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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I hadn't seen Santiago in a couple of days.
We were the kind of people who didn't have to be in each other's faces every living moment to maintain our friendship, but I began to wonder when he didn't show up to school two days in a row if something was wrong.
He hadn't answered my texts or even phone calls either, which wasn't the rarest thing, but still, I was growing concerned.
It dawned upon me then I really had no other way of contacting him other than by my phone. I'd never been to his house, neither had I ever heard him talk about his family other than mildly alluding to an aversion to his father. He had always dodged the topic of it one way or the other. There was something he was refraining from telling me, but my only question was how bad was it? And had he told anyone?
"Hey, is something wrong?" Emerson came up from behind me in the library, draping her arms over my shoulders. She brought her face closer to mine, until I could see it through my peripheral vision. She grinned, her lips widening, and a trace of a dimple formed in her left cheek.
"Not with me, babe," I began, tapping her shoulder so she'd sit next to me. I sat at a table in the far corner, concealed by shelves of encyclopedias where Emerson would surely feel at home. I wasn't the hugest fan of libraries. The smell of old paper was nauseating, but there was no other quiet place I could find to study for the English test I had next period.
I had opened Wuthering Heights only twice since it was first assigned a month ago. It wasn't my fault I wasn't in the mood of reading about a guy who actually had the grave of his dead lover dug up.
"Then what is it?" she asked, eyeing the book in my hands. She chuckled, as obviously she expected I'd have procrastinated this horribly.
"It's just my friend Santiago." I slammed the book closed and let out a long sigh. "I haven't heard from him in days."
"Did you try calling him?"
I nodded. "A couple times, at least. I'm just worried for him, to be honest."
"Are you thinking family problems?" She had read my mind, but maybe my speculations weren't that innovative to start with. "Try calling him again after you finish. I think that's the best you can do."
I nodded again, darting my eyes back to the book and papers in front of me. There was nothing compelling me to finish reading, especially when I could think of a million better things to do. One that involved the girl sitting in front of me...
"Hey, Emerson," I began, trying to hide a smirk. "is anyone over there behind you?" She seemed confused at first by my request but turned her to the side to check. As she did, I grasped her face and brought her mouth to mine. Maybe I wasn't the only one in the mood of this, as her hands threaded through my hair and she lessened the distance between us by leaning forward. We moved quickly and passionately, all the procrastination from this English assignment coming out in the productivity of this kiss.
