Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Emma was woken from a dream concerning smoke clogging her ceiling and the windows licked up by whispering flames by the thundering sound of knocks at her door. Her eyes flicked open and instead of immediately rising to answer, to see just who was rousing her at this hour, she stayed completely still, staring at an empty spot across the repurposed garage as if drilling holes into the wall. Her fingers flexed in the sheets. She swallowed thick.
The knocking turned into banging. "Get up, Em," called the voice just outside her door. "We were supposed to be out of here ten minutes ago."
She shut her eyes for just a moment more, pondering the idea of pretending she didn't hear him, before exhaling deep and finally pushing herself up from the mattress. As her socked feet hit the ground, she rubbed at the side of her face and glanced at the sketches and photographs hanging along her walls, tacked there with nails and pieces of flimsy tape beginning to peel away. A surge of guilt passed through her as her eyes stopped upon a picture of herself and a boy with brown hair and a wide-brimmed sheriff's hat that slouched over his forehead.
Sniffing quietly, she turned away and made for the door.
Leaning against the frame on the other side, already wrapped up against the prodding chill of winter, Judah fixed her with a tilted stare that pierced through her like shards of dull glass. "Good afternoon," he greeted, his tongue dripping with that coy smugness he kept masterfully hidden beneath that usually unflappable facade of his. His thick brows, like someone had smeared coal along his browbone, quirked in a way that made her stomach flip as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Heard you had quite the night."
Emma felt her blood freeze like lake water in her veins, stiffening her to the point that her jaw ached from clenching so damn hard. She felt herself swallow in an attempt to wet her suddenly dry throat. She'd been an idiot to think he wouldn't hear about it. Judah heard about everything, one way or another.
"Uhm," she said, tilting her gaze down to glance at their feet. Her toes wiggled beneath her thick knitted socks. He shuffled his weight between his pair of snow-packed boots. "Listen, I... I was - I was drunk, alright, and I didn't really know what I was doin'. It was just one kiss. It didn't mean nothin', and it only lasted for, like, a couple seconds..."
"Wait." Once more, Judah cocked his head like a bloodhound on the scent of his latest find. His chapped lips parted and he leaned a few inches closer into her space. "I was talking about the fight. You kissed someone?"
If she was cold before, Emma was freezing now. She was solid, like ice, destined to be rooted here in this spot of shame and guilt for the rest of time. She blinked. "...No."
He opened his mouth to retort, having known her for far too long now to know how to pry open her walls and get her to spill, when the clock tower from the center of town rang out a loud, hearty seven strikes. Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Emma shuffled back into her garage and began to shove her feet into her boots. "Don't worry about it," she told him as he watched her prepare for the cold. The quick glint of a steel knife being shoved into her back pocket caught their gazes, chilled from the freeze. "It's not a big deal."
