I wait for her to argue. To point out that nobody else is dancing. That people are still watching us. But she doesn’t.
Emmy takes my hand, placing her bouquet carefully on the ground before I tug her forward, into my chest. She presses her cheek against my shirt, listening.
And we dance.
18
Emmy
Istare at my face in the bathroom mirror, sucking air into my cheeks until I look like a chipmunk before I let it out.
“He’s seen it all before,” I mutter to my own reflection. “Stop freaking out.”
I apply the tiniest touch of lip gloss to my make-up before I add it to my bag and do the zip up, ready to go into my suitcase.
It’s our last night here.
It’s Ben’s last night here.
Tomorrow, we’re going to his apartment. To his bed, facing the ocean. To a tighter schedule of carers, and nurses, and increased medication.
Swallowing, I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling until the shimmering in my eyes disappears.
We’re not there yet.
Although maybe we’re getting closer.
But tonight is for us. Just for us.
Emmy and Ben. Before everything else crashes in.
My hands tremble as I smooth down the silk covering my body. Barely. Turning, I check myself one more time over my shoulder, my eyes lingering on the vivid red scars trailing down the back of my upper arm.
“Em?” Ben calls out from the bedroom. He sounds a little nervous – but then again, the last time I told him I had a surprise in the bathroom it was a new vitamin supplement that he told me tasted like gone-off egg. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I call back. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I move slowly to the doorway.
So much for a sexy shimmy. This is more of an awkward shuffle.
I keep my eyes on the floor as I step into view. “I… I thought you might like it?”
Silence.
“Ben,” I whisper, still staring at the floor. Heat creeps over my cheeks. “Say something.”
Feeling a little exposed right now.
This was a bad idea, Em.
He’s tired.
Just turn around.
I spin, but warm fingers grasp my wrist, gently tugging me back around. I raise my eyes to Ben’s face, his fingers nudging my face up as my teeth sink into my lower lip.
“There you are,” he whispers, scanning my face.
His fingers trace my skin. My scars, traveling down.
