[COMPLETE]
Emerson Castell loves facts.
Enjoying the how and why of everything, she never fails to let her obsession seep into every aspect of her life, including her relationships - or lack thereof.
Leo Caruso is no stranger to a busy social life...
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Are there ever moments in your life you keep replaying over and over? Except unlike your favorite song which you repeat on purpose because it's too addicting, these moments just won't migrate from your mind and rather, latch on like some sort of emotional parasite, expanding across all of the previously perfectly-functioning territory inside your head.
That situation occurred the moment I told Emerson I loved her, which might have been phrased a little too crassly, but either way I told a girl I loved her and all she did was stare.
And stare. And stare.
She stared for so long I began to worry for her corneas.
And then she threw her arms around me and began to cry again into my shoulder.
God, why wasn't I just gay?
I had to bolt from her house since her parents car pulled up in the driveway not long after, so I never got an answer as to whether she was galled by my statement or just really, really shocked—you know, to the point she forgot eyelids and eyelashes had a purpose.
I was so distraught by her reaction that even my grandfather noticed later.
"Leo," he began, looking up from the book he was reading on the living room armchair. I glanced at him with the corner of my eyes, my focus fixated on the basketball game on TV as my leg bobbed up and down, even though I didn't even like that sport. "Is something wrong?"
"Nope. Not all." Ever since the situation with my father had been resolved, he'd almost been more concerned about my general well-being. "I'm great."
"Leo, I was a teenager once. Granted, it was quite some time ago, but you're hiding something. So go ahead, you can throw it on me."
Did I really want to spill to grandfather the annals of my love life? Not really... So I phrased it more vaguely. "Grandpa, I'm sure you get women can be quite...complicated. So, how exactly do you know the difference between an angry woman and a really emotional happy one?"
"You really can't. If that's the case, they're probably crying or yelling. Or both."
I huffed. "Fine, let me dig a little deeper into you and Nonna's history then. When did you guys first...I don't know...seal the deal? Make you guys into a thing? Have a ship name?"
"A ship name?" He scratched the side of his head. "What would we have needed a name of a form of transportation for?"
I cleared my throat. "Forget that then. But seriously, I'm curious."
"Well," he began, folding his arms in his lap and leaning back into his chair with a long sigh. "We met in her father's bakery when we were fifteen. I tried to kiss her a couple months after seeing her nearly everyday there. That went just great, since she slapped me on the cheek and then called me some things I probably shouldn't repeat. But finally, she couldn't resist my charm the next year, and we were a 'thing' since."
