Defining Normal | EMBRY CALL

Truce

Embry has never particularly understood the protocol for "what happened last night" conversations. His experience is limited only to a small handful of experiences, mostly related to chaotic pack occurrences that leave his head spinning. He distinctly remembers the last time he uttered that question, moments after awaking to find himself entirely nude and dirtied on the side of state route 110. A cup of coffee from Sam - it was generous to call it coffee; sludge would be more accurate - and an expedition into his brothers' memories had brought the hunt from the night before back into his consciousness, the recollections rolling in like the tide at sunset. Embry wished sometimes - okay, a lot of the time - that he could access Lex's brain similarly, flipping through the thoughts like CDs in a stacker until he'd find whatever he was searching for. He wants to know it all - the things that keep her up at night, her dreams, her fears; most of all, he wants to know exactly what's about to come out of her mouth.

She sits across from him in the booth, quiet and contemplative as she stirs the sugar into her coffee. Her eyes trace the spoon as it completes lazy circles around the mug, dissolving the granules into whispers of sweetness. For once, he isn't intimidated by her silence - he knows now that she wants to be around him, at least to some small degree, and it's enough of a comfort to relax him.

"So..." he starts, stretching the word out. "What do you want to talk about?"

She rolls her eyes playfully, propping her chin on her palm. He doesn't dare to share his thoughts, but with the light streaming into the diner, beaming upon her freckled face, all he can think of is how positively gorgeous she is. She crinkles her nose at his stare.

"You're a dolt," she says; she could say anything to him and he'd still gaze at her like she has the stars in her eyes.

"Okay, okay, I'm not good with words like a certain someone," he teases, enjoying the way she shakes her head. "You want to talk about last night. So, let's talk about it. What's on your mind?"

She casts her eyes downward for a short while, gazing into the depths of her mug.

"I feel weird about calling you yesterday. Like, you're obviously my friend, right, but when all of that was happening all I could think about is how badly I wanted you there. You were on my mind. You, not Kim, and Kim's meant to be my best friend."

Lex's forehead creases in thought as the words come rushing out, her eyes still averted from him. It's both a blessing and a curse that the waitress stops by with their waffles - he's starving , but he's finally getting a hint of transparency from her, and he wants this moment to stretch on into forever. He thinks while he chews his first bite, deliciously sweet from the pools of syrup on the dish.

"I think," he starts, in between bites, "that it doesn't matter why you called me over Kim. If you called Kim, she'd call Jared, and he'd tell me anyway, so it's basically the same thing."

Her frown deepens. "I don't know, Em. You and I...it's just...weird, okay. This is weird," she says, waving her hands around as if she could somehow grasp the words that elude her.

Embry lowers his fork. Her distress is a little off-putting - sleeping beside her was like moving forwards, but it's starting to feel like the curtains are closing on her openness.

"You know, it doesn't really matter to me what we are. I like being with you. I like it when you call me, or when you need my help. I like you, Lex. If you want to be friends, that's cool. You can still call me whenever. If you want more than that, if you want a cuddle here and there, we can do that. You can me whatever you want," he says, stretching his arm out to rest his digits on the centre of the table.

Lex studies his hand with an unreadable expression. When she speaks, her voice is low and throaty, almost a whisper. "Can you promise me you won't ask me to be your girlfriend?"