In Your Dreams

51 || Phoebe Summers

"Do we really have to go with this?" I ask, practically jogging to keep up with Emmett's hurried pace. Honestly, I'm not even sure this counts as walking anymore; we're practically running. I'm surprise I can still feel my legs during this. I'll be more surprised if I even have legs by the end of this. "Can't we make some last-minute changes?" I glance at him, hoping for some kind of reassurance, but his panicked expression mirrors my own.

Seeing his panicked expression never meant to be a good one. Lately I've been able to read Emmett more properly, and whenever he feels panicked, it's when I also feel panicking. It's like we're sharing the same thoughts and made us feel the same emotions at the same time. And frankly, right now, it's reasonable for either of us be to panicked.

It's presentation day for our ethics class-a day we've been preparing for weeks. Well, we may had crammed it up a day or two until the deadline is a day short. Luckily we've finished it up with enough time and now here we are, rushing through the halls because we completely lost track of time in the rehearsal room. I'd even skipped my morning classes to put the finishing touches on our project and even try to practice the flow of our presentation-I'm sorry-the quiz bee presentation, with Emmett.

Now, fifteen minutes late, my phone and his phone is flooded with missed calls from Alecks and Hanz, who's probably losing their minds. Alecks had already warned us that the professor is waiting, and we're holding up the entire class. Of course, we were too focused to even notice our phones buzzing. Okay, maybe we did place the phone on the coffee table and be at least a feet away from them where we wouldn't be able to hear if someone was calling us.

"Once Alecks makes up his mind, there's no changing it," Emmett says, offering me a strained smile before breaking into a jog. "Come on, we're already-" He pauses to glance at his phone. His face falls. "We're already thirty minutes late."

"Wait, what?" I slow down, trying to catch my breath. Okay, we're definitely running now-no wonder I feel like I'm dying. Maybe it's just my short legs, but I can't keep up. "How did we lose another fifteen minutes just running here?" I wheeze.

Emmett shrugs, an amused grin tugging at his lips. "This isn't the time to contemplate the concept of time, Phoebe. We're late." And to my utter surprise-and the horror of my ancestors-he grabs my arm and starts pulling me along.

Despite my struggle to match his pace, he doesn't let go of my arm, practically dragging me through the hallways. His grip is firm but not rough, and I can't help but glance down at where his hand holds mine. Time seems to slow. I thought I'd buried these ridiculous feelings for him weeks ago, but they're bubbling back to the surface. Dreams about him certainly haven't helped. Shaking my head, I focus on running. Feelings can wait-being late cannot. Actually no, feelings aren't able to wait. They don't need to wait because they're not invited.

When we finally reach the classroom door, we both collapse against the wall, panting. Emmett recovers in seconds, standing upright as if the last five minutes hadn't happened. Meanwhile, I'm doubled over, hands on my knees, struggling to breathe.

"You never told me you had asthma," he remarks casually.

I shoot him a glare and flip him off without even looking up. "I don't have asthma, asshole," I snap between breaths. "I just... don't run... ever."

Emmett raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Never jogged before?"

I straighten up slowly, stretching my back and neck while glaring at him. "Nope. Never had the time or the desire. And no, Emmett, before you even think about it-I'm not planning to start jogging anytime soon." I jab a finger at him, preemptively shutting down whatever idea he's cooking up. I've had this conversation with JD before, and it always ends the same-with a suggestion to go jogging together the next day.