Stuck » h.s. (UNDER EDITING)

sixteen

EMMA'S POV:

That dinner with Harry almost made me feel like I could have a normal life. Harry and I could settle our differences, become something, and happily read books forever. But that isn't possible. I have someone trying to murder; therefore, I can never be normal.

I check my email over and over, waiting for my book agent to send me a reply. I've just sent in my finished and edited copy of my book to her and she has to review it before we send it to a publisher. It will be going to my work, but someone else will review it if it gets past the first cut. I wrote it during the two years I was in England and have been tweaking and editing it ever since.

It's a story about a girl who lost her way, moved to a new place, and remade herself while also finding love. Yes, personal experience involved. I fell in love with England, but the guy didn't save me. In the book, the boy helps her become who she was before she went on a down spiral.

My body is begging me to just go to bed, but my brain is begging me to read that letter Shawn gave me. It sits on my little desk, almost identical to Harry's, and while my fingers rest on the keys of my MacBook Pro, I get even more anxious to read it. I know I should wait until tomorrow.

Angry, I stand up and yank the letter from its place, shoving it into a drawer in my desk. I'll get it in the morning and take it to work with me, that way I won't be able to hyperventilate and freak out. Well, I still could, but my body wouldn't allow me to since I would be at my new job. My first actual day there.

I shut the lights off and climb into bed.

HARRY'S POV:

Emma, oh my God, Emma. My heart won't stop thumping in my chest at the thought of her. It took everything in me not to just carry her to my room and beg her to stay the night with me. I know I can't force things on her, but she makes it so damn difficult to restrain myself.

I wasn't planning on kissing her at all tonight, but the way she looked at me, I just couldn't help it.

Tomorrow cannot come fast enough. I want nothing more than to have her ten feet away from me where I have a million excuses just to walk over to her office to see her. She isn't hot. Well, I mean, yeah she's hot and sexy as hell, but she's more beautiful and stunning than anything. Normally, I just see girls and think of sex, but with Emma, I think of a relationship which is something I never thought I'd hear myself say.

Guess there's a first time for everything though.

My whole body is pulsing and my mind is racing. I just want to run my fingers along her smooth skin while she's snuggled into my bare chest. And I want to press my lips to the skin on her shoulders and neck and tell her just how beautiful she really is. I want to make her feel special because she is. God, I don't ever feel this way about girls. Ever. And I mean, shit, I've known this girl for a month and a half.

It has been the most frustrating month and a half of my life. In every way possible.

****

Tuesday morning rolls around and I'm sitting in my office, tapping my pen against my desk and waiting to hear her heels click down the hall. Maybe she'll be wearing flats today? And a dress? Or maybe another one of those skirts?

My heart beats rapidly when her office door clicks shut. She'll have to come in here sooner than later to receive her first assignment.

I down the tea I got from the break room in record time. My legs jiggle up and down and I'm now chewing on the pen.

The very much anticipated knock sounds on my door and I jump up, banging my knee on the top of my desk.

"F.uck," I mutter, rushing to answer the door.