the same thing she was. That this felt so… comfortable. Like they slotted together so perfectly, and they didn’t have to brush it off or focus on playing a part.

Doing everything she could to try to stay grounded – this might be a date, but it was also a test run, Emma reminded herself – she cleared her throat to gain Regan’s attention. “So… have you just been waiting out here or…?”

Regan laughed, leaning into Emma’s side. “Only for, like, ten minutes. I didn’t know when you were going to get out of the office today; if you were out at five, then I could have just met you at home. But once the clock hit five-thirty, I figured it was better to meet you instead.”

With that, Regan used their hands to gently tug Emma, leading her down the street.

Amused, Emma stared at the side of Regan’s face. “So, the mystery event tonight is on a schedule.”

“Yes, it’s scheduled,” Regan confirmed, wiggling her eyebrows at Emma. “But that’s all you’re getting from me about it.”

“Hmm,” Emma hummed in thought. “It’s kind of risky, given that I might not have gotten out of work until even later than this,” she pointed out.

Because it was true. Yes, it was rare that Allegra needed her to be in-office until seven or eight, but it had happened.

Regan nodded. “It was risky, but it’ll be worth it,” she promised. “Besides, it’s a Wednesday. You don’t usually work later than six on Wednesdays.”

Emma couldn’t refute that, or even pretend to be surprised that Regan had noticed and memorized that fact.

“You’re really hyping this date up,” she quietly mused, still studying Regan’s profile, as if she’d be able to read her mind.

“It’s because I’m pretttty confident about it,” Regan shot back, and the grin that darted over her face was sharp and knowing and, indeed, confident. Something about it kick-started that sparking heat inside of Emma, similar to that feeling from Monday night in their apartment.

They’d been very good, very appropriate, for the remainder of Monday night, as well as all day yesterday. Emma was sticking true to her word – she’d see how the date went, but she wasn’t going to indulge in anything else before this.

It didn’t mean she hadn’t wanted to, though.

They’d had dinner together last night, then had sat so close on the couch. No closer than they usually did, but… it was already different. The air around them felt so much heavier, and every single part of Emma was on high alert around Regan. Her body responded to every brush against Regan’s as if it were Monday night all over again. As if she’d just heard Regan moaning and swearing as she neared an orgasm, as if they’d just shared the most intense kiss of her life.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t incredibly relieved that Regan had announced their date would be so soon, because she wasn’t sure how they’d push through with any boundaries intact if they had to wait even longer.

“Oh, wait,” Regan paused, still holding Emma’s hand, as she held out her other hand and gestured at Emma’s bag. “Give me that.”

Emma’s free hand clutched at the strap of her bag, cautiously. “Why?”

“Because, you goof, I’m going to carry it for you. Because this is a date. Duh.”

Emma chuckled, shaking her head. “I can carry my own bag.”

“I’m aware of that. But…” Regan dug her teeth into her bottom lip, her eyes searching Emma’s. “I want to be chivalrous. I’ve never been chivalrous on a date, before.”

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, and she didn’t even register what she was doing until her hand brushed Regan’s as she handed over her bag.

“You don’t need to be chivalrous.” She cleared her throat, drawing herself back to reality. “You just need to be you.”

She could see how Regan swallowed, heavily, her gaze dipping to Emma’s lips. The desire in Regan’s expression was so clear, Emma felt short of breath.

Regan closed her eyes and tugged Emma’s hand as she started walking again. “You said that to me before. When you were taking me to meet your grandmother.”

“I remember.” And she did. She remembered all of these moments they’d shared in the last several weeks, in vivid color. “And it worked. Because she really, really likes you.”

Gram liked Regan so much, it was nearly overwhelming, and it was entirely, unbelievably appealing.

“No one’s ever said something like that to me. That you actually want me to be my whole self,” Regan admitted, softly.

“Well… people are stupid. It’s why I don’t like them, generally.” Even though Emma knew she’d once been one of those people, someone that didn’t know how to handle Regan’s all-encompassing personality. But she’d been wrong. And other people were, too.

“Oh, Emma,” Regan sighed, squeezing her hand a few times.

Emma felt that easy warmth flit through her. Regan didn’t need to elaborate; Emma understood what she was feeling.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive at their destination, and Regan used their interlocked hands to pull Emma to a stop.

“We’re here!” She announced, buzzing with clear excitement, as she gestured with her free hand to the doors in front of her.

The doors to By the Book, apparently, a bookstore only blocks away from Emma’s work. A bookstore that she hadn’t even known about, which was enough to throw her off. Mostly, though, she felt herself already start to melt a bit.

She’d told Regan all those weeks ago that the best place to bring her was a bookstore. How was she supposed to keep any semblance of a level head on this date when Regan remembered every word she ever said, and brought her to one of her favorite places on earth?

Regan gasped, drawing Emma’s attention. Concern welled up inside of her when she saw the undeniably upset look on her face, and she gripped Regan’s hand a little tighter. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“No! I’m not okay!” Regan pointed to the window next to the door, where there was a flyer advertisement Emma hadn’t yet noticed.

She, too, gasped when she saw Alexis Levine – book signing and Q&A on the ad. Only for the excitement that rushed through her to dampen quickly, when she saw at the bottom of the poster – Postponed.

Regan banged her knuckles against her forehead. “So stupid! I should have double-checked this morning that the event was still happening! I could have changed up the plans and done something else.”

Frowning, Emma quickly reached up and grabbed Regan’s wrist, stopping her from tapping her knuckles against her head again. “Hey, stop. It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” Regan insisted, turning to face Emma, wide-eyed. “I have one date to try and solidify in your mind that we can really be something, together,” she insisted, voice edging on desperate. “And – in typical Regan fashion – I didn’t double-check to make sure everything was as it should be. I got swept up in how excited I was and rushed into getting ready, and I should have–”

“Regan, it really is okay,” Emma interrupted, as everything inside of her demanded that she cut Regan off, here.

She reached up with her free hand, feeling compelled to brush her fingertips over Regan’s jaw. A touch she’d never allowed herself, before, but right now, she had no reason to stop herself. It felt so… easy. So natural.

“I know who I’m on a date with,” she gently informed Regan, a disbelieving smile pulling at her mouth. Because, yeah, it was hard to wrap her head around, but it was all true. “I know you. I know that when we go out to something you’ve planned with the best of intentions, there is a chance it might not go as planned.”

It was an aspect of being in Regan’s life even as her friend that Emma had already accepted.

A sheepish look slid over Regan’s face. “Yeah… I’m working on it.”

Emma shrugged, because at this point – it really didn’t matter. She liked Regan’s excitement and her energy and how willing she was to go along with whatever was thrown at her, and Emma couldn’t pick-and-choose which facets of Regan to accept. Somewhere along the line, she’d just… bought in. “I know who you are. And I’m still here on the date.”

“You are,” Regan echoed, cautiously. “And you do know me.”

“I’d say better than most.”

“Me, too,” Regan breathed in agreement. Still, she kept her eyes on Emma’s, cautious. “So – you’re not disappointed?”

“Disappointed that you brought me to explore a new bookstore on a date?” Pursing her lips in faux-thought, Emma shook her head. “I’d say it’s probably one of the best date ideas anyone’s ever had.”

That mega-watt smile bloomed over Regan’s face again, settling warmly through Emma’s chest. Regan turned her head, placing a kiss to the center of Emma’s palm that had been cupping her jaw in a move so fast, Emma hadn’t seen it coming.

Her palm tingled from it, as her breath hitched, and she closed her fist tightly as she dropped her hand back to her side. “Uh.” She cleared her throat. “Why don’t we go in?”

There was a flush on Regan’s cheeks, an undeniable energy that buzzed between them, as Regan reached out and opened the door. “After you.”

As Emma walked in, her eyes widened as she took in the interior. The spiral staircase in the middle of the shop was entirely unexpected, leading up to a second and third floor. The shelves weren’t all a uniform shape or size, with a variety of clearly new and used books mixed together. There was an organized chaos to it all, something so… beautiful, and Emma gaped.

“How did I not know this was here?” She asked, awed, as she stared up and around.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Regan asked, bouncing onto her tiptoes next to her, squeezing the hold she still had on Emma’s hand. “And there’s a café in the back, too, that people raved about in reviews. They have a chef that changes the menu every month. It functions as a coffee house during the day, and they serve book-themed mixed drinks at night. I figured we’d have dinner here.”

Emma’s heart skipped a beat as she focused her attention back to Regan, who was staring up at her with a hopeful smile.

It might technically only be the beginning of the date, but Emma got the distinct feeling that she was done for. She’d attempted to tell herself all day that she needed to be as grounded as possible tonight. That she needed to be mindful of any potential downfall, to be wary of jumping into this head-first.

“That sounds great,” she murmured, trying to stay as grounded as possible. “And, honestly, it’s totally fine that Alexis Levine’s Q&A was postponed. I can always keep an eye out and come back here to see her. But this way, you don’t have to sit through something you don’t really care about just for the sake of our date.”

Even though Emma would be thrilled to listen to one of her favorite authors – obviously – she found that was the truth. She wanted to do something with Regan, not something Regan was doing for her, that she wasn’t getting anything from herself.

Regan’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? I care. I’m disappointed, too.”

“About… Alexis?” Emma asked, confused.

“Yes!” Regan insisted, staring up at Emma as if Emma was the crazy one, here. “I read her Escape trilogy, and I really liked it.”

Surprise filtered through Emma, and she shook her head with it. “Uh-uh, wait. You told me – weeks ago – that you didn’t read very much.”

“Right, but that was before I followed your book reviews,” Regan informed her, as if the was stating something obvious. “When you gave me your account info, I read through everything, and you were so into her books that it made me want to read them. So, I did. And I really like them.”

Blood rushed in Emma’s ears, making it so all she could hear was her own heartbeat, which thudded harder in her chest. “You read her books because I liked them.”

“Yeah,” Regan confirmed, plainly. “Obviously.”

It was so clear that she had no idea what that information meant to Emma, what it was doing to her inside. How it made her stomach flutter with this feeling that Regan had increasingly inspired in her.

“And you did it before we were even a possibility,” Emma pushed, unable to stop herself.

Even if Regan had read Emma’s favorite books in the last two days, she would have been amazed and so, so pleased. But the fact that Regan had done it before, just when they were friends, it – it hit home on a deeper level, and Emma couldn’t place why.

“Yes,” Regan stated again, staring curiously up at Emma. “I wanted to know why you liked them so much, because you wrote your reviews about them so passionately. I wanted to understand, and… I mean, it was over a month ago; I wanted to understand you, better.”

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.

Emma stared back, her breath catching in her throat, and she had the strongest, neediest desire to push Regan back against the bookshelf behind them, and kiss her. Though they’d kissed twice, Emma had never been the one to initiate one, and right now – in this very public, very inappropriate moment – she wanted to so badly, she had to clench her free hand into a fist and dig her nails into her palm as a sharp reminder that this wasn’t the time or place.

Blowing out a deep breath, Emma got herself under control. Grounded, she reminded herself, even though she could already feel herself floating into Regan’s orbit.

***

She fell even deeper into that orbit over dinner.

Emma stared at Regan over her Gone-with-the-Gin cocktail, unable to take her eyes away from her.

Somehow, this was her life. Somehow, she was here, on a date with Regan Gallagher, and feeling more charmed than she’d ever felt in her life.

Regan glanced up from the menu she was perusing to catch Emma’s eye. Arching an eyebrow, she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I just…” She rolled her lips. “You read my favorite books.”

There was an awed note in her tone that she still couldn’t get rid of. And with it, a slow smile slid over Regan’s face. “I did. And it was a great choice. The only other books I’ve read in the last five years were ones Katherine wrote, but I actually liked that this was a different vibe.”

“Different genre,” Emma mused, too entertained by Regan referring to the genre as a vibe.

“Right,” Regan agreed.

Emma took a moment to reflect, before she sighed, wistfully. “I can’t believe Katherine Spencer is Sutton’s mom. When I found that out, after a few weeks of knowing Sutton, I almost peed myself.”

Regan nearly choked on her own drink – a Tequila Mockingbird – with spluttering laughter. “Really?”

“Yes!” Indignancy worked through her as she scoffed. “I mean, the Katherine Spencer is one of my favorite writers! And somehow, I happened into a friendship with her daughter? I’ve only met her a few times in the last couple of years, but I swear – each time, I’ve made a total fool of myself.”

Regan chuckled, dropping her chin into her hand as she stared at Emma over the table. “How so?”

“I mean, the last time I met her was in May, the week after I moved in. You were at work, and there was a knock on the door, so I answered it. And, there she stood.” Emma could remember it vividly, and her stomach still churned in embarrassment. “As is par for the freaking course for every time I’ve met this woman, I was awe-struck. When I was finally able to talk like a normal person, I stared at her like a total idiot and told her that Sutton wasn’t home.”

Emma groaned softly at herself. “And she stared at me with, like, the sweetest smile – like I was a moron, but she didn’t want me to feel badly about myself or something – and said I know that my daughter is in Rome; I’m looking for Regan. Like, obviously, she knew her daughter was in fucking Rome.”

Regan’s guffaw of laughter forced a chuckle from Emma, even as she could feel herself blush.

When she looked back at Regan, she was taken aback by the soft, sweet look she wore. “Ahh, and the she came and saw me at Topped Off; I remember.”

“And I think you went out to dinner with her.” Emma’s detailed recollection of Regan’s comings-and-goings from months ago wasn’t lost on her.

“I did,” Regan confirmed. “I usually do when she’s in town.”

“Even if Sutton isn’t,” Emma slowly muttered, trying to put together the picture being displayed in front of her.

Regan nodded, easily. “Oh, yeah. I mean…” She rolled her lips, that smile on her lips fading just a bit. “I wasn’t very close to my own parents, growing up. Like I told you. But I latched onto Katherine like a second mom, and I think she knew that I didn’t really fit at my house, because she treated me like her sixth kid. Family vacations, holidays, birthdays – any time I could get away from my house, I would. And my dad worked for Sutton’s dad and really respected him, so, they let me go to the Spencers a lot. I think…” Regan rolled her lips, her eyebrows knitting together in thought.

“I think they liked it, that way. They trusted I was in good hands with Katherine and Jack, and they didn’t have to deal with me, so it was a win-win. At least, that’s how it always felt.” Regan’s tone turned pensive and heavy, as she shrugged. “Anyway, I think I spent literally at least fifty percent of my adolescence sharing Sutton’s bedroom.”

Much like the first time Regan had shared information about her past and her family with Emma, she found herself utterly riveted. It was the same feeling she had when she was reading a great book – she hated the idea of putting it down the same way she hated the idea of Regan not sharing every little detail with her.

Also much like that time, Emma felt this unfamiliar but undeniable anger well up at the idea of Regan’s parents.

She didn’t quite know what to do with that, honestly. She’d never felt so – so defensive over someone else, before.

Emma didn’t actually need to process it right now, though, as Regan shrugged and pushed past it. “But, yeah. Katherine usually makes a point to check in with me when she’s in town. She texts or calls me every few weeks, too. And she usually does like to swing by and see the apartment,” Regan gestured at Emma, recalling her interaction with Katherine. “Which makes sense, since she pays a third of the rent.”

Surprised and confused, Emma reeled back. “What?”

Regan slowly tilted her head at Emma, also looking confused. “You didn’t know?”

“Like… she pays a third of the rent even now? When Sutton’s not there?” Emma pressed, trying to wrap her mind around the possibility.

She’d assumed that Sutton’s parents paid her share of the rent, given what a nice apartment it was, in a good neighborhood, and Sutton certainly didn’t make enough to pay half of the rent from what she took home as a teaching assistant; Emma would know. But…

“Yeah,” Regan confirmed, taking a sip of her drink. “When I moved to the city – freshly into the summer as a college dropout – I went out and got into an apartment. Kind of like your last setup; I found three randos online that were looking for a fourth person to rent out a bed. It was a total shithole. I think someone had possibly been murdered there? Not to mention the cockroaches.” She shuddered.

Emma’s attention snapped right back into riveted mode, as soon as the conversation turned back to Regan. That alone told her everything she really needed to know. And, of course, Regan shuddered in disgust at the cockroaches rather than the murder scene.

“I’d only been there for, like, a day when Sutton came over to check it out. She was… less than impressed.” Regan’s lips curled into a cute smile as she laughed. “Actually, the exact thing she said was, no. Then she packed up the only bag I’d unpacked and took me back to her dorm room. She had a single, and was staying here over the summer,” she explained, “Taking a bonus lit. course for fun, the nerd.”

“Sutton got on the phone with her parents and sent them the pictures of the apartment. We worked out a deal – I would pay a third of the rent, and Sutton’s parents would pay the rest. When Sutton graduated undergrad, she took over a third, too. I could afford my half, after I got my promotion. And I offered,” Regan was quick to inform her, as if still wanting to make sure Emma thought the best of her, clearly still thinking about how Emma had expressed her irritation at Regan’s privileged upbringing. “But Katherine said she’d prefer it if I take some time to bulk up my savings. When Sutton comes back from Rome, the lease is going to be re-evaluated.”

“I always assumed you had some sort of trust fund or whatever to fall back on,” Emma’s voice was quiet as she tried to wrap her mind around all of the new information she was being presented with.

A sharp smile flashed over Regan’s face. “Well, I did, technically. You weren’t wrong about what you said a couple months ago; I did grow up super lucky because money wasn’t an issue. And both my sister and I had trusts set up for us from our parents. But as soon as I dropped out of college, my parents were very clear that I wouldn’t ever be getting a penny of it.”

Emma slumped back against her chair, heavily. Yes, Regan had grown up with wealth and privilege, but she didn’t actually have it, now. And, if Emma was honest with herself, that would have changed the way she’d seen Regan, a lot sooner.

As soon as the thought hit her, Emma gasped and sat at attention. “I let you pay my hospital bill!”

Oh, she didn’t like this feeling that curled through her and sat like a stone in her stomach, not at all.

Regan’s confusion was obvious, as was her shame. “I mean, paying your hospital bill was the right thing to do, since I sent you there.”

Emma was already shaking her head, though, and she reached up, rubbing at her temples. “Regardless, I only agreed to let you do it because I thought you had, like, family money at your disposal. Even with my insurance, it was over a thousand dollars!”

Still, Regan stared across from her, undeterred. “And I was happy to do it; I owed you that.”

“No, you didn’t. I want to pay you back.”

“I won’t take it,” Regan immediately returned, looking affronted. “Emma, I almost killed you. Literally. Paying the hospital bill was the least I could do. And I don’t want to argue about it, especially on our date,” she insisted, a steely tone under her typically relaxed demeanor. “It’s been months; the statute of limitations has run out.”

Emma felt it, again. That feeling of sliding deeper and deeper into this. “You, Regan Gallagher, have a lot of character.” She almost wished she’d seen it sooner, but… honestly, she probably would have fallen for Regan a lot sooner, too, and she had no idea how that would have gone.

The look on Regan’s face was pure radiance, as she hummed happily. “Why, thank you. Now, let’s pick something for dinner – afterwards, we’re going to do something I’m super excited about: pick out each other’s next read.”

Oh, yeah. It really was all over for her.

***

“All I’m saying is that vanilla gets a really bad reputation!” Regan ardently insisted, as they walked into the elevator of their building several hours later.

Emma shook her head, utterly amused. “I don’t have strong feelings on it either way; I’m mostly just invested because you are so adamant.”

Regan’s heartfelt defense of vanilla ice cream had started two blocks over, when they’d stopped at the gourmet ice cream shop on the way home from the bookstore. Emma had gotten a mocha chocolate chip – a choice she stood by, wholeheartedly – and after she’d ordered, Regan had stepped up and gotten… vanilla.

Emma had given her a baffled stare, because out of any flavor she could imagine anyone but especially Regan choosing, vanilla hadn’t been on the list of possibilities.

Admittedly, Emma had gotten a little lost in her argument, as she’d watched Regan lick her vanilla ice cream for the last few blocks. She’d gotten her own in a cup, a choice she’d been making since childhood. And she was grateful for her decision as they’d walked, because her mocha chip had melted a bit from neglect, as Emma had gotten far too easily distracted.

“It’s a classic, it goes with everything,” Regan stated, firmly. “And I don’t like vanilla slander, that’s all.”

Emma hit the button for their floor, before stepping back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Regan. “I’ve never heard someone be so intent about vanilla ice cream, but if anyone was going to do it, I’m not surprised it’s you.”

“Thank you,” Regan accepted as if Emma’s simple statement had been an outright compliment.

Even as her lips ticked into a warm smile at the response, Emma took a deep, bracing breath as the doors opened to their floor and they stepped out into the hallway.

“So…” Regan started, glancing down the hall at their door. “I think date etiquette states that the date is coming to an end, as we’re coming to your front door.”

“Your front door, too,” Emma reminded her, amused.

Regan waved her off. “Yeah, sure, but this was my date that I planned for you. As your date, I’m walking you to your apartment door for the end of the night to close out our date, and then I’ll become your roommate again.”

“Ah, I didn’t realize that you haven’t been my roommate all along.”

“Easy mistake to make,” Regan murmured with a quiet chuckle. A chuckle that sounded riddled with nerves, which were reflected in Regan’s face as she turned to face Emma in the hallway. Her hands were locked together in front of her, Emma’s work bag still slung over her shoulder as she’d insisted that she carry it home, as well. The bag also now contained the three books Regan had bought for Emma at the store, and the one Emma had picked out and bought for Regan.

“So, how was it?” Regan asked, her voice soft, as her gaze searched Emma’s. “On a scale of one to ten. One being that we need to forget this ever happened and you’re back to not even liking me as a friend, four being that you were disappointed with the evening and don’t see us working out romantically, but you still want to be platonic roommate-friends, seven being that you had a good time but you think there’s room for improvement and you see possible pitfalls in our romantic future, and ten being that you had a great time and you’d love to do this again with me, because you see that we have something real between us.”

An incredulous laugh bubbled up her throat. “You know, that’s quite a scale. I’ve never heard someone ask me to rank something like that, before.”

Regan shrugged, anxiety and hope clearly written on her face as those dark eyes glinted up at Emma. “Well, I’m an individual. Someone that’s an acquired taste, that’s for sure.”

Emma stared intently at Regan, the smile on her lips fading slightly. “You are,” she agreed in a murmur.

Their evening played on a loop in a blur in her mind, and what stood out the most was how Regan had taken such care to think about Emma every step of the way.

“I haven’t really been on a date in over two years,” Emma found herself admitting. “Which you know, since you know I haven’t been with anyone since Felicity.” It didn’t make her feel any less embarrassed about it in a way she typically wasn’t.

But Emma hadn’t felt like this – desired and wanted, like she was more than a granddaughter and a friend and someone that needed to put her head down and bust her ass to get to the next step in her life – in the time since Felicity.

“And even then… well, the final months of my relationship with Felicity hadn’t been exactly romance-central.” Emma rolled her lips, wondering how much she wanted to confess. Normally, she wouldn’t want to say any of this to anyone.

But this was Regan, and Emma felt so utterly comfortable with her, now. Comfortable enough that she wanted to tell her everything about her past relationship.

“Nothing in my relationship with Felicity was romance-central, actually. And part of that was on me,” she admitted, accepting her role in it with a shrug. “I was caught up in her, sure, but she was very pragmatic, and didn’t think very highly of people getting caught up in anything frivolous, which included romance. She referred to it as performative, and I really bought into that.”

Emma had started dating Felicity when she’d barely been twenty, Felicity had been a few years older and more experienced, and Emma had accepted so much of what Felicity said as truth. It had been a natural leap for Emma, too, because she’d seen all of Kimberly’s relationships throughout her youth crash and burn on highs of infatuation, and she’d been so soured on the idea of being all caught up in another person. She’d liked what she’d perceived as Felicity’s realism.

Regan’s eyes searched hers, and Emma could see how actively Regan listened to her. Like she soaked in every statement Emma made, and it made those butterflies Emma had been trying to catch in an internal net all night trying to keep in check start to flutter again.

“So… did you feel like tonight was performative?” Regan slowly asked, nerves riddled through her tone.

“No,” Emma breathed back, and the confession felt like it really was the final nail in the coffin. The coffin that held all of Emma’s carefully-held logic and judgments and confliction about the what-ifs, and everything that could go wrong, here. “I feel like you listen to me, and care about my feelings and my thoughts. I feel like you put my interests first tonight, because you wanted to, and you wanted me to have a good time. But I felt like you had a good time, too.”

Regan’s answering nod was quick and eager.

“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.”

She could hear Regan’s breath hitch in her throat, and Emma’s pulse quickened. She’d never imagined herself being able to say things like this without an ounce of self-consciousness, and maybe if she was saying it to anyone other than Regan, it would still be the case.

Emma licked her lips, dipping her gaze to Regan’s mouth.

Her throat was dry and her heart skipped a beat, and she was going to kiss Regan. She was going to be the one to kiss Regan this time, and there was no doubt about it.

“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 her head up on a trembling sigh, her hot breath washing over Emma’s neck and jaw, making her shiver.

“But you are – surprisingly but unquestionably – my taste,” she finished, ducking her head to capture Regan’s lips with hers.

Regan sighed, immediately into her mouth, and she swallowed the sound, tucking it into the back of her mind to a place she didn’t think she’d ever forget.

She felt Regan’s hands slide up her arms, her touch warm through Emma’s long-sleeved shirt, and it was the only time all night that she wished she’d been able to change out of her work clothes before the date. Because if she’d work a short-sleeved shirt, she’d be able to feel Regan’s touch on her bare skin, and she craved it. She wanted that touch so, so badly.

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.”

Now that she’d laid everything on the line, that she’d confessed the full extent of her feelings, that she’d stopped denying herself – denying either of them – of this, she felt ravenous for more.

She hadn’t been with someone else in so long, hadn’t been touched or been able to touch for years, and this intense neediness for Regan, specifically, far outweighed anything she’d ever experienced. It made everything feel so much more, and she gripped Regan’s hips tightly, guiding them a few steps until Regan’s back hit the wall.

Regan moaned – one of those low, throaty sounds that Emma had been convinced belonged to someone else the other night – and the vibration of it against Emma’s lips was intoxicating. The sound went right to Emma’s clit, making her pulse with need.

She felt Regan’s hand claw into her hair, taking a tight fistful of it, and the bite – not too hard, but enough that Emma could feel her – only added to her arousal.

“It’s why I got it,” Regan’s voice was so hoarse, so quiet, it barely registered over the way Emma’s pulse pounded in her ears. “The vanilla. Mocha chip – anything coffee-flavored – is my favorite, too, but when you ordered it, I thought, mm,” Regan sighed out a delicious groan, before she flicked out her tongue to slide over Emma’s lips.

The sensation of it made Emma’s knees quake, and she had to slap one of her hands onto the wall next to Regan’s head to ensure she remained standing.

“I thought that I should get vanilla, because I knew they’d taste so good together, if this happened,” Regan finished, before she used the hand in Emma’s hair to pull Emma back in, decimating the scant centimeters she’d put between them.

God, Emma was vibrating with how strong this molten desire filled her veins. She slid her hand down slowly, relishing in the feeling of Regan’s leanly muscled thigh under her fingers. Oxygen escaped her completely as her fingertips reached Regan’s bare skin at the bottom of her cutoffs.

Regan keened, gripping Emma’s shoulder so hard as she rolled her hips into Emma’s.

Swearing into Regan’s mouth, she rolled her hips back, harder, pinning Regan against the wall.

“Emma,” Regan panted against her mouth, her lips brushing tantalizingly over Emma’s, and something about it – about the way Regan’s mouth felt on hers was so… so… insanity-inducing.

She’d thought about this mouth so much over the last few years. Back when she’d first had that fantasy crush on Regan, before she’d even known her. Even throughout their tumultuous relationship, when Emma hadn’t let herself like Regan, she’d gotten so distracted by these full lips. The last several weeks – especially since she’d felt them on her own – had been torture.

And she didn’t know how much self-control she could hold onto right now, she really didn’t.

That fact made Emma feel crazy, mindless with this desire. Now that there was nothing holding her back, now that the final vestiges of Emma’s hesitation were depleted, she just wanted.

It was that thought that had her breaking the kiss.

She gripped Regan’s thigh tightly, stroking her thigh over the soft skin there even as she drew back a few inches, forcing herself to put some distance between them.

“I don’t want to… to rush into anything,” she managed out a whisper, through her panting breaths. “But it was a twelve,” she breathed against Regan, tilting her head down and pressing their foreheads together. It took everything inside of her not to kiss Regan again, but she craved this closeness so deeply.

The hand Regan had gripped her hair with gentled and released, as she sifted her fingers through Emma’s hair, and Emma could feel her hand shaking slightly. “Huh?” She hummed.

With every ounce of strength Emma possessed, she took a deep breath and lifted her head away. Regan’s cheeks were flushed, her lips so pink and swollen, and she still had her eyes closed. Emma’s heart skipped a beat, entirely unrelated to this raging heat inside of her, and all to do with how stupidly beautiful Regan was.

“On your scale,” Emma murmured, finally feeling steady enough on her feet to take her hand off of the wall so she could stroke Regan’s hair behind her ear. These dark waves she’d looked at but never touched were so, so soft under her fingertips. “The date was a twelve.”

Regan blinked her eyes open, and… yeah. There were those tawny flecks around her irises in eyes so dark they were nearly black with desire. “Wow. I outdid myself so well, I didn’t even know it was possible,” she joked, quietly.

Emma nodded, entirely seriously. “Not surprising.”

Regan took a deep, steadying breath and tilted her head back against the wall. “I know I need to walk you to the door and finish our date, but I also really don’t want to. Because I totally respect that you don’t want to rush into anything, but I don’t want it to be over.”

Emma very much understood the sentiment. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Clemmons is probably going to peek out into the hallway to snap at loiterers any minute now.”

The laugh that Regan let out was loud and full-bodied, and – in a feeling Emma had become increasingly familiar with – made her feel proud for causing it. “You’re right.”

Even though Emma knew it needed to happen, Regan sliding her hands away from Emma and dropping them heavily to her sides made her feel absurdly cold. Reluctantly, she removed her hands from Regan, as well, even though she knew that she’d still feel the phantom sensation of Regan’s thigh under her hand for the rest of the night.

They slowly meandered the rest of the way to their door, lingering outside as Emma took her keys out of her pocket. “So, uh, I’d invite you inside,” she started, clearing her throat as she sent Regan a conspiratorial smile. “But I have a roommate who recently told me that if I brought home a prospective new partner, she’d rip their hair out. You have really beautiful hair, though, and I’d hate to see anything happen to it.”

Regan smiled, entirely unashamed. “I appreciate it. She sounds a little unhinged, though; you should be careful.”

Emma shrugged. “Ehhh, you know, I’ve really come around to her.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Regan was still vibrating with energy an hour later, as she lay on her back in bed.

Yes, it was nearing midnight. Yes, she’d had an extremely busy day; she’d worked an early morning shift, then had to cover half of Liz’s shift she’d called out from, before coming home to prepare for her date. Then, had gone on the best fucking date of her entire life.

She couldn’t believe it had gone so well, especially when she’d been a total idiot and hadn’t double-checked the details for Alexis Levine’s Q&A.

But… it had.

Regan was an acquired taste, but she was Emma’s taste. And fuck, if that didn’t both make Regan’s heart skip a beat with sheer delight at the same time that it made her throb between her legs. What a feeling.

And then the kiss.

God, Regan had never been kissed like that, before. Like Emma had wanted to devour her whole, and Regan had felt the very same.

She totally understood and respected Emma’s comment about not wanting to rush things, which was why she’d ended the date at their front door. She’d very deliberately not made any direct contact with Emma once they crossed the threshold into their apartment.

Because Regan had never in her life desired someone the way she did Emma, and right now, that desire felt like it was alive. Like a living, breathing need that had its own drive inside of her.

She knew without a single doubt that if she so much as accidentally brushed against Emma as they’d walked into their apartment after the official end of their date, that the tenuous hold she had on her self-control would snap.

Emma seemed to have felt the same, as she’d taken a deep breath and wished Regan a good night, and said, “It’s probably… wise, if we go our separate ways for the evening.”

“Probably,” Regan had, unfortunately, agreed.

Admittedly, it was after ten o’clock and it was a worknight for Emma, so it made sense.

Emma telling Regan, after awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, that she was going to hop in the shower before bed was not helping Regan’s state of affairs.

She’d resolutely made herself stay in her bedroom to avoid any temptation after that. Because she’d seen Emma topless multiple times, now, and if it drove Regan to the brink of wanting distraction before, she could only imagine what it would do to her, now.

And now, she very definitively knew that she was hungry to see more. Yes, Emma wore very sexy lingerie that showcased her ample chest, and Regan appreciated that. Very much. But she was desperate to see more. To see all of Emma.

And that desperation was what kept Regan awake right now.

She’d hoped that the fever born from their hallway make-out would fade, but it wasn’t. At all.

Laying on her back on top of her comforter, stripped down to the comfy shorts and old t-shirt she planned to sleep in, Regan’s eyes were wide open, staring up at her ceiling. She kept her hands tightly interlocked over her lower stomach.

“You will not touch yourself,” she sternly said, for the fifth time.

Honestly, Regan had no idea how else she was going to be able to relax enough to fall asleep if she didn’t get any sort of relief. Her clit was pulsing and she was so wet, she could feel it, and if this were any other situation, Regan would have already had her vibrator out and made herself come at least once.

She supposed this was all wrapped up in the quandary Emma had about them going out in the first place. Fine, so Emma likely wasn’t thinking about the sexual dynamics post-date, but Regan didn’t know what was appropriate here.

Was it disrespectful or inappropriate or whatever, to work herself into a toe-curling orgasm with Emma, who was just across the hall, as the star of her sexual thoughts?

Sure, yes, Emma had been starring in Regan’s fantasies for weeks now, but… it was different. Those were all just – literal fantasy. It was like reading a spicy story or something. It didn’t feel like the same thing to think about Emma while touching herself after going on a literal date together, while Emma was, like, ten feet away.

Plus, after Monday, Regan was trying to be a bit more… conscientious.

“Conscientiousness sucks,” she whined to herself, clenching her thighs tightly together, and then immediately regretting it.

The pressure gave her zero relief and – in fact – made the throbbing between her legs feel even more pronounced. She hadn’t even known that was possible!

She swore she could still feel Emma’s fingers on her bare thigh. Regan knew her shorts were the definition of short-shorts, and Emma’s searing touch had made a home just under the hem. Inches away from where she was so desperately needing to be touched, to be filled.

No, she’d never do something like beg Emma to have fucked her in the hallway outside of their apartment – Emma would never go for it – but if Regan closed her eyes and let her mind drift the tiniest bit… there it was. The vision playing out as if that had happened.

Regan rolling her hips desperately against Emma’s thick, perfect thigh and Emma pushing back into her, just as she’d done tonight. Only, it didn’t end there, in her mind’s eye. It –

Regan’s eyes snapped open as she swore she heard… something.

The apartment had been so quiet, you could hear a pin drop for twenty minutes, since she’d heard Emma go into her room for the night. Regan had been tempted to put on music or a movie; anything to help drown out her thoughts. She hadn’t, because she apparently loved pain, and didn’t totally want to get rid of these thoughts.

She felt like a fucking bloodhound that had picked up a scent on a trail, holding her breath and tensing every muscle as she waited to see if she’d hear the sound again.

There! There it was again!

The faintest… moan? Was that a fucking moan?

Regan had – unfortunately – been the unwilling audio-spectator of the neighbor to her left having relations, and that quiet, almost imperceptible sound was not what it sounded like.

Her heart started to pound in her chest at the reality she was being presented with.

Those quiet sounds had to be coming from Emma’s room. From Emma.

“God. Oh, god. Fuck,” she swore, the heat she’d barely been able to slow to a simmer inside of her turning back to a boil in about two seconds.

Was Emma over there… ten feet away… touching herself, thinking about Regan?

Unable to help herself, she hastily grabbed at her phone where it rested on the bedside table. Her hands shook as she texted.

Regan – 11:57PMAre you awake???

She didn’t breathe, didn’t inhale or exhale a single fucking time, as she waited…

Emma looked at her message within seconds, but didn’t answer for almost a minute.

Emma – 11:58PMYes

Yes? That was all Emma was going to say to her right now?!

Deliberately crossing her legs tightly, giving into her need, Regan texted back.

Regan – 11:58PMAnd… what are you doing??

Swallowing thickly, she watched as those three little telling bubbles appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Disappeared. Appeared…

“Jesus christ,” she moaned softly, because that hesitation in Emma’s answer was all the confirmation Regan needed.

She knew Emma, now. Knew her very well. If Emma had been doing something innocent over in her room like reading a book or something, she would have simply said it.

Regan wasted no time, not a single second.

She rolled onto her stomach, sliding her hand down to wedge it under herself. Pressing her hand tightly between her body and the bed, angling her hips up so she could – “Yesss,” she breathed out, as she slid her fingers down into her shorts, brushing over her clit.

She used the lightest of touches, because she knew she’d come so, so quickly. Her very active mind had been operating film reels for an hour, working on the heady sensations that had flooded her system since that kiss.

When her phone vibrated in her hand and signaled a text, she whipped her head up in shock. She hadn’t actually expected Emma to answer!

Emma – 12:00AMI’m not doing anything that I’m not allowed to do to and with myself, in my own apartment, in my own room, after a very intense kiss with a very attractive woman

Regan’s breathing labored already, as she dropped her head into her pillow, and rolled her hips down into her hand. God. God!

She’d known Emma had been touching herself – probably – but the confirmation… it made Regan’s clit pulse against the very light touch from Regan’s fingertips.

Regan – 12:01AMWhat are you thinking about?

Texting with her non-dominant hand while balancing her phone against her mattress wasn’t Regan’s best skill, but she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity for the fucking world.

Arching her hips up, she slid her hand further down, avoiding touching her clit directly. She was so, so sensitive and she couldn’t let this be over so soon. A breathless cry caught in her throat as she pressed her fingertips against her opening, working her hips down against herself.

Emma – 12:02AMObviously, I’m thinking about that woman

Regan – 12:03AMMe. You’re thinking about me. Say it

Please

She dug her teeth into her bottom lip, sharply, waiting for an answer. Trying desperately to hold herself back from actually fucking herself – fingers deep inside, rubbing her clit, working to that orgasm that she knew would be within reach in mere moments – until she knew.

Emma – 12:03AMI’m thinking about you

Regan released her breath, and with it, an aching moan from the back of her throat. She hadn’t even known, really, that the moan would escape, but without holding herself back… well, she couldn’t say she was surprised. Nor could she say she cared.

They were doing this.

Without needing to restrain herself anymore, Regan slid two of her fingers further inside, feeling the slight stretch, and she groaned with it. The same kind of sounds she let out on Monday night, when she hadn’t thought Emma was home.

Emma – 12:04AMWhat are YOU doing over there???

Already feeling herself start to pant, her hips canting down against her hand to ride her fingers, Regan attempted to type back. Only for her phone to fumble and fall face-down against her mattress, and, “Fuck it.”

She flipped her phone over and hit the call icon, relieved that she didn’t have to worry about maintaining enough sanity to text, anymore.

She knew she wasn’t going to have the wherewithal to continue that soon, anyway.

It rang three times – far too many times, really, when Regan knew for a fact Emma was holding her phone in her hand – before Emma answered, “Why are you calling me?”

Emma’s own breathing was labored, though it sounded like she was trying to get it under control for reasons Regan couldn’t understand. Not when she was on the brink of completely giving herself into the flames dancing inside of her.

“Because – ah,” her breath hitched, and she whimpered as her fingers brushed against one of the sensitive places inside of her. Her entire body shuddered with it, and she could hear how broken her own words were, as she pushed them out. “Because you don’t moan as loudly as I do, and I want to hear you.”

There was a beat of silence and Regan wondered if she’d gone too far. Was the call pushing things? Emma had said she didn’t want to rush –

Emma let out a deep, rasping groan. “Fuck, Regan. I – you’re killing me.”

“You started it,” she shot back, pressing her hot cheek against her sheet as she rolled her hips down even harder, really starting to fuck herself, now. “I was being good tonight; I wasn’t doing this. But then I could hear you, and I only have so much self-control.”

She could hear Emma’s breath hitch. “I didn’t mean for you to hear me; that’s never happened before. I just – I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted in a whisper.

“Me, neither,” Regan eagerly offered, shamelessly. “All I could think about was you.”

“I’m… I’ve never done this on the phone,” Emma admitted, her voice sounding so deliciously guttural. “I’ve barely done it in text, but at least then I can think clearly about what I’m going to say.”

“Don’t think,” Regan urged, feeling mindless herself. She slid her fingers as deep inside as she could, then held them there and grinded her hips down.

The sound that tore itself from her throat almost hurt, but it felt so… fucking… good.

“Fuck,” Emma’s answering moan only intensified this spiraling heat inside of her.

“If this is too much or too quick, then hang up. I won’t be offended,” Regan grit out, before she had to cut herself off for several long moments. She stilled her hips, swallowing thickly to try to maintain any possibility of a clear thought for Emma’s boundaries. “I don’t want to push you. I just – I want you, so badly. I’ve wanted you since that night in the bookstore. Maybe – probably – before. Every time I’ve touched myself since then, I’ve thought about you. About your body. About what you’d feel like on top of me. About how you’d taste. I’ve never tasted another woman, but–”

“Regan,” Emma’s voice was hoarse and reedy. “I – you…”

“Yeah, me. Even when I’ve tried not to think about you, you’ve kept popping up in my thoughts every time I touch myself. I can’t help it, Emma. It’s like a dirty obsession, and I can’t stop,” she confessed, wanting to confess even more.

Wanting to confess the detailed thoughts she’d gotten off to for weeks. Wanting to hear how Emma would respond to it, wanting to know how feasible they were.

“Hang up.” She turned her head and pushed her entire face into her mattress, hard. Clenching her teeth as she tried to keep her hand and her hips as still as possible, even as she was shaking from the effort of holding back. “I’m seriously begging you, if this is a boundary for you, you have to hang up. Because I can’t.”

“I can’t hang up, either,” Emma admitted, her tone was so gravelly, it made Regan’s eyes squeeze closed. Like, if she kept her eyes closed and heard Emma’s voice sound like that right next to her ear, she could pretend Emma was here in her bed, instead of across the hallway. “I can’t believe I’m doing this with you, but I don’t want to stop. I was–”

Emma cut herself off on a hissed out breath, and Regan couldn’t stop herself from slowly starting a new rhythm. Rolling her hips down against her hand, so slowly. Trying to make this last as long as she possibly could.

“You were what?” There was a tone in her own voice she’d never heard. Something that was a cross between demanding and begging, and that was exactly what she felt right now, when it came to Emma. She wanted to demand Emma tell her everything, to lay herself as open for Regan as Regan would do for her, and she also had no problem begging for it.

“I was so close, when you texted me. I didn’t – mm, I didn’t realize you could hear me. I’m… god,” Emma broke off on a series of panting breaths. “I’m not usually a loud person; I don’t usually make a lot of noise during… and I didn’t think – I – I didn’t think.”

Regan whined, nodding wordlessly as she worked a third finger inside of herself, needing more. The fact that Emma wasn’t vocal during sex, but she was tonight while thinking about Regan… yeah, that only served to drive Regan even closer to the imminent, orgasmic edge. She throbbed, clenching so tightly around her own fingers.

“I’ve never felt like this,” Emma confessed, a whimper escaping her before she bit it off.

“What are you thinking about?” Regan breathlessly demanded. She just – she needed to know. She needed desperately to know.

“I’m thinking about your mouth on me. I – Regan, I think about your mouth all of the time; you have no idea.” Emma’s breathing was so ragged, and Regan knew Emma was so far gone. Because she couldn’t imagine Emma ever saying that to her if she had all of her wits about her, and Regan’s entire body felt like it was on fire from the inside out.

She licked her lips as if she could taste Emma on them, now, and they tingled. “I’d love that,” she breathed back, groaning with it. “I love the idea of your thighs around my head, being able to slide my hands up them, gripping and touching everywhere that I want, and–”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat, a ragged, high-pitched gasp ringing in Regan’s ear. Followed by the quietest, trembling whimpers, and… Emma just came.

Emma came, for her. Emma came, thinking about Regan’s mouth, listening to Regan talk, and – and…

Regan squeezed her eyes tightly closed, sliding her dripping wet fingers from deep inside of herself to rub desperately at her clit. She couldn’t wait anymore. Physically, literally, she could not wait. If she denied herself this orgasm for any longer, she felt like she would die from it.

“I’m on my stomach,” she hurriedly told Emma, wondering if her words were even coherent between the other cries she knew she was emitting. “Normally – fu-fuck – normally, I’d use a vibrator, but… but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be able to imagine you were on top of me, and that it was y-your hand–”

She couldn’t manage the rest of her sentence; she had no idea what else she’d been going to say. How was she supposed to know, when she couldn’t think of anything, anymore? She could only think of the orgasm that rolled over her in waves, how her toes curled so tightly, and how best to rub her clit so she could draw out every last bit of pleasure.

In her head, that was exactly what she thought of, as she worked the orgasm from her body. She imagined Emma’s voice not on the phone, but live. In her ear, her warm breath on Regan’s cheek. She imagined it wasn’t her fingers working over her aching clit, but Emma’s.

Finally, when she had nothing left to give, Regan groaned – long and low – and fell, limply, to her bed. Completely wrung out, she collapsed, trying to catch her breath.

When she finally could, she lifted her hips up a few inches and whimpered as she slid her hand out from her shorts, before dropping her arm onto her bed.

She swallowed, wishing she’d had the foresight to get herself a glass of water. Then again, how could she have known this was going to happen?!

Blinking her eyes open, she glanced at her phone to see if their call was still connected.

And that hazy, post-orgasm pleasure dissipated immediately when she saw that the screen was black.

The liquid feeling that had made Regan’s limbs feel pleasantly heavy and tired dissipated, replaced with a self-conscious gnawing concern. Quickly, she reached up and tapped at her screen, hoping that her phone was just being weird or something.

But… no.

The call was disconnected. That kind of – no, it really – hurt, and Regan’s throat felt strangely tight. What had she done wrong? What –

The quiet knock on her door had her quickly pushing herself up, staring for several beats at it. Obviously, it was Emma, but Regan was feeling, uncharacteristically, unsure of herself right about now.

“I’m really close to just opening the door,” Emma’s voice was slightly muffled from. “But I don’t know if you’re wearing clothes or not, and I think – for sanity’s sake – that clothing should be on, right now. Since we, obviously, don’t have great self-control.”

Still confused, but slightly less tangled up in knots, Regan glanced down at herself as if needing to double-check before she answered, “I’m wearing clothing.”

Her door opened, then, and Emma stood in the doorway. She had a glass of water in her hand, and she had those stupidly sexy glasses on her face, as she hesitated after taking a single step.

“I, um, thought you might want this,” she murmured, holding up the water. “Based on Monday… and the cries and moans you just let out, now.”

If Regan were a betting woman, she’d bet her life that Emma’s cheeks were blushing. She couldn’t really tell, given that the only light filtering in came from the moonlight filtering in from her window, and the nightlight in the hallway behind Emma.

“You hung up the phone.” She’d meant to sound either joking or accusatory – unsure which – but mostly, she could hear her own insecurity filter through.

Emma shifted from foot to foot, coughing slightly, before she answered, “I listened, first. To every single sound you made.” There was that breathy pitch in her tone, again. Something that, along with her words, soothed Regan’s worries. “I only hung up when your breathing started to even out, and I–”

Regan could see the way Emma bit her lip, and she tilted her head in curiosity. “You…?” She prompted.

“I just… I’ve never had sex with someone and not been with them,” Emma admitted, sounding embarrassed. “It felt really impersonal, and weird, and wrong to not be with you, after. So, I just thought that I’d get you some water and come in here to see you. Which, ah, now that I’m doing it and seeing the way you’re staring at me, I’m wondering if maybe I shouldn’t have?”

Any of those cold, ugly feelings that had started to worm their way in were completely washed away, and Regan quickly shook her head. “You absolutely should have. Come in,” she urged, waving Emma over to her. “Please.”

She could hardly stop herself from bouncing on the mattress, feeling herself completely come alive all over again in Emma’s physical presence. Especially as Emma walked, tentatively, closer.

She reached out for the water as soon as Emma was close enough, very deliberately sliding her fingers over Emma’s, and relishing that feeling that buzzed through her at the connection.

As she brought the glass to her lips, she stared up at Emma in her dark room, and she could see how unsure Emma was, right now. She’d been able to hear it, when Emma had explained herself. And something about that made Regan feel so… endeared. Like she wanted to pull Emma down against her and hold her closely.

Because Emma was always such a commanding presence. Like she never doubted herself or how she felt or how she approached the world. But right now, in the middle of the night in Regan’s room, after they’d essentially come as close to having sex with one another as they could without actually touching each other, she seemed off-kilter.

And because she knew Emma, she reached out with her other hand and grasped Emma’s before she could walk away and gruffly excuse herself back to her own room.

“Do you want to sleep with me?” She asked as soon as she finished drinking her water. “Just sleep. I swear. No funny business… mostly because I’m all funny-businessed out,” she added with a teasing smile.

She could both see and feel Emma’s hesitation, even as she squeezed Regan’s hand.

“I really liked sleeping with you the other night,” Regan confessed in a whisper, and it was the utter truth. “I’d love to do it in my bed instead of on the couch.” Internally, she forced herself to pump on the brakes. “But I get if you don’t want to. We did go a little further than either of us had anticipated, already, tonight.”

Still, though, Regan caught and held her breath. Wanting with every fiber of her being for Emma to take her up on her offer.

She’d never slept with another person in her bed. Never. Whenever she’d been sleeping with guys or dating, she’d stayed at their place, respecting this apartment as her and Sutton’s sanctuary. But her entire body tingled with eager anticipation at the idea of sharing her bed with Emma. Especially after what they’d just done.

“Yeah. I’d like that,” Emma agreed, her voice so, so soft.

Thrilled, Regan quickly placed her glass on her bedside table – so quickly, it rocked back and forth and nearly fell over – before she lifted herself up to scramble under the blanket, and then held the blanket up for Emma to scoot in.

Which, she did.

She sat, and then slowly reclined against one of Regan’s pillows – the one Regan had pushed her face into a few minutes ago, actually, and that was a whole other rush for her.

Even as Emma laid back, Regan stayed sitting up for another minute, looking down at her.

“You’re in my bed,” she whispered, excitedly.

“I really liked sleeping with you the other night, too,” Emma murmured, rolling her lips after, as she looked up at Regan. Slowly, she arched an eyebrow at her, and with it, she started to look far more like her typical self. “Are you going to lay down, or just keep looking at me like that?”

Regan shrugged, even as she shifted to snuggle down into her bed. “I just want to memorize it. You. Here.”

She scooched in close to Emma, pressing their legs together. Emma was wearing shorts, too, and Regan shivered at the sensation of their skin-on-skin contact. She didn’t stop, though, until she was pressed right into Emma’s side, and she paused before she draped her arm over Emma’s waist.

“Is this okay? It’s how we woke up the other day, but–”

Emma’s intent stare remained locked on Regan’s face as she slowly nodded. “Yeah. I… I really like the way you feel, like this.”

Oh, god. That hoarse tone to her voice had nothing to do with sex or lust, now, and everything to do with a shy confession, Regan could tell. And it made her heart skip a beat.

“Me, too,” she reassured, needing Emma to know she was far from being alone in that.

She rested her head on Emma’s shoulder, settling down snugly against her, before she took a deep breath and filled her lungs with Emma. She melted into it, feeling that post-orgasm exhaustion start to filter back.

“What we just did, for the record, was super hot,” she whispered against the thin, soft fabric of Emma’s shirt. “I have no regrets, and I hope you don’t, either.”

She felt a shiver run up her spine as Emma pressed her hand to the small of her back, sliding ever-so-cautiously under Regan’s tank top. “I don’t, and I agree.”

Completely satisfied – physically and emotionally – Regan felt a smile tug at her lips as she closed her eyes. “For the record, I love your glasses. 10/10 think you should wear them more.”

She could hear Emma set the aforementioned glasses on her nightstand, and Regan loved that she felt more than heard the soft, sleepy chuckle Emma breathed out. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Good, thank you.” She sighed, that sleepiness she’d been begging for earlier finally hitting her like a ton of bricks. “Sweet dreams, Emma.”

“Sweet dreams back.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Emma was definitely not babysitting her sisters the night after her date with Regan because she was nervous to be alone with Regan in their apartment.

Only, maybe she was. A little bit.

Granted, she was also doing it to help out her gram, which made her feel a lot better and a whole lot less crazy about the whole thing.

When she’d been winding down at work earlier, her grandmother had reached out to her. She’d informed Emma that there was an emergency at the women’s shelter Kimberly ran, and that Kimberly was going to need to be on-site to manage it. Ted was out of town for work, and Kimberly had asked – apologetically, her gram was sure to tell her – if Gram could watch the girls this evening. Apparently, Kimberly had sounded very stressed, and she’d assured that she would manage to get Eva and Everly to Astoria “somehow” before getting to the shelter, so that Gram wouldn’t need to figure out transport to New Jersey.

Gram, being Gram, had agreed to watch her grandchildren – coming as no surprise.

But she’d tentatively asked Emma if Emma would mind “being on-call” tonight, because, “It makes me a little ashamed to admit it, Em, but you know it’s been a long time since I’ve been in charge of watching any kiddos on my own. But I remember how tiring it was, even before my… health issues.”

Emma had frowned, disliking the idea of her gram possibly being run-down – especially as it had been less than a week since her heat exhaustion at the birthday party.

Her discomfort at that had warred with her discomfort at the offer to babysit, herself. Because she barely knew Eva and Everly, and in the limited time she’d spent with them, Emma hadn’t figured out the magic trick to feeling some sort of sisterly bond.

Then, though, then… Emma thought about what her night might potentially look like, at home.

No, she didn’t have any plans tonight. But neither did Regan. In fact, according to the calendar on the fridge, Regan was off from work by two in the afternoon and had tomorrow off.

So, ostensibly, the evening would just be the two of them.

Alone.

In their apartment, together.

She’d had no intention of taking things so far last night – after literally only one date! A date she was still trying to wrap her mind around – and they hadn’t even gotten back to their apartment until almost eleven PM! She was very, very uncertain about what situation they’d find themselves in if they spent the entire night in closed quarters together, especially now that this chemistry between them had burst to life in screaming color.

Emma had put herself in a real pickle by volunteering to go to New Jersey and watch her sisters, though, because she’d immediately known she’d need Regan to join her.

No way in hell could she do it alone, without her. She didn’t even want to try. That, alone, had been a jarring realization.

And, of course, Regan had gamely jumped on board.

Which was how Emma found herself sitting next to Regan on the couch in Kimberly’s house, as they neared the end of The Game of Life with Eva and Everly. Everly had been the one to announce – as soon as they’d walked in – that it was board game night, and Emma had learned in the last two hours that board game night literally meant a night full of board games.

“Aha! Got another kiddo to put in the back of my car.” Regan hummed in excitement, as she added a little pink “person” into her plastic van. “What do you want to name this one?” She asked Emma, fluttering her eyelashes, as she leaned into her.

Emma rolled her eyes, pushing back into Regan. It didn’t push her away and, instead, it left them leaning heavily into one another, and she felt the entire side of her body tingle pleasantly with the connection.

She didn’t know what to make of it, what to make of Regan. What to make of these feelings. What to make of… this. She certainly didn’t think that she’d be figuring it out here, under the watchful eyes of her little sisters, in her mother’s house, though.

“I want to know why you’re so excited about adding kids to your van when you’re, like, two turns away from retirement,” Emma countered, gesturing to where Regan was on the board.

“Some grandparents raise kids,” Eva muttered from where she sat on the opposite side of the coffee table. “I figured you would know that.”

Emma pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes at her sister. It was far from the first comment she’d made like that since Emma had arrived a couple of hours ago, and it was getting more difficult to ignore them.

“My turn!” Everly announced excitedly, pushing herself up to spin the dial.

Emma nodded encouragingly at her youngest sister as she counted out the spaces to move, and Everly beamed back at her, proudly.

Okay, so managing Everly was a lot easier than Eva. Emma could really appreciate that tonight.

She reached out and spun the wheel for her own turn, before landing on a space and receiving a “life event” card to read aloud.

“Your newest book release was a success,” she read from the card. “Collect fifty-thousand dollars.”

“I always knew you could do it,” Regan’s voice was jovial and light and teasing, but she squeezed her hand where it sat on Emma’s thigh, and that sensation was very, very real.

Every brush against Regan’s body made Emma think, without fail, about last night. About the sounds Regan had made while she’d orgasmed, about how she’d described – without an ounce of shame – what she’d been thinking about. What she’d wanted to do to and with Emma.

“Yeah, you get everything. Yay,” Eva’s voice cut in, scoffing with such gusto in a way only a preteen could.

Eva’s comments had served a purpose, Emma supposed. Before she could get too caught up in any inappropriate thoughts about Regan, before any actual heat could take hold, her sister’s acerbic statements cut straight to the quick.  

So, that was good. That was exactly why she was here.

Only… being here also meant she was facing this ire from Eva all night. Truly, a double-edged sword.

“Ooookay,” Regan muttered under her breath, shooting a glance at Emma as she darted her eyes toward Eva in silent acknowledgement. “I’m going to cut the brownies we cooked earlier. Does anyone need anything?”

Everly popped up in excitement. “I want to help! Can I help?”

Regan laughed, using the hand she had on Emma’s thigh to push herself up.

Even that, the pressure from that innocuous touch, made Emma shiver and reaffirm that she had very much done the right thing by coming here tonight. By giving them a little… distraction.

“All right, kiddo, then let’s hit it. But to be clear, I’m the one holding the knife,” Regan commented.

“I never get to use a knife,” Everly mumbled, sighing heavily, as she led the way out of the room.

“We all have our battles,” Regan’s sympathetic response came, making Emma grin as she stared after them.

“Ugh,” Eva’s quiet, disdainful sound grabbed Emma’s attention.

Again – it was a good thing, cutting through this insane attraction and infatuation with Regan that seemed to be multiplying by the minute, now that Emma had allowed it out of the cage she’d kept it locked in.

But, still, she couldn’t help the narrow-eyed look she shot at her sister. “What?”

Eva stared back at her, unwavering. “That look on your face. It’s so sappy and….” She rolled her eyes, before muttering, “Whatever.”

Emma rolled her lips, and told herself that it was fine. Eva could say whatever little comments she wanted to say; she was twelve. Emma wasn’t going to confront a child.

And yet… all of these looks and the remarks – that she’d been on the receiving end of all summer – hit on something, inside of Emma. They bothered her. They mattered to her, in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

With that in mind, she braced herself and asked, “Look, Eva, can you just tell me, if I’ve done something to you? There’s clearly something going on, here, and–”

“I just don’t like you. That’s all,” Eva cut her off, throwing Emma a pouty look.

Taken aback, Emma felt the remainder of whatever she’d been going to say completely disappear. She hadn’t known a comment like that would cut so deep, either, but she felt the sharpness of it inside of her. “Ah… okay.”

For a few awkward moments of silence, she wondered if she should just accept that. Eva was her own person; she had the right to feel however she felt.

Maybe, a couple of months ago, she would have left if alone.

But not now.

Because now, Emma felt the niggling need to push for more. It was a very different phenomenon for her, but she went with it.

“Can I ask why? What have I done to you?”

Because Emma was at a total loss. She wracked her brain, trying to think of anything she could have possibly–

“Nothing,” Eva spit back, heatedly. “You haven’t done anything. You’ve never done anything to want to be a part of our family, and Mom still acts like you’re the center of the stupid universe.”

Shocked by the honesty, vitriol, and the words themselves, Emma could only stare across the table.

It seemed like all Eva had been waiting for was Emma to give her an opening. “You never came to visit us in Miami. You never came to any birthday parties or Christmases or anything. I looked in Mom’s Emma Box, and she invited you to everything we ever did! And you never came.”

“Her Emma Box?” She repeated, still trying to make some sense of this.

“Yeah. The box of everything about you that she keeps in her closet. And it includes little notes about every party and holiday and stuff that she’s invited you to, and why you said you couldn’t come,” Eva explained, glowering at Emma. “We moved here so she could be close to you, and you still didn’t even come over for months! You don’t even care about our mom, and she still loves you the most!”

“That’s not true,” Emma immediately rejected the idea, reeling back as she shook her head. “She loves you and Everly more than anything; you have to know that.”

Eva’s bottom lip stuck out in a haughty pout as she sniffed angrily and angled her jaw up, and, wow.

Emma’s stomach twisted with a feeling she didn’t quite understand or recognize, but – this girl was her sister. That stubborn set of her jaw and the way her blue eyes glinted up at Emma with that attitude… Emma saw herself, there. She saw herself so clearly, it was startling.

“Fine,” Eva snapped. “She loves us. But – but did you know that we only have our names because of you? Eva and Everly. She told my dad that she wanted to have something that tied all of her kids together, and she’d already used her favorite name on you. So, she picked E names for us, too. Did you know that?” She insisted, clearly not intending for the question to be rhetorical.

Emma blinked back, her stomach twisting in knots with the information. “I didn’t,” she admitted, quietly.

“And it’s not even just Mom!” Eva hit the palm of her hand against the table, clearly worked up. “Gram also thinks you’re perfect. She’s my gram, too, but she loves you the most. And you don’t – you don’t even care.”

Eva crossed her arms so tightly over herself, and Emma could tell she was holding herself together even as all of these clearly deep-seated feelings unraveled.

Emma had never once really seen herself reflected in her sisters in anything beyond the occasional physical resemblance, but she did right now. The pent-up frustration, the uncertain emotions flashing over Eva’s face. The certainty that she knew everything.

And, wow. Emma really felt that resonating inside of her. Spiraling through her veins, as she stared in awe across the table. This girl – this stubborn, grumpy twelve-year-old girl – was her sister. She was a part of her, in a ways Emma hadn’t ever known they’d shared.

“I do care.” Emma’s voice was soft, and she’d never felt connected to Eva before in any way, but right now, she did.

Sitting here, with a board game about fake lives between them, she understood her little sister.

She didn’t agree with her, but… life really was all a matter of perspective. And Emma didn’t know if that had ever been more apparent to her than right now.

Other than, maybe, with Regan.

“I do care about you, and Everly. And our mom. And I care – a lot – about what Gram thinks about me.” Emma reached up, scrubbing her hand over her face, as she tried to work through everything in her mind. As she tried to figure out how to sort out the complicated feelings inside of her. As she tried to figure out what made sense to discuss with her much younger sister, and what wasn’t appropriate.

Ultimately, though, Emma found herself shrugging, heavily.

“I’m just going to be real with you, Eva, because I don’t want to talk to you like you’re a baby, and I don’t know how else to say this, but – your relationship with our mom is very different than mine is.” There. That made sense.

Eva rolled her eyes back at her, but didn’t immediately shoot back a retort, so Emma pushed on.

“Honestly, I don’t know how much Mom has told you about her life before you were born. About my life, when I was younger.” She paused, again wondering how much was acceptable to say.

Because, in a shocking twist of events, she felt a little protective over Kimberly, right now. She really didn’t know how much Eva and Everly knew about Kimberly’s life, pre-Ted. And the reality Emma was facing in a rapid turn of events, was that… she didn’t want to ruin the image Eva had.

Her mom had done a lot of work to get to the place she was in, now. Emma had a lot of issues with Kimberly, but she knew that without a doubt. She’d gone to college, she’d started working at women’s shelters. She’d become a model PTA parent. Maybe she hadn’t been able to do that for Emma, but she’d done it for her little sisters, and Emma – she respected it.

Eva’s jaw was still set in a hard line, as she shrugged. “I know enough.”

Emma couldn’t help but roll her eyes, even as she felt her lips tick into a small, exasperated grin. Yep. This girl was her fucking sister.

“So, if you know enough, then you know that I lived with Gram. And you know that Mom wasn’t… the same parent for me that she is for you,” she spoke carefully, knowing she was toeing a line. “And honestly, Eva? Growing up, that wasn’t always the easiest thing for me to deal with. So, that’s why I didn’t accept the invitations to holidays and birthdays.”

Whew. God, saying that aloud to Eva was surprisingly… freeing, in a way.

Eva still frowned at her, but it was filled with slightly less anger. At least, Emma thought so.

“And Gram doesn’t love me more than she loves you, either.” Emma wouldn’t – couldn’t – not jump in to defend their gram in this. “But she was the one that did my birthday parties and Christmases. So… the relationship I have with her is always going to be a little different than the one you have with her. But it’s not because she thinks I’m perfect; it’s because she was – in a lot of ways – my mom.”

She stared intently across the table, hoping that she wasn’t laying too much out for her sister. Hoping that she wasn’t throwing a bomb into this situation and making it any worse, for anyone.

Eva’s frown slowly melted into much more of a pout. “Do you not like me and Everly?” She asked, quietly, tilting her head at Emma. “Or is it just Mom?”

Oof. The quiet vulnerability in those questions packed far more of a punch than Emma had been prepared for.

“I just don’t know you all that well,” she said, honestly. “And I meant what I said, before: I really do care about you both. And I care about Mom. It’s just… hard,” she admitted, her voice cracking unexpectedly on the word.

A little embarrassed, she cleared her throat and continued, “It’s hard for me, too, sometimes. You see me and Gram being close, being a family that you don’t feel like a part of, and it makes you feel badly. Right?”

Eva slowly nodded, dipping her gaze down to the board game as she reached out and toyed with her van, idly. Looking a little embarrassed, herself, admitting vulnerable feelings.

“Sometimes… sometimes, it used to make me feel badly, to see you and Everly and our mom and your dad, as a family that I don’t feel like a part of.”

Eva swallowed as she pouted her bottom lip thoughtfully, staring down at the board game. “Does it still make you feel bad? To see us?”

Emma felt the question land, deep in her stomach, and she sat back as she mulled it over. She looked around the den, belonging to a happy little family that played board games and had movie nights – a family she was a part of, but not fully.

And while she still had a tug of that feeling she’d had a couple of months ago, the first time she’d come over here, she didn’t feel sick from it. Her stomach clenched a little, but she didn’t feel like she needed to cry or run away.

“A little bit,” she admitted, softly. “But less than it did, before. And… I’d like to get to a place where it doesn’t feel badly, at all.”

She was surprised at the words coming out of her own mouth, but they were the utter truth. Somewhere along the line, she’d started to let this in as a reality, and it didn’t make her want to die.

Eva blinked up at her, her eyebrows furrowed deeply. As if she was trying to assess how much she could trust Emma.

Emma felt that was fair; she didn’t trust easily, either.

“Well… I wouldn’t hate if you came to dinner more, then.” Eva shrugged once more, the look in her eyes a little brighter. “Especially if you keep bringing Regan.”

A loud cough from the far side of the room drew both of their attention, as Regan rounded the corner. She had a plate of brownies in one hand, with a few bottles of water tucked into the crook of her arm, and Everly skipped in behind her, already munching on a brownie.

“Dessert is served!” Regan announced, as she set the plate down with a flourish.

Emma felt like she’d run a marathon in the last five minutes, and she leaned heavily back against the couch cushions.

She didn’t know if she was relieved or not to be interrupted before she found herself confessing to her twelve-year-old sister that she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to leave Regan behind.

***

Emma yawned, widely, as she walked back into the den after triple-checking to make sure Everly was really in bed for the night.

If she’d wanted something tonight to help her see a similarity to Everly, it had come in the form of her doggedness to want to stay up as late as possible, telling Emma how much she hated waking up early in the morning.

Her footsteps came to a pause as her gaze landed on Regan.

Specifically, Regan’s ass. As Regan was bent over across the room at the built-in shelves, organizing the mess of board games that had been picked over throughout the night.

Emma drew in a deep, calming breath through her nose, before alerting Regan to her presence. “I feel very grateful for my years of babysitting experience.”

Regan didn’t immediately straighten up – much to Emma’s damnation. Rather, she sent Emma a look over her shoulder, dark eyes glinting from interest. “You were a babysitter?”

“Number one trusted call for everyone in my building, all throughout high school.” Emma used her thumbs to point at herself. She tilted her head at Regan, curiously. “Did you babysit?”

Now – thankfully – Regan stood up and turned to look at her, incredulously. “Emma. Do you think people trusted me to babysit?”

“A couple of months ago, I’d say a resounding no, with a laugh for good measure,” she agreed, easily, before she bit at her bottom lip and slowly shook her head. “Now, though, I’d say you’re a far more trustworthy source than people think. More trustworthy than you let on, actually,” she added on, speaking slowly.

But it was the truth, now that she really thought about it.

Regan played into being chaotic and flighty, and maybe she was – to an extent. But she noticed everything, and she was the best listener Emma had ever known.

Before she could push into that even deeper – and she very much wanted to – Regan shrugged. “Yeah, well, I also didn’t know a lot of people with young kids. Anyway, back to the point here: I’m sure you’ve never run into the conversation you had with Eva while you were babysitting someone else?”

Regan’s voice was light, tentative. She wasn’t pushing, but the look in her eyes was hopeful, clearly eager to see if Emma would share with her.

Surprised, Emma’s eyebrows lifted high on her forehead. “You could hear us?”

“Not the whole thing,” Regan assured her, shaking her head. “I’d looped back to see if you two wanted something to drink and overheard… a little. So, I skedaddled back to the kitchen. I tried to give you a little longer, but Everly was rearing to get back to the game, and I’d distracted her as long as I could in the kitchen. That’s why I announced myself so clearly.”

Emma breathed out a sigh, trying desperately to hold onto her sanity. Any semblance of sanity, really, that kept her from doing what she now desperately wanted to do. To walk closer to Regan, to be close enough to breathe her in.

With that sanity, she kept her hands tightly pressed to her sides, and stayed across the room from Regan.

Even if her sisters were no longer awake, they were still in the house. They were all in Kimberly’s house.

There.

That thought served Emma a little dose of reality. Great.

“You’re right, I’ve definitely never had that intense of a conversation with anyone else I’ve babysat,” she agreed, warily, tugging her hand through her hair. “But… I think it was good.”

She wouldn’t say she believed she and Eva were going to be super close, immediately. Maybe ever – Emma couldn’t read the future like that. But what she did know was that after they’d talked, Eva’s eyerolls and comments seemed a lot more like a typical preteen and less like someone that hated Emma’s guts.

So, that was a positive.

Regan’s smile was so soft, so coaxing, Emma felt reeled into it. “Look at you, Emma Mystery-Middle-Name Bordeaux.”

Rolling her lips, determined not to give into the smile that wanted to slide onto her face, Emma shook her head. “Yeah, I’m still not going to tell you.”

Regan’s mouth fell open in offense and she crossed her arms over her chest. “Emma! I took you on a date that you ranked as a twelve out of ten, and you still won’t tell me your middle name?!”

She shook her head, unfailingly entertained by Regan even as she was charmed by her. The reminder of the damn date…

Regan seemed to perk up a second later, and she slowly tilted her head. “So… if you don’t want to talk about your middle name, then why don’t we address the elephant in the room?”

“The elephant?” She echoed, leaning back against the doorway and making herself comfortable there.

It was wiser, she thought, to stay here. Rather than potentially be convinced to sit next to Regan, where they would inevitably be right in each other’s personal space, and Emma would inevitably find herself wanting.

Regan seemed to have none of the same concerns of keeping space between them, as she slowly started walking closer. “Emma. Are you going to pretend that you offering to babysit your sisters – for the first time ever – the literal day after we spent the night together is just a coincidence?”

Emma could only stare at Regan, her mouth falling open slightly at the sheer indignance. Because, “How do you do that? How?” She demanded to know.

That, at least, made Regan pause, leaving a solid four feet of space between them, still. “Do what?”

Emma tossed her hands in the air, exasperated. “How do you read me so well?”

“Oh.” Regan shrugged, watching Emma intently. “I mean… it’s not hard, I guess? You might think you’re a closed book, Emma, but I think I have your number.”

“I think you do, too,” she agreed, distressingly.

“So, are you going to do us both a favor and admit that you were having us babysit so that you could pull back from what we started last night?” Regan pushed, that edge of raw honesty in her tone cutting right into Emma, right to the heart of everything.

Emma felt her heart thud in her chest, as she slowly shook her head. “I did,” she admitted. “But – not because I’m trying to pull back from you. Or from this.” She gestured between the two of them.

Regan’s expression slid into something sweetly surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed, swallowing thickly, before she explained, “I’m just trying to figure out how to put some brakes on this – on us – so that we don’t go careening forward too fast.”

Regan took another step closer to her. Then another. And the look on her face, as she peered up at Emma was so gentle, in a way no one had ever looked at her before. “Will it make you feel better if I swear to you that I won’t jump your bones when we’re alone in our apartment? I know it might not seem like it,” a self-deprecating smile flashed over Regan’s face. “But I can control myself a little bit–”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Emma cut in, her cheeks burning with the truth.

That, again, stopped Regan in her tracks. Those gorgeous, dark eyes widened as her mouth fell open with surprise, and the gleam of excitement was clear. “Emma–”

“I’m worried about me,” she added, even though she knew Regan already understood the unspoken implication. But Emma needed to say it. She had to get this out. “I want you, Regan. I’m the one that answered your text last night. I’m the one that didn’t hang up the phone. And I’m the one that came into your room, after. It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Emma had never in her life been someone that didn’t have some control over herself.

But that had been exactly how she’d felt when she’d gone into her room, post-date. She’d felt the ghost of Regan’s hips rolling needily against hers while they’d kissed. She’d felt that kiss, burning through her. She’d felt… god, she’d felt so wanted and wanting in equal measure.

Emma had done very, very well to keep Regan from entering into her dirtiest, neediest thoughts. But the dam was had been officially broken, and she’d touched herself – feeling so wet, her clit so achingly hard – with a fervor she’d never had before.

She’d never been so turned on in her fucking life as she’d been when she’d come for Regan, and she’d felt desperate for more when Regan had orgasmed – loud and unashamed – for her. She hadn’t even known what the hell she’d been thinking when she’d hung up their call and hurriedly gotten out of bed and went to get Regan a glass of water.

All she’d known was that she needed to actually, physically, see Regan after that.

“Do you regret last night? Either the sex or coming to sleep with me?” Regan asked, her voice an octave lower than before, and raspy. So raspy, it made Emma shiver.

And she found she couldn’t be anything other than truthful, as she shook her head. “No. I don’t regret it.”

She’d tried. This morning, after she’d woken up with her face buried in Regan’s soft, dark hair because of her alarm blaring in her ear – she’d tried. She’d told herself all morning at work that they’d moved too fast. That this wasn’t the right thing.

But she didn’t actually feel that way, and she was so, so tired of trying to pull herself back from Regan.

“This is all really new for me. Yes, I’ve been in a serious relationship, before. But it wasn’t – it didn’t feel like this,” she could hear her own desperation in her voice. “It didn’t feel so consuming. I didn’t think about her all of the time. I didn’t feel this need to check my phone to see if she texted. I didn’t count down the time in my head until we were going to see one another, again. And it’s crazy, because I’ve been doing all of those things for you, for far longer than the last few days.”

There it was. The utter, most honest truth she had for Regan.

“You are so honest with the way you feel, Regan, that it blows me away. Oh, you’re attracted to me? Well, then, you kiss me. Oh, you realize you have feelings for me? Well, then, you confess it to me. Oh, you want to know what it’s like to be with me? Well, then you take me out on an incredible date and make it impossible for me to think straight. Do you know how crazy that is, conceptually, to me?” Emma demanded, needing Regan to understand. To see how different they were, how baffling she was to Emma.

“Do you not… like it?” Regan asked so quietly, uncertainly, as she bit the inside of her cheek.

Emma scoffed, scrubbing her hands roughly over her face. “I like it,” she informed Regan, her voice gravelly. “I like it, and you, far too much. 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 wide, unabridged smile that broke over Regan’s face was breathtaking, and she walked even closer to Emma. “Good, because I love it, too. I love that I can be my whole self with you, and I never hold back, and it’s never been my experience, either! But I think it’s a good thing. A really good thing.”

“It is,” she agreed. “But it’s also something that makes me think – how soon is too soon? How are we possibly going to keep our wits about us when we’re in such close quarters in our own apartment, all alone?”

Emma was entirely unsure if she could. Even now, in her mother’s house, with her little sisters upstairs, she stared at Regan and she craved to be closer.

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.

Pressing herself back against the wall in a way that was reminiscent of her response to their first kiss, Emma shook her head. “Hence, the babysitting.”

“You wanted little cockblocks around so that we didn’t tear each other’s clothing off,” Regan surmised in the most Regan way possible.

Emma chuckled, unable to deny, “Yeah. Exactly.”

Regan hummed quietly under her breath. “Okay, well, why don’t we both just agree that we won’t do anything – when it comes to sex – without checking in with each other about it, in-depth, first? You know, like, we can both keep each other in check. Make sure we’re only doing what we think we’re ready for?”

She took another step closer, leaving the distance between them only inches, as she clasped her hands behind her back and tilted her head up at Emma.

“I don’t want to rush into anything with you. I just want to keep doing what we’re doing,” Regan’s tone was so earnest, so open, and the sigh it elicited from Emma trembled out of her.

“I do, too,” she agreed in a whisper. “We just… we have to be smart about it. We share the apartment and Sutton, and I still need us to make sure those things don’t implode.”

“Totally agreed,” Regan promised, digging her teeth into her bottom lip as she rocked forward on her toes, pushing even closer… closer into Emma.

Their bodies brushed ever so slightly, Regan’s chest pushing against Emma’s, and Emma dropped her head heavily back against the wall.

“Regan,” she breathed in warning or encouragement or… she didn’t even know anymore.

“My hands are behind my back,” Regan murmured back, her breath washing over Emma’s neck, and the sensation made her shiver. “I’m not touching you. I’m not even going to ask if you want to sit on the couch, lest anything get too hot and heavy.”

There it was. That tone Regan had, that made Emma so wet, so quickly.

“But haven’t you ever made out while you were babysitting, before? Isn’t that, like, a classic move?” Regan asked, remaining in that exact position. Brushing her body just so against Emma’s, just enough to feel teasingly close, but not leaning in and giving her anything more. Anything substantial.

That unstoppable heat slid through her, and she shook her head as she grit out, “Nope. I believe that’s the classic move for what not to do when you’re babysitting, actually.”

“Mm,” Regan hummed, flicking her tongue out and licking her insanely full lips. “Right. Guess that’s why I never got the job.”

“Regan,” she breathed again, unsure of what her tone conveyed other than a needy whine.

Somehow, Emma felt okay with that.

“I’m not going to kiss you. I want to kiss you,” Regan husked out. “Because I’ve been unable to think about anything other than you since I woke up this morning. But if you want to kiss me, then I need to know it’s what you really want. Because I don’t want to have a repeat of last night, if you’re going to try to put distance between us, after. I–”

Emma couldn’t help it. Every breath that Regan exhaled, every word she spoke, washed over Emma and made this need inside of her grow higher and hotter.

It was fine, she assured herself, as she leaned down and captured Regan’s perfect mouth with her own.

They weren’t even on the couch, true to Regan’s word. How caught up could they get if they didn’t settle into a bed or a couch or even a chair?

***

Very.

They could get very caught up in one another.

Emma had made no such promise to keep her hands to herself, and she hadn’t even registered when she’d moved them down to land on Regan’s hips. She didn’t recall any conscious thought to work them under Regan’s t-shirt to feel her soft, warm skin.

She definitely didn’t remember making the decision to slide her hands down even further so that she could cup Regan’s ass in her palms. She didn’t remember the decision to do so, but she’d done it.

And it felt so good. Regan’s firm butt under her hands, as Regan writhed against her. Emma was still pressed solidly against the wall – leaning, really, as Regan leaned her entire body into Emma’s.

Regan’s hands hadn’t remained behind her back, but Emma couldn’t fault her for it. Not when she’d been the first one to touch, and definitely not when it felt so fucking good to feel Regan’s hands on her.

Her deft, nimble fingers that had jerked Emma’s shirt out of her slacks – she was still wearing the same clothing she’d worn to work – and slid up Emma’s sides, before scratching to her back. Unsurprisingly, Regan’s hands never stayed in one place for too long.

Neither did her mouth. Her tongue moved actively and insistently against Emma’s, seeming to want to explore every part of Emma’s mouth. She traced over Emma’s teeth, the seam of her lips, the tip of her tongue. She worked those impeccably plush lips over Emma’s bottom one, sucking it between her own.

And now, she was working insistently at Emma’s neck. She’d dragged her lips down Emma’s neck, before moving to the other side to plant open-mouthed, wet kisses that were slowly driving Emma fucking crazy.

Her head was back against the wall, her mouth open as she panted out quiet sounds. Soft whimpers and choked-off moans, and –

“Oh, wow!” Kimberly’s voice broke into the lust-addled haze that had fully clouded Emma’s mind.

Her hands tightened on Regan’s ass, before she hurriedly released her, dropping her hands listlessly to her sides. Regan’s mouth on her neck froze, before she whipped her head up, and they both turned toward the large entryway.

Emma felt her cheeks burn as the mortification worked through her veins, dampening the arousal that was thrumming through her. “I… um…”

She could barely even catch her breath, still! What could she possibly say in her defense!

Regan’s dark eyes looked glazed over and her pillowy lips were red and swollen, and – Emma immediately looked away, because looking at Regan when she looked like that was not good for her nervous system.

“And here I was, thinking you were a reliable babysitter; that’s what your gram always proudly reported to me,” Kimberly drawled, arching a look at Emma.

Guilt mixed with the embarrassment, and Emma dropped her head into her hands.

“Both Eva and Everly were up in bed before we did this!” Regan jumped in, somewhat helpfully. “We played board games all night; they’ll vouch for us.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma finally managed to get out. She rolled her shoulders back and looked up at Kimberly, feeling the effects of this double-whammy.

Not only had she besmirched her perfect babysitting record, but she’d been caught by her mother making out like a teenager.

“I really am, I…” She trailed off, confusion taking over as she saw the wide smile on Kimberly’s face.

“You don’t need to apologize.” Kimberly waved that off, clutching her purse with both hands as she grinned at Emma so excitedly, she’d almost think it was Christmas morning. “Emma Bo Bemma! I got to walk in and catch you making out with your girlfriend while you’re babysitting your sisters?”

Her tone was awed, matching the way she perched one hand over her chest.

“I mean… I never thought I’d have this moment,” she continued, and her eyes were so wide. Were there tears in them?! “And you felt so comfortable, to do it in my house?”

Regan let out a peel of laughter, before Emma saw her slap her hand over her mouth out of the corner of her eye. “Sorry. I just…” She cleared her throat, shaking back her hair. Which was a little tousled, because – apparently – Emma’s hands had also worked through her hair, as well.

Emma couldn’t believe the laughter she felt bubbling up inside, but there it was. She almost felt high, with the rush of endorphins and attraction still flooding through her, with the shock of being caught by Kimberly, and then the incredulity of her mom’s reaction to this…

Yeah, she couldn’t help but laugh at it, feeling her shoulders relax with it.

Kimberly sighed, staring at Emma like she’d made her dreams literally come true. “By all means, you can keep going. I won’t interrupt again.”

It made Emma laugh harder, even as she tried to get some control over herself. “Um, no. That’s okay; we should go home.”

“Well, if you ever need a place…” Kimberly shrugged, gesturing around them.

Emma couldn’t believe her mother was offering her house as some sort of a hookup pad for her and Regan. She couldn’t believe she’d actually just been walked in on by her mother. And, amidst it all, she didn’t feel like she was going to be sick to her stomach.

She felt the tentative brush of Regan’s fingers against the back of her hand, and she moved without thought to interlock their hands together.

“I think we’re good. But thanks.”

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