Chapter 4
1113 Words
Brody walked back to his car, the driver still waiting exactly where he’d left him. The city lights blurred past as he slid into the back seat, the door closing with a quiet thud. For the first time that night, the silence pressed in—and he couldn’t stand it.
He didn’t wait.
He pulled out his phone and typed quickly.
Brody: Hi. Just wanted to make sure you text me when you get home so I know you got there safely.
Almost immediately, three dots appeared.
His mouth curved into a smile before the message even came through.
Emily: Hey handsome Brody.
Another buzz followed.
Emily: Hey there, sexy.
Brody let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as warmth spread through his chest. He leaned back against the seat, phone resting in his hand, waiting. Minutes passed. No follow‑up. No “I’m home.”
His brow furrowed just slightly.
He typed again.
Before he could even lock the screen, his phone rang.
Emily.
He answered without hesitation. “Hey.”
Her voice came through soft and playful. “Hey, Mr. Sexy. Miss me already?”
Brody smiled so wide it almost hurt. “I just wanted to make sure you got home.”
“Well,” she said, stretching the word, “I’m home… and all alone.”
The words lingered in the air between them.
Brody exhaled slowly, grounding himself. “Good,” he said gently. “Goodnight, beautiful. I hope I get to speak with you in the morning.”
There was a yawn on the other end of the line, unguarded and sweet.
“’Night, Brody,” Emily murmured, her voice already drifting. “Talk tomorrow.”
The call ended.
Brody stared at his phone for a long moment before lowering it, the smile still firmly in place. As the car pulled away from the curb, one thought echoed through his mind—
Tonight was only the beginning.
And he already wanted more.
By the time he arrived home, the city lights fading behind him, Emily was still everywhere in his thoughts. The quiet of the house only made it worse. He loosened his tie, set his keys down, and stood there for a moment, exhaling as if he could release the feeling curling in his chest.
He was already head over heels—and that realization both unsettled and thrilled him.
He replayed the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes softened when she smiled, the warmth of her hand in his. It had been effortless. Natural. Not forced or calculated like so many connections in his life. With Emily, he hadn’t needed to impress—he’d just wanted to be.
Brody moved through his space restlessly, unable to sit still. His mind drifted to images he hadn’t planned but couldn’t stop: Emily seeing places she’d never been, her face lit by wonder instead of office fluorescents; her laughter echoing somewhere beautiful and far away. He imagined spoiling her not with extravagance for its own sake, but with experiences—quiet luxury, thoughtful moments, the kind of care that said I see you.
He wanted to give her the world.
And more than that, he wanted to be the one beside her when she saw it.
Brody leaned against the window, looking out at the night sky, his reflection staring back at him—calm on the surface, irrevocably changed beneath it.
Whatever this was with Emily, it wasn’t fleeting.
It was already beginning to shape him.
And he knew, with absolute certainty, that walking away was not be an option.
The next Emily woke with a soft groan, one hand immediately going to her head. Sunlight filtered through the curtains far too brightly, as if the morning had no respect for how late she’d gone to bed. She rolled onto her side, blinking slowly, trying to piece together why her body felt heavy and her thoughts fuzzy.
“Ugh,” she muttered.
Her phone vibrated against the nightstand.
She squinted at the screen.
Lola: Omg girl… how much did we drink??
Emily snorted despite herself, a small laugh escaping before she could stop it. Her head protested the movement, but the message grounded her.
Emily: Too much. My head is definitely filing a complaint.
She pushed herself upright and shuffled toward the bathroom, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror along the way—mascara faintly smudged, hair still smelling like last night’s bar air and perfume. She winced.
In the bathroom, she turned on the light and leaned over the sink, bracing herself as fragments of the night before began to surface. Laughter. Music. Lola dancing in her seat. Janet spilling half her drink and insisting it “didn’t count.”
And then—
Her stomach flipped.
Brody.
The bar. The way he looked at her. The kiss at the corner of her lips.
Emily froze, gripping the edge of the counter.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Heart suddenly racing, she rinsed her face and reached for her phone, thumb hovering as if it might bite her. She unlocked it and immediately went to her photos, scrolling quickly.
Blurry group shots. Lola mid‑laugh. Eric making a ridiculous face. A picture of their drinks lined up on the table.
No pictures of him.
Part of her felt relieved. Another part—unexpectedly—felt disappointed.
Then she backed out of photos.
And saw the messages.
Her breath caught.
Brody’s name sat there far too casually for how much it made her stomach twist. She opened the thread, eyes flying over the words she’d sent the night before.
Hey handsome Brody.
Hey there, sexy.
Emily covered her face with her free hand.
“No. No, no, no,” she groaned, sinking onto the edge of the tub.
She peeked through her fingers again, rereading the conversation, half‑expecting it to look worse in the sober light of morning. But it didn’t. It was playful. Flirty. Bold—but not messy.
And his messages back…
Her embarrassment softened into something warmer.
She scrolled to the call log. The memory of his voice came back to her then—low, steady, gentle when he told her goodnight. Not annoyed. Not distant.
She exhaled slowly.
Okay, she thought. So maybe last night hadn’t been a disaster.
Still curled on the bathroom floor, Emily leaned her head back against the cabinet and stared at the ceiling, smiling despite herself.
Whatever happened next—
She knew one thing for certain.
She was absolutely going to hear from Brody again.
And the thought made her pulse quicken, even through the headache.
- Writer
