Secrets and Silhouettes

Emmet 101

Laughter escapes me, “Emmet 101?” I question.

“Yes, whatever you want to know, you have 15 minutes to ask me.”

“Challenge accepted.” I say.

“Emily?”

As Emmet's voice broke the silence, his words carried a weight that hung heavy in the air. "Wow, we start with the deep stuff," he began, his tone a mixture of vulnerability and resignation. "Emily and I shared a foster house together three years ago," he continued, his voice laced with sorrowful memories. "Our foster dad abused one of the other girls that was in the house. She committed suicide because the system failed her. They did not help her when she asked for it."

As he recounted the tragic events, his voice quivered with emotion, his eyes betraying the pain of reliving those memories. "So when I stumbled upon her and the letter she penned," he paused, his voice thick with emotion, "carefully, I captured an image of the note, preserving its contents." His words were weighted with a sense of duty and determination. "With a silent resolve, I returned it to its original position, concealing any evidence of my interference."

In that moment, the raw anguish in Emmet's voice echoed the depth of his sorrow and the gravity of the situation. "As I did so," he continued, his voice trembling with emotion, "a chilling realization emerged in me: her absence would undoubtedly draw his attention toward his next target, Emily."

His voice held a mixture of determination and sorrow. "So that night, when everybody was busy with funeral arrangements, I packed my bag and told Emily to do the same," he recalled, his words tinged with a sense of urgency. "By morning, we were gone."

He paused, reflecting on the challenges they faced as teenagers thrust into a world of uncertainty. "It took a few days, but I found a nice elderly couple who was willing to give us a roof over our heads and food for our bellies until I could secure a place for us to stay," he continued, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility.

"At that time, I was only 16," he explained, his tone tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "So I played waiter when there were shifts available, and not long after, I started to work at the MMA center." Emmet gestured toward his sculpted physique, a testament to the hard work and determination that defined his journey. "I cleaned the gym, bathrooms, and wherever they needed me to clean. And there, I was allowed to train."

His voice softened as he spoke of the sacrifices he made for his sister's education. "I could pay for everything Emily needed for school, so I enrolled her in school," he said with a touch of pride. "When I turned 18, I got a job working at a club. I wasn't allowed to drink, but I was allowed to wait tables," he explained, his voice tinged with sadness.

"My 'perfect' body helped me make good money," he admitted, a hint of bitterness in his tone. "Actually, no, I made a shitload of money. I did it for a year full-time," he confessed, his words heavy with the weight of his past. "I bought this house a few weeks ago."

Emmet's eyes held a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability as he listened to my words. "Sorry if that was more than what you asked for," he apologized softly.

"No, don't be," I replied, my voice catching with emotion. "I cannot even begin to comprehend what that was like. And I am sorry that you had to go through that. And alone at that."

Feeling a surge of empathy, I rose from my seat and moved to sit next to him, placing a comforting hand on his forearm. "You and Emily have me now," I assured him, my voice filled with sincerity. "I promise. I am not going anywhere."

As I rested my head on his shoulder, a sense of comfort washed over me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a deep connection with someone who understood the weight of my past and offered solace in the present.

"Next question," I declared, shifting the conversation away from the somber tone.

Emmet's expression shifted as he contemplated my inquiry. "Why did you freeze when I took off my shirt? I would have thought that is something you should be used to," I asked, genuinely curious.

His response carried a hint of vulnerability. "Except, every girl that took her shirt off in front of me did it in the hopes of getting something in return, and they have not always been decent girls like you," he admitted with a sigh. "I did not think you would do it and I would have given you the shirt if you said no. I am sorry if that was rude."

"It was the first time ever I took my shirt off in front of anybody. I haven’t even done it in front of my girlfriends," I confessed, a small smile forming on my lips. "I think you're pushing my boundaries, getting me out of my comfort zone. In a good way," I sighed, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "I mean, I am 17 after all, and the only virg—" I cut myself off abruptly, realizing I almost revealed too much.

“I think 15 minutes is over,” I say. “Thank you for telling me all of that, I can only imagine how difficult that was.”

“It was not as bad as I thought it would have been.” I said. “but I think because I trust you it is so much easier.”

“Can I ask you a question,” Emmet asks.

“After all that, I think you can ask me anything,” I say.

“Allen?” he smiled.

“Deep stuff hey.” I joke. “ We have been friends since kindergarten. And I asked him if he would pretend to be my boyfriend so that the guys in school would stay away. I wanted to focus on my grades, and I thought he was gay. Turns out I was mistaken. He is not.”

"Well, late yesterday he came to my house to tell me that he is in love with me and that he would

like to be my real boyfriend. He also tried to kiss me," I admitted, feeling a mix of discomfort and

disbelief at the confession.

"Never thought I would say that out loud. Anyway, I asked him for some space."

"Ouch," Emmet sympathized, his expression reflecting a blend of empathy and amusement.

"It's never a good thing if a girl asks for space. His loss is my gain." His smile was charming, casting a

magnetic pull that was hard to resist.

"Presumptuous, are we?" I teased, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism.

"You didn't ask me for space. In fact, you couldn't wait to let your fingers roam my body. Not

presumptuous, I'm stating a fact," he retorted with a mischievous grin.

"And you?" I countered, meeting his gaze squarely.

"What about me?" he questioned.

"How much restraint did it take not to let your fingers roam over my body when I changed my shirt just now?" my question hung in the air, laced with a hint of playful challenge.

"Althea, you can't ask questions like that if you're not ready for the consequences," Emmet cautioned, his tone firm but tinged with a hint of vulnerability.

He sat upright, his demeanor shifting from relaxed to more guarded. I could sense his apprehension, mirroring my own. Despite the uncertainty, I knew I had to take a chance, or I'd regret it later.

I approached him slowly, stopping just a foot away. Emmet's nervousness was palpable, matched by my own. "I've never done this before. Please be patient with me," I whispered, my voice tinged with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

Anticipation tingled through every nerve as I peeled off my shirt, exposing my skin to Emmet's gaze. Straddling him, I conveyed my intentions without words: this was about exploration, not crossing boundaries.

"What's fair is fair," I murmured, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of excitement in my chest. With a subtle motion, I encouraged him to follow suit, inviting him to partake in this bold venture.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his tone gentle and concerned.

"Like I said, first and second base only," I reassured him, meeting his gaze with a determined yet vulnerable expression.

His touch was gentle, his movements deliberate and measured as he traced his fingers along the curves of my hips. A gasp escaped my lips, a testament to the electric charge igniting between us with every brush of skin against skin. Each touch sent a jolt of energy coursing through me, leaving me breathless with anticipation.

As his hands traveled upwards, I felt a surge of longing as they reached my back, our eyes locking in a silent exchange of desire. With a gentle push, he drew me closer until our lips met in a tender kiss. Words failed to capture the overwhelming sensation that engulfed me, a soft moan escaping my lips as our connection deepened.

His hands continued their exploration, trailing up to my neck as he lifted my chin, intensifying the kiss with a newfound fervor. My own hands moved with urgency, eager to explore every inch of him. I felt a rush of desire as my fingers traced the contours of his biceps, his abs, his back, each touch igniting a fire within me as I surrendered to the intoxicating moment.

I began to stir, a soft groan escaping his lips as he lifted me effortlessly, our bodies pressing together as my legs wrapped around him. With a sense of urgency, he carried me across the room, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

As he gently placed me on the kitchen counter, his fingers entwined with my hair, sending shivers down my spine. My hands instinctively found their place on his firm, muscular ass, pulling him closer to me as we melded together in a passionate embrace.

The sensation was intoxicating, overwhelming in its intensity as we pressed against each other, lost in the heat of the moment. I never wanted it to end, craving the electric connection between us.

Reluctantly, he broke the kiss and stepped away, leaving me longing for more as he disappeared from view.