18
Judge
More than a little hungover, Emma and I ride back to town. She clings to my chest even harder than usual. I think it has something to do with what I said last night. In the cold dim light of an autumn morning, I still mean it. I meant every word. Nothing has changed. But as we enter Rocky Cove, I know that I’ll have to put that to one side for now. I have to deal with Patrick, find out what went down.
I stop outside of Emma’s apartment. She climbs from the bike, and then stands uncertainly, stubbing her foot on the pavement. I turn to her, tilt my head. “Kiss, pretty lady?”
She smiles, leans in, pecks me on the lips. That’s what she needs, I think. To know that everything is normal. To know that everything makes sense. To know that we’re still close.
“I’ll see you later?” Emm
