Page 104 of Emerson

Subject: the missing kiss

Yeah. Kinda rude not to kiss me that night. Also kind of rude for you to send me little millennial hearts when there are still four days between us. The only correct apology would be to schedule in a thorough make-up sesh when you get home. I'll bring the lingerie and you bring your

“Oh, my God. What is actually wrong with me?”

I delete that email, too.

It's one o'clock in the morning. I've been spiraling since I got his last email, obviously. It's just late enough that the sun has taken away my stubbornness, and all that's left is my want.

That's how I find myself angrily swiping out of the email thread all together and opening my contact list. My breath hitches in my chest when I hover over the unblock button.

As soon as it's pressed, though, I can't get the call to go through fast enough.

He answers on the second ring.

“Emerson?” Groggy, deep voice. “You okay? What's wrong?”

“Oh, hey. Uh.” I sit up in bed, looking around the room for some plausible reason to be calling him in the middle of the fucking night. “Uh. Remember that thing you told me I needed to use on the, uh, drain? To catch my hair?”

I hear blankets rustle on the other end of the phone, and my entire body aches just thinking about him warm and cozy in bed.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, I didn't do that. So, like, can you explain how to use that hair snake thingy?”

What the fuck, Emery? That's the best you can do?

I cringe, bringing my thumb nail to my teeth. My drain is fine. I am not. Especially when his rumbled, sleep-soaked laugh travels through the cosmos or however the fuck phones work and implants itself into my brain.

My skin tingles. My stomach swoops, and I grip the phone with enough force my fingers ache.

“You hold the end and feed it into the drain. Move it in and out a few times, then pull it out.”

Every bit of air rushes out of me, and I look around like there could potentially be someone here to witness how red I am right now.

“In and out, you say?”

He pauses. I pause. We all fucking pause.

“Emerson, are you in bed right now?”

“’Course not. I'm gonna snake this drain so good. Keep talking.”

He makes a noise, then clears his throat. “Sometimes, you have to put it back in. Get it as deep as it will go, slide it around.”

I cover my mouth, not sure if I want to choke out a laugh or moan. Either way, I do not trust my mouth to open.

“Then, when you pull it out, it should be wide open. Wanna know why?”

“Uh-huh…”

“Because a big, massive, slimy glob of your hair should come right out of the drain with it.”

Just like that, the sexy image is dead. Killed by slimy hair globs and his teasing laughter.

I flop back on the bed and groan. “You were doing so well.”

He makes a low rumbling noise. “Emerson.”