One Door Closes

Chapter 18

Regina's P. O. V.

"We've been basically living together for quite some time now." Emma's arm is hooked into mine as we walk down Main Street. It's a beautiful night. The sky is clear and sparkling with stars. For her sake, I'm glad she's not so incredibly nervous anymore, but it was slightly endearing. The food was very good, but - as cliche as that sounds - the company was far better. "And I really feel like I know you as a person."

I can tell Emma is heading somewhere with this, but I don't know where. She looks at me, while continuing our walk. "But I feel like I don't know any of the basics."

"Like what?"

"Like.. what's your favorite color?"

I laugh. She's right, though. I don't know any basic facts about Emma, I feel like we've immediately gone to the deep stuff. That's easier when you're both in the same messed up situation, like we were with Graham.

"Black," I reply and Emma's eyes widen.

"What? Of all the colors in the world?"

"Yes, I like it. What's wrong with it?"

"I thought the worst you could say was yellow, but I was wrong. Black? Why is black your favorite color?"

I shrug, slightly amused at her reaction. "I simply find it suits me."

Emma huffs. "That's not an argument. First off, you look exceptional in every color, black is no different than the rest. Second, beige clothes really flatter my skin, but I don't go saying that beige is my favorite color, because that would mean I have no soul."

She sounds adamant and I love how this is such a big deal to her. Frankly, I don't really have an opinion on favorite colors. I know which colors look good together and I have a preference for certain colors, but I have no opinion on other people's favorite colors. I haven't attached a certain personality or lack thereof to favorite colors.

I smile and pull her closer to my side. "I'm sorry, I know this is but a small thing, but it changes my entire view on you." She does have a flair for the dramatic, I have to give her that. "Okay, next, what's your favorite meal?"

She looks at me, suspiciously. I suppress another smile and ponder. I want to satisfy her with my next answer, but I don't know what she wants to hear, so I answer truthfully.

"Lasagne."

"Oh, thank God. At least that's an actual appropriate answer."

"What did you fear I was going to say?"

Emma shrugs. We walk past a broken street lamp and it's immediately so much darker around us. I hold her even tighter. I don't even know where we're going, but she makes me feel sure and secure.

"Cucumbers."

I laugh. "What? You don't like cucumber?"

Emma looks at me and stops walking. "Of course I do. You can't hate cucumbers, just like you can't love them. They just.. exist. They're nice in a salad, but if you'd tell me it was your favorite food I'd send you to a therapist. I'm one hundred percent convinced that someone whose favorite color is black and whose favorite food is cucumber has some complex and issues with self love and appreciation."

She's speaking such nonsense, but I love her for it. I cup her cheek and kiss her hard. There's no tenderness or gentleness, there's only passion, lust and the need for more.

Emma presses me against the broken street lamp. Her body is warm against mine. It's been a while since I last kissed someone and I only now realize how much I've missed this kind of intimacy. The fact that it's with Emma now makes everything much better.