“Good morning.”
At the amused, lyrical voice, I bolt upright. Emilia raises an eyebrow, holding up a cup. “Coffee? I like mine strong.”
Head pounding and my mouth like sandpaper, I stare at her. Her hair is wet, the leggings and t-shirt more casual than I’ve seen her wear before as she hovers in front of me. “What… what are you doing here?”
Or more accurately… what the fuck amIdoing here?
Bemused, I blink to clear the sleep from my eyes. Because this is her apartment. “I stayed here last night?”
“On the couch.” Emilia surveys me. “You don’t remember?”
There’s an uncertainty to her voice that makes me rack my brain to try. “We walked home from the bar.”
But everything is blurry. I collapse back down, throwing my hand over my eyes. “I was too drunk to walk home.”
“You were.” She nudges the cup into my hands. “I’ll get you some painkillers.”
“Thanks.” I take a sip, grimacing. She wasn’t kidding. It’s like tar. But… not bad, actually.
I need all the caffeine I can get if I’m going to have any hope of moving from this spot.
“I’ll get out of your hair in a minute. Are you working today?” The bang of a cupboard door comes from behind me, and Emilia returns, passing me two painkillers and a bottle of water that she cracks open so I can swig it with my free hand.
She settles on the floor opposite me, cradling her own coffee. “It’s Sunday, so no.”
Already?
She purses her lips. “What are you doing today?”
Staring at walls and contemplating the giant fuck-up I’m making of my life.
I clear my throat. “Not much. You?”
One shoulder lifts. I catch a glimpse of skin, marred by the same mottled scarring that covers her cheek. “There’s a flea market down by the pier. I was going to walk down, if you want to come and clear your head.”
I hesitate. She sounds casual enough, but there’s something. “What did we talk about last night?”
Why does it feel different?
Because you slept on her couch, and now she’s sitting opposite you with bare feet and wet hair.
This feels... intimate. Another page of the book that is Emilia Marsters. Another step into her life.
Emilia studies me, and I start to panic until her forehead furrows. “Nothing. Just… random stuff.”
Oh.
Say no. Tell her you’re busy after all.
But that’s not what comes out of my mouth. “I haven’t really seen much of this place. Might be interesting.”
Not when I spend most of my free time in the apartment, drinking my way through the local alcohol supply. If I’m not there, I’m normally only in two places.
The cemetery.
Or bumping into the girl in front of me. “I should head home and change though.”
Emilia chews on her lip, her words hesitant. “I still have some of… Ben’s things. Here, I mean. They’d probably fit you. You’re welcome to have a shower.”
