Whiskey at Midnight, page 3
“Right, okay,” Wren says from under the covers.
The guilt the next day keeps Emma locked away in her apartment. By nightfall, she’s done all of her laundry, all of her homework, and all of her dishes. Despite her ongoing appetite issues, she walks to a nearby grocery store and buys fresh produce that she makes into a stew. She even manages a bath with candles and bubbles, the kind of thing she used to see her mother doing after a hard day, but it doesn’t really help. Her cheeks feel full of lead and her heart feels nonexistent, a phantom inside of her. She and Cam aren’t together, as Cam has helpfully pointed out, but it still feels like cheating.
She doesn’t try to contact Cam. Cam doesn’t try to reach her either, though there’s probably a suitable reason, like work. Emma goes on about her business, attending classes and going to work. The silence between Emma and Cam ends when Cam is sufficiently bored and wants to head to a karaoke bar. Emma dutifully gets ready, puts on makeup and jewelry, and gets there twenty minutes before Cam.
The bar is one that Emma isn’t familiar with. It is dark and the floor is sticky. The bartender has a glistening shaved head and looks her up and down while asking for ID. He stares at Emma while he pours her beer, as if she is some kind of criminal. Karaoke has been going on for an hour, according to a sign on the wall. The man standing up front singing, on a small wooden stage, is already wasted. He sways while he sings a song from the 1960s to his blushing wife. His bushy white eyebrows conceal his eyes.
Emma walks past the stage, past the tables already occupied. She’s the youngest person in the bar. Men in suits with baby faces and wedding bands that they twirl on their fingers, still getting used to the added weight, sit next to aging cowboys and professional women with stern faces. She finds a table far away from the action, under a light that has gone out, leaving her in relative darkness.
Cam arrives like a whirlwind. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes twinkling. She can’t seem to catch her breath and her greeting to Emma is breathy and quick. “Let me go get my drink,” she says and goes back the way she came in, dodging around tables full of clapping people.
“So, about my day…” Cam says when she returns, a lager in her hand. Emma listens.
It doesn’t take long for Cam to want shots. First she brings two red shots to the table. It tastes strong and Emma grimaces. Then she brings two that are bright blue and Emma is reminded of berries. When Cam’s eyes stop opening all the way, she leans toward Emma and kisses her. She misses Emma’s mouth by a centimeter and pulls back to do it all over again. The bar is crowded enough that no one will notice them in their secluded spot, exactly how Cam likes it. Cam’s kisses are hurried but soft, and a little hesitant. They are almost perfect.
When Cam pulls away to go get more drinks, her brown eyes are darker than normal, almost a little cold. Emma smiles at her anyway, a little too eagerly. “I’ll get the next round,” Emma says.
Upon Cam’s return, the alcohol seems to hit all at once. Her eyelids flutter closed and she places a hand on Emma’s thigh. “If you were a man, this would be so much easier,” she mutters. It’s not the first time she’s said as much to Emma, and Emma doesn’t answer her. Instead, Emma kisses her on the cheek. “If there was ever a girl I could be with, it’d be you, though,” Cam says.
Half a drink later, Cam has her hand up Emma’s shirt and is fondling her breast. She doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching. Emma does, out of habit. Everyone else is seated in front of them, and none of them look backward, toward the two girls who haven’t clapped for a single singer. Emma can hear the way Cam’s breathing quickens against her neck. It’s not the fairy tale romance Emma has hoped for, but it’s Cam and she’ll take it.
It’s when a drunk girl is up front singing one of the latest pop crazes, her skirt pulled up so that it almost shows her panties, that Cam’s eyes soften and Emma thinks she sees love in them. Cam kisses Emma’s neck. “You smell good,” Cam says against Emma’s skin. After a year of their little dance, it seems as if Cam is seeing Emma for the first time. So when Cam kisses her again, Emma lets her hand snake under Cam’s shirt to feel bare skin.
Cam’s lips pause immediately. She clears her throat and stands up. “I need to get home,” she says. “I have work tomorrow.” She scratches one of her elbows and looks at the side of Emma’s head instead of making eye contact. “I hate my boss, but I need the job so I can’t be late.” She leans down, bending at the waist, and gives Emma a quick peck on the lips and wanders over to the bar, through the people still enthralled with karaoke, to pay her tab.
Emma looks away, doesn’t watch her walk out the front door. She stares at the girl who has just finished singing, who hasn’t pulled her skirt down yet. A man is standing next to her, his tie hanging around his shoulders, clapping and hooting. The bar is suddenly stuffy and too crowded. Emma doesn’t notice the tears that spring to her eyes. A few fall down her cheeks as she finishes her drink. She pays her tab and heads out into the warm night. She shivers anyway. She starts walking, just follows the street lamps in front of her until she sees a street sign and realizes she’s only two blocks from Wren’s apartment.
Emma pulls out her cell phone and thumbs through to the name Wren Mathis. She hits the green button and waits. Wren doesn’t answer for three rings and when she does her voice is muffled.
“Wren?”
“Emma? What’s up?” Wren suddenly sounds awake. Over the line, Emma hears the sound of a lighter.
“I’m near your house.”
Wren exhales loudly, clicks her tongue. “Okay, come on over.”
Wren is already standing in the doorway when Emma gets to her apartment. She’s wearing only underwear and a black tanktop. Her hair is messy and falls down around her shoulders. She moves over to let Emma in and then closes the door.
“Your roommate?” Emma asks.
“Gone.”
Wren grabs hold of Emma’s hand and leads her to the bedroom. She shuts the door behind them. There’s a small lamp lighting the room on Wren’s desk and a candle lit next to it. The window is open on the other side of the room. Emma almost opens her mouth to say she’s not sure what she’s doing here, but Wren kisses her and the words die down inside. Wren pulls at Emma’s hair while they kiss so that Emma’s scalp begins to burn.
Wren bites Emma’s lip and all Emma knows in that moment is that Wren is the opposite of Cam, not her. Wren is hard and all skull and bones. Cam is sloppy but soft, the girl you might bring home to the family if she’s sober. Wren is precision. Wren is something to hide. It makes the tears start to come back, but then Wren is pulling Emma’s clothes off. Her mouth on one of Emma’s nipples and her fingers on the other chase the tears away so that the moan coming from Emma’s lips is the only thing that remains.
Wren likes to finger her. Sometimes she pumps two or three fingers inside, or circles around her clit, sometimes adds her thigh for extra pressure. It leaves her lips free to kiss and bite all over Emma. Through it all, Emma tries to hold on. She grabs hold of anything she can get her hands on. Sometimes it’s a pillow, sometimes Wren’s hair, sometimes she just touches the wall above her head. When she orgasms, it’s the only thing left in the world she can feel.
Emma isn’t the only person Wren is fucking. It’s been no secret that Wren has been fucking Steve Riggs for the last several months. His clutching at her wrist some nights when they’re all out is obvious enough, Emma thinks. When Emma mentions him, the big oaf, Wren just smirks. “It’s about having fun,” she tells Emma. Wren never mentions Steve herself.
Emma is out with Cam one night when they run into Wren and Steve. Emma pauses, not sure whether she wants to go over and say hello, not sure she can do it without being awkward. As much as she can’t stop going to Wren’s apartment, she knows what they’re doing is wrong. But Cam spots tiny Wren and Steve with his shaved head and walks over to them since the place is packed and there are two empty seats at their table. Right before she and Emma get there, Cam turns and looks at her, warning all over her face. After all this time, Emma knows exactly what she means. The look says to be cool. Don’t get handsy.
Emma’s never been on a farm, but Steve looks like he grew up on one, especially on this night. He’s wearing a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hands are huge and his skin never tans, just turns pink. He laughs loudly upon seeing them. Emma ducks her head in greeting. He’s twice as big as Wren and talks enough to make up for her silence. When he touches Wren on the arm, Emma flinches. Cam doesn’t notice.
There’s no karaoke tonight. It’s just a bored looking DJ who plays music a little too loudly. Drunk people are already dancing and knocking into the tables which have helpfully been pushed toward the walls. There’s never enough room for drunk people in these kinds of bars.
Within minutes, they’re all doing their own thing. Wren gets up without a word to go off somewhere. Cam plucks her phone out of her purse and checks it. “I have to go make a call,” she says. Steve grins at Emma like he’s just had the best idea in the world and puts an arm around her.
“Shot?” he asks.
Steve whispers what kind of shot he wants and smiles gleefully. Whatever he picked is downright disgusting and immediately after Emma tells him that she needs to use the restroom, anything to get away in case he gets another bright idea.
Wren is already standing by the bathroom door. She applies some eyeliner using the mirror outside the restrooms and sticks the small pencil into her front pocket when she’s finished. Emma stops a few feet away. Wren doesn’t make it easier for her, just turns and stares at her with that blank expression she has mastered.
“Does he know?” Emma asks.
Wren doesn’t react. It’s as if she has no idea who Emma is talking about. When Emma lets out a frustrated sigh, Wren shrugs. “Why would he?” she says.
She saunters past Emma, back down the hallway. Wren is already sitting at the table when Emma returns, the last to find their way back to the table. She fixes Emma with that blank stare again.
Cam has been ignoring Emma most of the night. She talks to Steve or says something to Wren that only gets a smile in response. If Cam hadn’t occasionally touched Emma’s knee under the table, Emma might think she’d become invisible. Steve never notices, but Emma catches Wren looking at her when it happens. Emma looks guiltily away.
“I’m going out for a cigarette,” Wren announces.
Cam doesn’t smoke, doesn’t acknowledge that Wren has spoken. She’s too busy talking to Steve about sexual assault on college campuses, citing statistics off the top of her head. Steve, for once, looks unsure as to whether he’s allowed to make a joke.
Emma gets up and follows Wren.
Wren is standing in a dark area where a light has gone out, away from all the other smokers. Emma almost misses her when she walks outside, but spots her smoking and pulling at her long necklace. Wren exhales a cloud of smoke as Emma approaches. Wren’s wearing a long black tanktop that could almost be a dress. Even in the dim light, the hollow of her collarbone is obvious. Wren watches Emma and takes another drag of her cigarette. Emma doesn’t smoke, but she takes the cigarette from Wren anyway and brings it to her lips. She doesn’t cough. She doesn’t even hate the burning in her lungs. Emma gives the cigarette back.
They’re probably comical standing next to each other, Emma thinks. Emma wears a skirt, tights, and a bright yellow shirt. Her entire appearance screams good girl. Wren’s jeans have holes in them. Her shoes look like they’re one step from falling apart. If Wren wasn’t looking at Emma so steadily, she might look like she’s falling apart as much as her clothes are.
That’s what does it. Emma lurches forward and kisses Wren. It’s so quick that Wren falls back into the brick building behind her, but she wraps the arm not holding the cigarette around Emma and pulls her closer. Wren flicks her tongue into Emma’s mouth and for once Emma doesn’t care that just that one move causes her panties to become soaked.
Emma pushes them around the corner of the building, still keeping Wren up against the bricks. She runs her hands under Wren’s tanktop and feels every rib on her way to Wren’s tits. She groans when her hands don’t feel a bra under the shirt. Emma bites Wren’s lip hard enough to make Wren moan. She pulls Wren’s hips toward her and unbuttons Wren’s jeans. Sex in an alley, in public, even though no one is going to see them where they are, is not Emma’s style. It’s certainly not the kind of thing she’d ever think of herself wanting to do. But when she sticks her hand into Wren’s pants and feels wetness, she doesn’t care, just lets her fingers keep touching and kisses Wren more.
She backs up a step, keeping her hand in Wren’s pants, to watch Wren’s face in the darkened alley. Nervous laughter bubbles up in her chest. Wren looks at her for a moment, grinds her hips down onto Emma’s fingers, and pulls her close again to kiss. Wren’s lips are confident moving against Emma’s and she wraps one leg around Emma for a better angle.
Wren cums hard. She bites her lip to keep from making too much noise. Emma eases her hand out of Wren’s pants once Wren begins to recover, but then Wren grabs the hand in question and licks the fingers. She smirks as Emma gasps. She releases Emma’s hand and buttons her jeans again. “Ah,” she says. She grabs her lighter and relights the cigarette she’s been holding. Wren winks. “Nothing better than a cigarette after an orgasm.”
Emma has a dazed expression on her face. It turns into pure confusion when Wren pulls her close to kiss her again. “I better go in. Before they wonder. Get cleaned up and all that,” Emma says absently, holding up the hand Wren has just licked.
The floor of the bathroom is wet. The mirror is streaked and a pair of lips have kissed one corner of it. Emma washes her hands and quickly leaves the room, almost bumping into a random person on her way out.
Cam and Steve are still talking when she returns. Cam looks at her when she sits down but asks no questions. Cam doesn’t seem to notice how long it’s been. Wren slides back into her own seat soon after and drinks from her warm beer. She makes a face at it when she tastes it. She doesn’t smirk at Emma or do anything to remind Emma of what they’ve just done. Emma blushes, kind of wishes she would, and spends her time looking between Wren and Cam.
Emma doesn’t go home with Wren that night. Cam kisses her on the cheek as Steve and Wren are walking ahead of them in the parking lot. The kiss is fleeting and so quick that Emma isn’t sure Cam actually makes contact with her skin.
“I’ve had a good time,” Cam says.
Emma goes home alone and dreams of Wren and Cam laughing at her.
Emma thinks of social justice while she stocks at work. Stocking the shelves is one of the more boring tasks she has to do. Ed has stopped looking at her with that half-confused expression on his face, at least. By the time she’s moved from fabrics to ceramic figurines, her mind has wandered from the plight of women around the world, one of Cam’s favorite topics, to blue eyes and long tanktops and jeans with holes in them. She’s still thinking of them when she feels a tap on her shoulder and drops what she’s holding, a little boy with angel wings, which breaks on the floor.
“Shit,” Emma mutters. She flinches upon saying it and looks to see who has tapped her on the shoulder. It’s Cam, which means she won’t be fired. There’s no one else in the aisle to have overheard. But it also means Cam has interrupted her thoughts of Wren. Emma has never felt more like a piece of shit than right now.
Cam is wearing khakis and a dress shirt and the most nervous smile Emma has ever seen. She clears her throat and pushes her dark hair out of her face. “Hey, I know you’re working but I was passing by and thought…” She messes with her hair again and frowns.
“Thought what?” Emma asks.
Cam smiles brightly. “What about another shot at a date?”
Emma watches her warily for a moment, but the smile doesn’t waver. Cam, in this moment, oozes confidence. Emma returns the smile. The boy with angel wings be damned. Wren be damned. She nods her head. “Perfect.”
Chapter Two
There’s a lot that Wren should say that she doesn’t. It’s been since her freshman year of high school that she told her mother that she loved her, even longer since she’s told her father. Or maybe she should mention to Steve that she’s fucking Emma. He probably already knows, but it’s the right thing to do. She hasn’t even told Emma that she likes spending time with her, even though Emma is mostly moping around these days. But really, she probably won’t say any of it.
There are too many beer cans in the apartment. Steve had made it sound like a good idea last night, to have an impromptu drinking session at Wren’s since her roommate wasn’t there. He invited some of their co-workers and Wren sat there quietly in her own home, watching people she rarely speaks to acting as if they owned the place. But now it’s morning and everyone else is gone.
Wren shuffles around the living room in her underwear with a trash bag and picks up every beer can. She almost forgets to dump the ashtray. She hides it behind the couch after. Next up is air freshener to make the living room smell like she doesn’t just drink and smoke in there.
She hangs up the giant picture of Jesus that Trudy’s parents had gifted them when they moved in. It goes right above the couch. Perfect placement to rip it back off again when they leave. She can slip it back behind the couch when she pulls the ashtray out.
The kitchen doesn’t look so bad. The tea kettle is always sitting at the back of the stove. The coffee pot could use a wash, but Trudy’s parents won’t notice so she ignores it. There are only a few beer cans to be thrown away in there. If Trudy’s parents ever stayed long enough to look into the fridge, she might have to clean it out too. They never do anyway.
Wren drinks a glass of water before heading to her bathroom for a shower. She hasn’t fucked Emma in the shower yet, a nice idea for later. Emma might be ignoring her. She hasn’t text her in a few days, but Wren hasn’t put forth the effort to contact Emma either. If she is ignoring Wren, there’s only one reason why. The initial freak-out period is over. The time that Emma would be trying to classify what they’re doing, not wanting to admit she’s fucking a girl just to do it. There might be a round two of that sort of confusion, but not now. No, if Emma is avoiding her it’s something to do with Cam. Wren rolls her eyes.
