King of Harts

10

Adrian

I don't like him.

I don't like him at all.

Grayson is having a fucking ball with this guy and I don't like him.

He's too comfortable. Too close. Too close and too comfortable with Emory and her apartment and her snacks and where she keeps the mics for when they do karaoke.

Which I've discovered is something these two do often.

I know it's ridiculous of me to not like him considering I know that they're nothing more than friends. It took me all of 10 minutes of watching them interact to figure that one out but when it comes to Emory, it's nearly impossible not to be jealous. Envious of another man.

Especially when all of her dimpled smiles and laughs and giggles go to him.

It's fucking frustrating.

Emory and Alex are talking to Grayson about god knows what, I tuned out a while ago because I can't help myself. I don't care what the other two are talking about, I love just watching her and this is the only opportunity I could do it properly without being questioned.

Everyone's too drunk to notice.

When she's drunk, her cheeks get the brightest shade of red and she smiles all of the time. Her eyes are glossy but bright with joy as if she couldn't be happier with the company around her and the chance to unwind. She's a lot looser, confident and even though I enjoy her shy and anxious side, drunk Emory might be a new favorite of mine.

No artist in the world could capture the kind of beautiful Emory is. I'd like to see someone try.

It's fucking devastating honestly and what makes it all the more remarkable is she isn't even aware of it.

I'm sat in the armchair adjacent to the sofa where Emory is sitting next to Alex, way too close, and Grayson occupies the floor.

He prefers the floor when he's drunk.

I've been babysitting my drinks, wanting to make sure my best friend and the woman I'm obsessed with are alright.

I've engaged in the conversation when addressed, usually by Grayson, and try my best, for the sake of my best friend, to talk to Alex. Can't seem to get more than a few words out though.

Emory throws her head back with another laugh before she tips over just a bit and rests her body against Alex, who seems unfazed by it while he continues to chat it up with Grayson.

The sight makes my jaw tight and my grip on the warm beer I'm holding tightens like I could shatter it while I start twisting that middle ring on my other hand.

As if she remembered I was there, Emory's glossy eyes catch mine and that beautiful smile falters just a bit.

I watch the gears in her head begin to turn as if she were trying to decide what to do. As if she were debating on saying something to me.

Then, while Alex and Grayson continue to talk and pay her no mind, Emory lifts her hand, offers me one of those friendly, dimpled smiles and waves.