Joelle: You're delusional.
Emmett: I know you bit your lip when I made that joke about being hard.
Shit. He noticed that.
Joelle: I did not.
Emmett: Liar. Again.
I'm grinning at my phone like an idiot. This is dangerous. This is so fucking dangerous.
Joelle: Don't you have better things to do than text me?
Emmett: No.
Emmett: Do you want me to stop?
I stare at the screen. This is my out. I can say yes, and he'll stop. We'll go back to loaded glances and pretending nothing is happening.
Joelle: No.
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Emmett: What are you wearing?
I laugh out loud, then slap my hand over my mouth, hoping Collette didn't hear.
Joelle: Seriously? That's your move?
Emmett: Just curious.
Joelle: A T-shirt.
Emmett: That's it?
Joelle: And underwear. Why?
Emmett: Just picturing it.
Heat floods my cheeks. And lower.
Joelle: You shouldn't be picturing anything.
Emmett: Too late.
Emmett: I've been picturing a lot of things lately.
My breath catches.
Joelle: Emmett ...
Emmett: I think about that night all the time.
Emmett: The sounds you made.
Emmett: The way you tasted.
I squeeze my thighs together. This is escalating fast, and I should stop it. I should absolutely stop it.
