Becoming Kelly and Ben

8 / the engagement

Emma exited her house and walked over to Paul's. It hadn't even been close to the hour she gave him, but she figured he wouldn't mind too much if she was early. She knocked on his door and waited.

And waited. And waited.

"What the hell, Paul?" Emma whispered, slightly concerned. Maybe it was the apocalypse making her wary, but she wasn't exactly okay with people disappearing; they might turn up later singing and puking blue goo. She started knocking again, but much louder this time. "Where are you?"

Another thirty seconds went by and finally the door opened. There was Paul: very wet and very shirtless.

Ah, he was in shower. Enter a very mortified Emma.

"Has it already been an hour?" Paul gasped, looking like he had used all his energy just to squeeze on some pajama pants and run to the door.

"Uh, no," Emma answered, her cheeks hot. "I just didn't have anything to do so.....I came early."

Paul ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Water dripped from his mop of hair onto the floor. "You can come in and hang on the couch. I'll go finish my shower and get dressed."

What the hell did Paul have to finish in the shower? Ignoring some gross theories, Emma realized that a guy like Paul probably had a timed routine for every type of shower situation, and he absolutely must stick to it; lest the world end or something. His ability to be the most lame person on the planet astounded Emma to no end, but who was she to judge? At least he had bothered to shower. She, instead, had decided to look a smell like a hobo.

Paul rushed off to the bathroom to finish his shower ritual, and Emma placed herself on the couch to wait for him. She wasn't expecting anything at Paul's house to be different from hers, and she was completely right. The same plain walls matched the same plain furniture. It looked like a mental asylum waiting room. The government really didn't give a shit about them or their decorating needs.

Emma ran through her usual topics she thought about when she had to wait for something: politics, space, dogs, space dogs, embarrassing high school stories, the last thing she read; but as she had had very little media exposure in the last month, she had nothing to think about once she was done with those few things. And Paul was still in the shower.

Paul. In the shower.

He was really a good looking man when wet and shirtless. Or all the time, really. What she wouldn't give to just.....

"God, girl, get it together!" Emma screamed in her head, slapping herself across the cheek. "You are not a horny teenage boy. Stop it."

At that very fortunate moment, the shower shut off. A minute or two later, Paul entered back into the living room and plopped down on the couch next to Emma. He smelled very good, Emma noted.

"Sorry that took so long, I'm notorious for taking long showers." Paul said. "I tried to cut it short today for your sake, but I just can't help it." He laughed and leaned back on the couch, getting fully relaxed. "Maggie used to nag me about it all the time."

"Who's Maggie?"

Paul seemed to suddenly realize that he'd said something forbidden. His face turned pure white and his fists clenched, like he was punching himself in his head. "Uh....."

The air seemed to stand still. Neither of them were consuming any oxygen; sitting completely frozen, they both waited for the other to speak. Paul didn't seem to want to elaborate, but Emma wasn't one to give in. Clearly Maggie was important, and she wanted to know more about Paul if they were going to be in this together.