2.6 | Forget Me Not ✓

-6 || gerbera jamesonii

A/N

You guys, I'm so excited for you to read my next project. It's something a lot of you have been waiting for, and I've already finished part i of it. It'll be released sometime in (maybe) July/August, so I hope you're ready for it.

But for the time being, here's one of my favourite chapters of FMN. Happy reading!

x Noelle

  

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– 6

g e r b e r a   j a m e s o n i i

For warmth.

(then: –6)

  

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

She knows that it's a pointless question, but it slips out of her mouth anyway. Of course, he's not alright. How could anyone be if they caught the person they've been dating since high school fucking around with someone else behind their back?

He's still exactly where she left him, sitting along the sidewalk with his head buried in his arms. Strains of the music from the party echoes down the street, but, thankfully, it's a little more quiet here. At the sound of her voice, he looks up; his eyes tracking her every move as she sets the grocery bag down. He reaches in and pulls out a can, then pops the lid and offers it to her.

"Thanks," she says, a little surprised. She's bought it for him, after all. She starts to sit down, only to falter when he holds out a hand to stop her.

Without saying a word, he shrugs off his football jacket and lays it on the ground beside him. He pats the empty space and reaches for a can of his own. She takes a seat; glancing at him from the corner of her eye. Right now, his mood is mercurial at best, and she's not sure if the littlest thing will set him off. For awhile, they drink in silence, and she watches him chug not one, not two, but three beers at an alarming pace.

Eventually, she hands him her own as well. "You know," she tells him, "a lot of first loves don't last. And relationships that began in high school rarely stand the rest of time. So you shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You gave it your best shot and, like many other high school relationships, it just didn't work out."

He takes a long swig of his beer, and lets out a deep sigh. "I'm not mad about that. I've known that our relationship was over the first time I caught her cheating on me. That was about nine months ago. I'm just disappointed in myself, that I wasted all this time staying with her."

Emma stares at him in surprise. "Why did you?" she can't help but ask.

"Obligation, I guess. Flo's always had a very hard life. Since high school, when her mum left her, she's always been on her own. She lives at my place and if I kicked her out, she'd have nowhere else to go. I've always felt sorry for her but..." he breaks off into a mirthless laugh. "Fuck, I also really hate her right now."

He's been flicking the lid on his can as he speaks, and Emma's a little worried that he'll cut his finger on it, so she reaches forward and stills his hand. She's taken by surprise when he intertwines his fingers with hers.

It's gentle, effortless, comfortable, and it feels like he's been doing it forever.

She blinks and pulls herself together. It's not a big deal, she tells herself, he just needs someone to comfort him. She gives his hand a small squeeze and says, "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry this happened to you. I might not know what you're feeling right now, but I do know what it's like to be in a relationship where the other person doesn't treasure you as much as they should."

He swallows hard and stares down at their interlocked fingers for a moment. When he looks back up, there's a fire in his eyes that hasn't been there before. And, suddenly, she knows with absolute certainty what he's about to do. She recognizes that look; it makes her breath catch in her throat, and her heart starts to pound in that familiar, yet unfamiliar way it's not done in a very, very long time. She can't look away, she's mesmerized, she wants to close her eyes. He leans forward with a steely determination, and his hand comes up to cup her face; his thumb brushing the curve of cheekbone.

But as his breath glosses her lips, her senses finally kick in.

"I-I don't—" she stutters, turning her face away.

In her peripheral, she notices him freeze. He immediately moves back, and snatches his hand away from hers. That guilty, haunted look on his face cuts straight to her heart. "Right, I'm so sorry—"

"No, don't be. It just seems like you're not thinking very clearly right now and..." she trails off, and lets out a slow breath. "More than anything, I don't want to be the choice you make when you're not sober. I don't want you to be the one you settle for just because you couldn't have her."

"You're not—" he stops and rakes a hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and sets his beer down, then turns to face her. "I'm not settling. But you're right, I'm also not sober, and it is too soon. I'm really sorry if I made things weird between us."

"You didn't," she hastens to assure him. "And it's not your fault. I don't...I don't have much of a choice myself, so it's not like anything could ever happen between us anyway."

There's a glint in his eye that suggests he knows more than what he lets on. But he doesn't react to that, save to nod. "That's okay. I'll wait." She starts to frown, confused by his words, but he only holds out his hand again. "Still friends?"

"Of course." She grasps his hand, and his grip is steady. Is she imagining it, or does his hand linger around hers? Does his gaze dart down to her lips for a moment?

But it's over in a flash. He picks up his beer, taking a long swig from it as if nothing out of the ordinary just happened. Still, the idea has already been planted in her mind, and she can't help but glance at him again.

What would it be like to kiss him? she wonders. Would he cup her cheek and tilt her head just so, or would his arms come around her to pull her flush against him? Would he kiss her hard, bruising, or soft and sweet? Would he breathe her name against her lips, or would he just breathe her in?

  

(she does find out, in time to come.

and she learns that it's all of that

and more.)