The One You Can't Forget (The One, #1)

twenty-one

Emyln

Hains is pissed at me.

I can tell just by the way he's walking, and then by the way he aggressively throws his stuff onto the small couch.

I can tell when he sits alone during dinner, chomping away at the delicious burgers we're given. And, every time he takes a sip of his iced tea, he shoots me a nasty glare.

Fuck, even the way he walks back to the cabin we're now sharing screams "I'm-really-fucking-mad-at-you-Emyln-Juliette-Walker."

Inside the cabin, the silence between us is so thick there's barely enough room to breathe, let alone form the words I want to say to him on my tongue. So silence is what we listen to while getting ready for bed. Personally, I wanted our conversation to happen before we got ready for bed, but I'm scared. So scared that I'm going to lose him forever for doing this.

As soon as Hains is done in the small bathroom he tells me it's open and ready for me. I look up at him from the book I'm reading by Sarah J. Maas and take him in. He's wearing a baggy grey T-shirt that's two sizes too big for him and a pair of navy blue boxers. The left side of his shirt has gotten caught in the waistband, showing off just how well those boxers fit his body. I quickly look away, blushing, and get to my feet.

I close the door behind me once I have my pyjamas – a tight tank top and loose-fitting flannel bottoms. I close my eyes and gently bump my head against the wooden door. How the fuck am I going to do this without making him run? Or hate me forever? Why does this have to be so hard?

Shaking my head, I quickly change and brush my teeth.

When I'm back in the main area of the cabin, I find Hains setting up an extra sleeping bag on the couch that I already know is going to be way too small for him to sleep on.

Since I'm a couple inches shorter than him, I offer to take the couch and let him have the bed. He, of course, declines my offer.

Pride, I scoff to myself.

I turn back to organizing the tangled blankets on my bed, and when I'm finished with that, I look over my shoulder at Hains. He's cocooned inside the sleeping bag, which he's pulled to his chin. His back is facing me.

And maybe it's the fact that he's been ignoring me for the later hours of the day that gets to me, but I storm over to the front door, lock it, walk back over to Hains and then jerk the sleeping bag down as far as I can.

"What the fuck, Ems?" he demands, turning to face me. He flicks on the flashlight and it almost blinds me.

"Get up," I snap. "Now."

"No," he argues.

"Goddammit," I say, gripping his shoulders. "Get up. NOW! I don't care if you don't want to talk to me about all the shit that's happened between us – we're going to do it. It's time. We're alone. We're together. So get up off of your timid, cowardly ass and talk to me, Hains."