The Act

•14•

A Few Months Later

I bit down on my bottom lip as I tried to suppress the smile tugging on my lips. Tiptoeing into my apartment, I closed the door softly behind me as I replayed tonight's events in my head like a movie. It had been a genuinely nice night–a night I wish I could relive. Another smile tugged on my lips.

"Late night?" Amara's voice sounded, breaking me from my thoughts. Amusement danced in her eyes as she leaned against the kitchen's entryway. I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Amara," I started, all thoughts of tonight wiped from my mind. "What are you doing here?"

"It's movie night," Emery announced as she made her way out of the kitchen and into the living room, a large bowl of freshly popped popcorn in her hand. "You would know that, but you were out with your billionaire boyfriend."

Emery sent a smirk my way before taking a seat on the ground in front of the wooden coffee table. I dropped my arms to my sides, clicking my tongue. The last thing I wanted to do was ditch them for a guy. "I would've cancelled–"

"No," Amara started, taking a seat on the couch. She reached into the popcorn bowl, taking a handful of the buttery snack before sitting back and crossing her legs. Both she and Emery were dressed in their most comfortable pajamas. On the TV, the beginning of a movie was paused. "I wouldn't have let you. You were excited."

"I don't know about excited," I stated, taking a seat next to Amara on the couch. I kicked off my shoes and grabbed a small amount of popcorn before tucking my knees to my chest. As I looked up, I caught the look shared between my sister and best friend. As if they knew something I had not. Curious, I asked, "What?"

"Nothing," Emery says with a shake of her head. Her loose ringlets are held in a messy bun by a hair tie, making her look slightly younger than she is. I look to Amara, who was suddenly extremely interested in the popcorn kernels in her hand. Emery wraps her arms around her knees drawing them to her chest before continuing. "Tell us, how was it?"

I shrugged. "It was a date."

"Not smiling like that, it wasn't." Amara states gesturing to the front door. I couldn't stop the smile that formed on my face as I shoved the rest of the popcorn in my hand into my mouth.

"Nothing happened," I laughed around a mouthful of popcorn.

Emery gave me her best disbelieving look. "It's one in the morning and you've come home smelling like him, Avery."

Over the past few months, Damien and I have gotten closer as friends. There were a few times where I could tell he wanted to ask about my previous relationship–why it ended so badly but he never did. Instead, we found ways to be seen together in public. We go out on 'dates' and when the paparazzi show up, we make sure to be closer than usual. There have been pictures of us holding hands, smiling, and laughing, hugging. I even see him at the hospital every now and then.

New rumors have surfaced. The new rumor floating around the hospital is that Damien's still with me because he got me pregnant. At first, it hurt. Now, I barely pay any mind to the rumors. That's all the are–rumors. Nobody knows the truth, nobody except for me and Damien.

Amara rolled her eyes as a dramatic sigh filled the room. "Enough with the games, Avery."

I ran my hands along my jeans, wiping away the excess butter before shrugged again. Every bone in my body wants so badly to be done with this conversation. "I don't know what you want me to tell you."

"Oh, my goodness," Amara stated. "Did you and Damien have sex?"

I let out a surprised laugh. "What?"

Sex? A large part of me wanted to cringe–to bury my face into the nearest pillow. Not at the idea of having sex with Damien, just the idea of sex at all–sharing that much of myself with any man again–it's too soon.

Emery shrugged sheepishly, a slight tinge of color decorating her cheeks. "You've been coming home later and later–"

"So, you automatically thought Damien and I were–" I stopped midsentence, closing my eyes. I racked my brain, thinking of possible reasons why Damien and I haven't had sex yet. "Damien and I are taking things...slow."

"Real slow," Amara scoffed as she sat back on the couch. I shot her a look. Her eyes softened as if realizing the importance of this moment. "There's nothing wrong with slow, I'm just saying, you two have been out on all these dates and you haven't kissed him yet."

My mind went to the moment Damien and I shared at his house. A single heated moment. I hadn't told Emery or Amara. It wasn't important.

"Tristan and Carson say Damien avoids the subject. If you two have kissed, Damien won't tell," Emery states, leaning back on her hands. She aims an expectant look at me–the look that used to get me to spill every ounce of drama I knew when we were kids. We aren't kids anymore.

"How is Tristan," I start, changing the subject. "What's going on there?"

Emery and Tristan have been hanging out more frequently. He stops by the hospital, sometimes during Emery's break and takes her to lunch. When I asked him about it, he shuffled uncomfortably on his feet and claimed they were friends.

"Nothing," Emery says innocence written across her face. It hard not to notice as she drops her gaze and stares intently at the popcorn bowl. She shrugs before bringing her eyes to meet mine. "We're friends."

"Right," Amara chimed in nodding slowly. "I don't believe that for a second. I've seen the way he looks at you, Em. Trust me, that's not the way you look at a friend."

Color rushes to Emery's cheeks as she grabs the nearest pillow, hurling it at Amara. "I'm officially terminating this conversation."