Little Bird // Thomas Sangster

| I Want to Hold Your Hand |

Dedicated to @EllisStotter and @xxlovethecurls because they gave me the ideas for this chapter :)

***

"Emerald?"

I wake the following morning to my mum's soft, hushed voice, and seeing how dark it is outside, wonder why she'd be up so early. Instead of a "hello" or "good morning," though, I groan into my pillow and turn so that I'm laying facing away from the door where she stands.

"Emerald, I know you're awake," she sighs, and when she gets no response, continues, "Well, I'm heading off to work. I just wanted to give you a fair warning because Blaire's planning to take Ava to the studio in a few hours, the triplets are getting picked up by a friend to go see a hockey game or whatever, your dad has work, too, and Mr. and Mrs. Sangster said they'd like to go out and just walk around London for a while, you know, for the sake of the good ol' days."

"Why must you do this to me, Mum?" I mentally slap myself for responding without processing what the words meant until after they came out of my mouth.

She sighs again. "You know, you and Thomas have got to get used to being alone together."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to have to be alone together more often," she answers as though it's the most casual thing in the world.

"Why?" I ask again.

"Crazy schedules." There's a pause, then my mum says, "Why is your computer on?"

"It's not," I say, my heart leaping into my throat and causing me to make a little choking sound. Please don't tell me I left it on all night.

"Oh, Emerald, how long have you been looking at apartments online?"

Dang it.

"Since yesterday," I answer truthfully, seeing no way that lying could possibly help me.

"Is this because of Thomas?"

"No." Nevermind, I take it back. Lying could possibly help me.

She doesn't answer for a minute, and I know she doesn't believe me, but doesn't say anything. It's true that, after last night and the run to buy milk, I mentally slapped myself (again) for even thinking that Thomas and I could get along, so I began fervently searching for apartments on the Internet. Blaire had even walked in during my search and asked why I was looking to move out, to which I simply responded that still living with my family at age twenty-four when I had enough money to have a place of my own was getting to me.

"Okay, well, be nice. Your alone time begins at one or so. That's when the boys are leaving," Mum finally says.

"Have a nice time at work," I respond innocently, trying not to push my luck.

And I succeed, seeing as she walks out not long after, and allow myself to have a much-needed moment of pillow-screaming, something that I seem to do often. Only after I'm done with that is when I wonder how loud pillow-screaming really is. I could probably wake someone up when I do it at what is most likely four in the morning and the rest of the house is quiet, but hearing no movement or anything, I decide that I haven't interrupted anyone and do it again.

When I'm finally finished, I try to get comfortable again. I need to go back to bed and get myself prepared for what is guaranteed to be a long, long day tomorrow, the only problem being that I'm wide awake now. Wait. I have to work tomorrow! Never before have I been so happy at the thought of being a tour guide, but now it's giving me an excuse to leave my arch-nemesis...wait, no, one of my co-workers is filling in my shift for me. Dang it!