CHAPTER104
Why the hell am I so obsessed with this topic? I do not even want to know any of this.
He eyes me warily, a soft questioning smile on his lips showing those neat white teeth and devastating dimples, and I’m instantly distracted.
“I like your smile,” I say, alcohol very effectively removing my internal filter again.
“No, I don’t. And I like that you like my smile, shorty.” He stops and pushes me against the wall to steady me, pulls his buzzing cell from his pocket, checks who’s calling, swipes the screen and pushes it back from where he produced it. “I like when you laugh like that,” he says, glancing up at me, and it’s then I realize I’ve been giggling for no reason.
Where did that come from?
“Like what?” I ask innocently, still unable to stop grinning like a freak. Maybe it has something to do with the fact he has my body pressed to the wall with his, and he is every bit my idea of a good dream.
“Unguarded. I like drunk Emma.” He peels me back off the wall and leads me to my room, disappointment flitting through me that the moment was fleeting.
“I like drunk Emma, too,” I sigh, following him as he opens the door, his hand still encompassing mine. She gets to touch Jake in ways sober Emma doesn’t.
“I thought you said you didn’t?” He squints at me with a confused smirk, pulling me through to my bedroom.
“I was jealous; you like her way too much,” I exhale moodily, and he laughs at me again, only this time it’s deep and heartfelt, as though I’ve said the most hilarious thing. I pout at him, annoyed that he finds everything I say so funny.
“You’re the same Emma; no reason to be jealous, bambina.” He calms his laughing, pulls me to the foot of my bed, sits me down, and pulls my sandals off my feet easily. I like when he takes care of me like this, as though I’m something more to him than just his PA.
“Nooo, you like one more than the other,” I exclaim loudly. He smiles up at me and moves closer, so we’re nose to nose, with him bent down at my knees. His hand comes to my hair and ruffles it, toying with its new shortness.
He really is infatuated with my new haircut. Best idea ever!
“I like both versions of you, in different ways, equally,” he utters, keeping close. The room is dark, the only light from the moon shining in the porthole window beside us. It’s so intimate and romantic.
“What do you mean, ‘different ways’?” I’m inquisitive; being drunk seems to make me crave knowledge, and keep him this close. He sighs and runs a hand across my face lightly, moving my hair to tuck it behind my ear as a million tingles erupt across my skin. He chews his lip in that childish way he has when he’s trying to think out an answer before he speaks. He has no idea how much it makes me ache to bite his lip too.
“PA Emma is cool and capable, and she’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. She’s funny and sharp, and she’s good at what she does. I like PA Emma.” He nods to himself as though rattling off a check list. Finished with my shoes, he kneels up, so even though he’s still on the floor his head is towering over me.
“You like her in an employee-employer way?” I reach up and toy with his spiky hair; seeing that he keeps messing mine up, I think it should work both ways. He raises his eyebrows in surprise but only smiles and lets me continue.
“Yes and no. I just like her because she’s her.” His gaze comes to rest on mine, distracting me from his hair. It feels good and exactly how I thought it would feel.
“And drunk Emma?”
“I’m a little infatuated with drunk Emma, if I’m being honest.” He pulls my hand down and straightens up.
“You are? Why?” I sulk at both his answer and his removal of my fingers.
“Because she’s fun. She doesn’t guard what she says … or does.” He nods toward my fingers to prove the point. “She giggles and lets her hair down.”
“So do most of your leggy boobs!” I sulk at being compared to one of them.
Except am I not the one doing the comparing?
I’m confused.
“They’re not the same, not even close, bella. They don’t have any other side to them. That’s what I mean when I say I like both Emmas; one can’t exist without the other. I wouldn’t like there to be only one and not the other.”
“So, you like my split personality? A lover of the ‘cray-cray’,” I grin playfully, motioning circles at my temples and crossing my eyes. He chuckles and moves another hair from my face. It seems short hair equals messy hair that clings to your skin at every opportunity. Not that having him stroke it away is a bad thing; it’s a very, very good thing.
“It’s not split though; there’s glimpses of both versions all the time, just one chooses to dominate. I see drunk Emma sometimes in PA Emma when she occasionally relaxes too.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know how to relax all the time,” I confess with a conspiratorial wink, aiming for sass and failing.
“I think she’s scared,” he answers thoughtfully.
“Why?” I retort slightly shocked, watching him carefully; I want to know why he thinks this third person me is scared. I’m curious as to how he sees her, and why he believes that."
