Hold Me Down

Chapter 11

Alison spots Emily's clothes in a pile on the floor of her bathroom as she towels off her wet hair. After Spencer left, Alison had been in such a hurry to wash off the remnants of the previous night that she hadn't really thought about whose clothes she was shedding before she stepped under the hot stream of water. She had recognized the t-shirt and shorts while she was still in Emily's room but she still has so many questions regarding last night. Spencer had given her the abridged version of events during her lecture and she wasn't exactly proud of her choices, but she had been too nervous to ask who was responsible for getting her out of her own clothes and into Emily's.

Wearing Emily's slightly too big t-shirt had once been a comfort to Alison. In the past when she would sleep over the brunette's house she'd often intentionally forget to bring a pair of pajamas so she'd be forced to borrow Emily's. Back then Alison hadn't thought of it as romantic, it had just been safe and familiar. Like Emily. But now that too was sullied and what Alison can rationalize was probably an act of kindness, just feels like another violation.

After dressing in pair of leggins and a long sweater, Alison scoops up the offending garments from the bathroom floor and dumps them in the wash. She makes sure to answer Jason's "checking in" text message from earlier in the morning before climbing into bed and pulling the covers over her head, eager to shut out the world in favor of a few needed hours of sleep.

She sleeps for a while, maybe a bit too long, but she's still not at all happy to be woken up by the doorbell later that evening. Her head still hurts and she's still a little hung over and she swears if it's Spencer coming to lecture her some more, she's going to kill her.

But it's not Spencer standing on her front porch. Much to Alison's surprise, it's Emily, looking lost and afraid. She reminds Alison of a small child who lost her puppy on a walk and is too scared to go home and tell her parents the truth. Alison supposes that makes her the lost puppy in the equation.

Alison runs a hand through her messy bed hair and tries to clear the sleep from her throat. She hopes Emily didn't notice the hitch in her breath when she first opened the door. "What are you doing here?" she asks, crossing her arms across her chest defensively.

Emily rocks back on her heels and shoves her hands in her pockets, her eyes dancing between Alison and the ground. Alison notes Emily's tense body language and nervous ticks and she can't help but feel a little relieved by the brunette's obvious anxiety. She knows it's petty, and it's probably more "old her" than "new her" to take joy in someone else's discomfort, but why should she be the only one suffering.

"I need to talk to you. Can I come in?" Emily asks.

Alison thinks for a moment before deciding to step outside, forcing Emily to take several steps back. She pulls the door closed behind her and looks up at Emily defiantly. "We can talk out here."

"Ali, come on. You don't have to be afraid of me. Lets just go inside."

"I'm not afraid of you," Alison insists, although the jelly-like feeling in her legs says otherwise. "We talk out here or we don't talk at all," Alison declares, a hint of challenge to her voice.

It wasn't that she was afraid to be alone with Emily—well, maybe a little, but more than that she felt the need to assert herself. To get her way no matter how trivial the matter was. So if Emily wanted to talk inside, well then she sure as hell wasn't going to allow that.

"Fine. Out here it is," Emily agrees, turning and taking a seat on Alison's front porch

Alison watches Emily settle in on the top step, her small victory in venue choice feeling somewhat hollow. She feels Emily's eyes on her as she takes a seat on the step besides the brunette, the proximity between them not going unnoticed by either girl.