Emerson Castell loves facts.
Enjoying the how and why of everything, she never fails to let her obsession seep into every aspect of her life, including her relationships - or lack thereof.
Leo Caruso is no stranger to a busy social life, but after...
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In reality, there's no such thing as time moving by too quickly or too slowly.
Time as we know it is twenty-four hours a day, sixty minutes in an hour, and sixty seconds in a minute.
But if I were a conspiracy theorist, I would have believed that time wasn't fixed and could move very, very slowly in certain moments.
"Leo, I am so sorry, that was a completely wrong reaction," I blurted out, shaking my head. "I don't know where my hand came from! I'm not a violent person, I swear. Are you okay? I didn't do any damage to your perfect face, right?" I had no idea where all this came from but it certainly didn't originate in rational Emerson. This version was uncollected and embarrassingly honest, which brought that unwanted blush to my face.
Leo's hand that hadn't parted from his cheek fell to his side and he looked at me. I had always imagined boys with blue or green eyes would have had the most intense stare, the cool tones of their eyes an alluring magnet. But Leo had deep brown eyes, ones that reminded me of a strong coffee, intimidating yet undeniably addictive.
Until he blinked could I look away.
"Emerson," he said, his tone grave. My lips parted and I was prepared for the reaction he had yet to give me. I winced, but he then finished with, "I'm not mad." He rubbed his cheek again, tilting his head to the side and staring at me again. And there it was. A growing smirk on his gorgeous face.
"You're not?" I replied, raising a brow. I could think of a hundred reasons why he could be, with two a monkey could probably figure out.
One, I had just slapped him.
"Well maybe my perfect face is slightly," he said, repeating my words. I sunk deeper into the hole termed Em's Pride and Dignity. "But I'll be fine. It was probably a bad idea to bring kissing into this so soon."
I pursed my lips and nodded. "Well, I did warn you earlier."
"The warning didn't include you had a slap reflex."
"Glad to know what I can add in the second edition," I answered, giving him a fake smile. "Let's think of it one way."
"And that is?"
"If we somehow get married when we're older and have kids, and they ask us about the story of our first kiss, we can tell them their mom was a badass."
"You're the badass?" he retorted, pointing an accusing finger. He pointed it to his chest and tapped it a couple times. "I got slapped."
I rolled my eyes. "There will be no slapping when the real time happens, okay?"
"When?" He raised a suggestive eyebrow.
I let out a huff and placed my hands on the top of the couch behind us so I could lean into his face. God, those lips looked so soft and kissable this close to my eyes; I almost wanted to break my own rule.
