The Fence || h. s.

4 || Put A Price On Emotion

Warning: mature content

"Emil, you're a saint," Sally gushes for the umpteenth time that evening. "I've wanted to see him live for ages. He sure sounds like an angel! Did y'all catch his high notes while he performed 'Attention'? God, I absolutely adore that man." 

"He's very talented," I nod along, although truthfully my head was lost in the clouds for the majority of the concert. "Thank you for bringing us here," I add to Emil, since it feels like the right thing to say at the moment. After all, he's gone out of his way to acquire those tickets, pulling a lot of strings just to get us in. 

"Not a problem. Anything for you," his grin is wide with all the boyish charm any girl would fall for. I nudge his shoulder playfully in response. I must admit, he's the cute kind of flirt: one that makes you eager to entertain his banter instead of telling him off. 

And so, I do just that. "For me only? What about Sal?" I tease with a cocked eyebrow, making the blonde next to me guffaw knowingly. 

"Uhm, I mean, obviously for you both," he corrects sheepishly, clearly having lost some of his bravado. "It was my pleasure. I went to some great shows this summer, and I must say, this was definitely on par with the likes of Justin Timberlake, U2, Pink, Harry Styles...." 

I tune out his voice as he lists out all the massive shows at the Forum he'd gone to in the last few months. Unfortunately, and unwillingly, my mind is once again flooded with the thoughts of Asa and our impending phone call this evening. After having avoided him for the entire week—feigning nonexistent work assignments or last-minute events—this may literally be my last chance to make amends. 

The worst part of it all? I know I've got issues. There must be something seriously wrong with me, because a person in their right mind wouldn't be avoiding their best friend just because of something that went down months ago; especially since the aforementioned best friend has long gotten over the thing that caused our fallout in the first place. 

My internal musings are interrupted when I hear a low curse fall from Emil's mouth, and soon he's throwing a black hoodie over his head, shielding it from the prying eyes of someone behind him. "Shit, shit, shit....he wasn't supposed to be here today." 

My eyes are on him as I ask, "Who is it?" 

"My dad," he rushes out, "I thought he was spending the evening walking around his fucking gallery with the Victim Number Three." That would be one of his father's unnamed conquests. 

"So what? It's not a crime that you're here, right?" Sally implores just as Emil's hand finds mine, my fingers instinctively clutching his clammy palm tighter. 

"I told him I needed the tickets for someone else. He thinks I waste too much time going out instead of focusing on my coursework." My mouth parts to coyly agree with his father's opinion, because yes—Emil is one of the laziest people I know, and that's saying something, coming from an unemployed girl who hasn't done anything work-related in more than a year and spends her free time taking care of her neighbour's impressive assembly of cats. 

However, all it takes is Emil's lips pressing to mine to effectively shut me up. For a short moment there is nothing but silence on my part, mostly because this isn't something I'm used to: kissing him out in the open. Kissing him reasons for other than fooling around in the privacy of my house. Kissing him just because we both feel like it. 

My eyebrows are raised in an expression of a stunned surprise when he finally parts from me, and to his defense, he seems to be just as thrown off by this development as I am. "Is he gone?" The fog surrounding my mind is lifted by his words, prompting me to glance behind his shoulder at his father's retreating figure.