Saving Emery Clarke

S E T H · 1 6

E D I T E D : J U L Y  3 1 ,  2 0 1 7

•°•°•

"Guess who starts working here tomorrow?" I sing, walking up to Emery.

She turns around, narrowing her eyes. "You seriously got a job here, of all places?" She asks.

"Well that's where you are, isn't it?" I ask, grinning. I brush my hair off my forehead with my fingers.

Emery rolls her eyes and cracks a smile at me. "Cheesy."

"Like that pizza over there?"

Emery starts laughing. "I can't believe you just said that."

"Better believe it, babe," I say winking. "I even got you as my mentor for a week!"

"Lucky me," Emery says sarcastically.

"Yeah, lucky you," I tease.

Emery is wiping down a table that has pizza sauce on it and the sun is setting. I look at my watch. It's seven o'clock.

"My shifts almost over," she says, readjusting the cheese and red pepper shakers on the table. "I get off at seven fifteen."

I nod. "Okay. Cool."

Emery starts on the next table, unconsciously humming to the song playing in the background. I sit down at a table, resting my chin on my palm. I fix my eyes on Emery, watching her sway to the song.

She doesn't know she's beautiful. I mean, I think she is. Anyone would. Emery has a pretty face, sure, but it's more than that. She has a beautiful personality. She's strong and beautiful.

Too good for me.

I can't help but think that. Besides, it's not like she's probably even looking for a relationship right now anyways. Even if she was, why would she choose me of all people?

"Seth? Why are you looking at me like that?"

I snap my eyes away, sitting up straighter. I clear my throat and feel the heat creep up on my neck. "Uh, sorry. I just spaced out," I mumble.

Emery nods slowly. "Well, I'm going to put my apron away and grab my bag, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll, uh, get the truck started," I tell her, quickly leaving the pizzeria.

That wasn't embarrassing at all.

I sigh. I need to be more careful. I don't want her to think I'm a total creep. Then I wouldn't even have a sliver of a chance to be with her.

I don't even have a sliver of a chance now.

I really need to figure out how to turn off my brain.

•°•°•

"Seth, wake up."

I faintly hear a voice, but I can't process it or it's words. I grab the closest thing to me, and hug it to my chest as I snuggle back into my sheets.

The 'thing' I grabbed lets out a squeal, tensing up in my arms. I let it go, not even opening my eyes. I flip over onto my other side.

"Seth, wake up! We're going to be late!"

"Go away," I mumble sleepily. "Five more minutes, Mom."

"I am not your mother, Seth Finley!" The person says, smacking me with a pillow hard on my back. "Now get up!"

I yawn, rolling over onto my back. I open my eyes, finding Emery standing beside my bed dressed in jeans and a Coca-Cola t-shirt. "Morning, Em."

She rolls her eyes. "You are the heaviest sleeper ever, Seth."

I smile sleepily. "So I've been told. How long do I have?"

"About thirty minutes," Emery says, sitting on the edge of my bed. She tucks a strand of her silky brown hair back.

"You could've let me sleep like, ten more minutes," I tell her, sitting up. "But thanks for waking me up."

She hums in response. "I'm going to make some cereal. Want some?"

"Frosted Flakes, please," I say, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. "Thanks."

Emery smiles briefly, then leaves to make her breakfast. I shower and put on a t-shirt and jeans, then go downstairs to join her.

When I walk into the kitchen, she's clicking her tongue as she focuses on picking out a cereal. The Frosted Flakes are set out on the counter already, along with the milk carton and a couple bowls and spoons.

I could get used to seeing her every morning like this. Doing simple things, like picking out cereals. I could just see myself with her. Everywhere.

"The Frosted Flakes are my favorite, but the Cinnamon Toast Crunch is a close second. The Mini Wheats are disgusting though, I don't recommend those," I say, pouring myself a bowl of Frosted Flakes, then only a little milk.

Nice going, Seth. Maybe now you can talk to her about brands of milk!

I mentally smack myself for being so stupid. Now she's going to think I'm some kind of cereal-loving freak.

Emery smiles a little at me. "I'll take your word for it," she says, grabbing the Frosted Flakes.

"Good choice," I say, not thinking of anything better.

I'm so lame.

She and I quickly eat and as I start washing the bowls out she started speaking. "You were right."

"About what?" I ask, turning off the tap.

"The cereal. It was grrrrreat!" Emery says, chuckling at herself.

I laugh. "Are you making a pun, Emery Clarke?"

"I suppose I am," she muses.

I laugh again. Emery is special kind of different.

A good kind of different.

•°•°•