Trigger Warning

Chapter Two: Emmett's POV

"Hello," I answered. It was roughly ten AM on Saturday, and I had just woken up.

"What are your plans for tonight?" Anastasia asked. Her voice sounded thick and raspy, like she had been crying. That isn't really a surprise, considering she cried a lot lately.

"I don't have anything on schedule," I admitted. I turned over and put my feet over the edge of my bed, and picked the crusties out of the corners of my eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"I need you to go to a dinner with me tonight," She said. I could hear things clinking in the background, like dishes.

"Okay, count me in. Where at?" I asked. I made my way to the bathroom to brush my teeth, because Anastasia was quiet for a moment on the phone. Sometimes she forgot to answer me, because she was always so busy in her own world, locked away within the realm of her own mind. I brushed my teeth and looked at my phone-- she was still on the other end of the line. "Anastasia?" I called.

More clinking in the background. "Oh, yeah, sorry. But uh, at the seafood place across from the library," She answered frantically. I looked in the mirror and watched myself furrow my brow.

"That's your dad's favorite place..." I muttered. I could almost feel Anastasia smiling at me apologetically through the phone. "Is it a dinner with your dad?"

"I'm sorry Emmett," Anastasia whispered. Her dad hated me, he thought I liked guys.

"Don't be sorry, Stasia," I said. "We have to tell him sometime you're carrying my baby."

I could hear Anastasia giggle on the other end, a sense of relief washed over me. Her laughter did that to me-- it made me feel relaxed and happy.

"Carrying your baby," she repeated. "That's a weird way of saying it."

"Plenty of people say it that way," I offered. I walked into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. It was empty, of course. My mom never bought food, that was my job. The only think in the fridge now was a six pack of beer.

"I'm sure they do, Em. Do you work today?"

"Yeah, from eleven to five. Want to pay me a visit while I'm on the job?" I asked. I worked at Target, and Anastasia loved to come in and keep me company while I directed prepubescent boys to the Call Of Duty section of our video game aisle.

"Maybe I will. I gotta go. I love you," Ana replied. She hung up before I could say it back.

Anastasia was always in a hurry, and never really appreciated moments, but rather looked back and saw memories.

I was more of a moments guy, but that's just me.