Chapter 6: Tasha

I gripped the edges of the sink, staring down as my tears fell in steady drops, echoing faintly against the porcelain. Taking a deep breath, I looked up into the mirror. My face was blotchy, my eyes red and puffy. Shaking my head, I grabbed a napkin from the counter and dabbed at my face, trying to wipe away any trace of emotion.

A soft knock came at the door. "Pinky?" Emmett's voice was gentle, almost hesitant.

"Yes?" I tried to sound composed, but my voice cracked slightly.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute," I replied quickly, swallowing the lump in my throat.

After a few more deep breaths, I opened the door slowly, peeking out. My gaze landed on Emmett's chest first before trailing up to his concerned face.

"I don't bite," he said, attempting a joke, though his voice carried a note of worry.

I smiled faintly, stepping out and leaning back against the door.

"You've been crying," he said softly, his brows knitting together.

"I'm fine," I lied, though the tremor in my voice betrayed me.

"Is it about what Giana called you?" he asked, his tone cautious.

"No." I sighed, gripping the hem of my shirt for comfort. "It's just... being around your family reminded me of my mom. I guess it made me miss how things used to be when she was here."

Emmett's expression softened, and without a word, he stepped closer and wrapped me in a hug. His arms were warm, steady, and comforting—everything I didn't know I needed in that moment. My hands rested on his back, holding on for just a second longer than I should have.

When we pulled apart, I looked up at him, determined to push my feelings aside. He wasn't just the guy I liked—he was the guy who made me laugh, who saw me when I felt invisible. I wasn't giving up.

"Do you want to leave?" he asked, sounding almost disappointed.

"No," I said with a small, sad smile. "Your mom and sister are hilarious. I wouldn't want to leave them hanging."

He nodded, and we walked back to the dining room together.

The rest of the evening passed in laughter and lighthearted teasing, but as the clock neared eight, I knew it was time to go.

"Ahh, why do you have to leave?" Isla groaned, clinging to my arm like a lifeline.

With my backpack slung over one shoulder, Emmett gently pried her hands off me. "Alright, Isla. She's got a curfew," he said, quickly closing the door before she could protest further.

It was quiet as we walked to my car, the moonlight casting soft shadows across the driveway. I glanced up at the stars, their light pale compared to the warmth I felt tonight.

"Your sister is nice," I said, breaking the silence.

"That's what all my friends say," he replied with a small frown.

Something about the way he said friends made my chest tighten. "We're friends," I whispered, testing the word.

His face broke into a wide grin. "Of course. You know things about me, and I know things about you, Pinky."

"Okay," I laughed nervously, feeling a bit flustered.

"I should go. My dad wants me home by nine," I said, fumbling with my keys.

Emmett leaned in slightly, his dark eyes gleaming under the moonlight. "What a good girl," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Go on home. Don't want any predators getting you."

A shiver ran down my spine, though not from fear. I nodded quickly, giving him one last glance before starting my car.

As I drove down the quiet streets, I caught a glimpse of him in my rearview mirror, his silhouette still visible under the pale glow of the moon. My heart twisted. Friends. We were just friends now, and I wasn't sure if that was a step forward or a dead end.

But I wasn't giving up. I'd read too many Wattpad stories and watched enough K-dramas to believe in the magic of friends to lovers. He was different around me—gentler, softer. It made me feel special.

By the time I got home, it was 9:30. I crept inside, hoping to avoid any trouble, but the moment I reached the stairs, the lights flicked on.

"Pa," I said with a sheepish smile.

"Don't 'Pa' me," my dad said sternly, sitting in his recliner. "When I say your curfew is nine, I mean in the house by 8:30. You're thirty minutes late, young lady."

"I know," I said, dragging myself to the couch.

"You know? The last time you missed curfew, I was scared out of my mind," he said, his voice rising slightly.

"I know, Dad, but I was at a book release. I needed that first copy," I explained weakly.

"I let it slide then because you were with Milton—someone I know. This project partner? I don't know him. So, no books."

"What?" I shot up from my seat, my heart sinking.

"Don't look at me like that. After a long shift, I just wanted to rest, but instead, I had to worry about you. Now, go get all your books and put them in my room."

I huffed but didn't argue, stomping off to my room. This was going to take forever.

The next morning, Milton handed me a cup of cappuccino as I slouched at my locker.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

"You look rough. What happened? That jock?" Milton asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and disapproval.

"No, my dad took all my books because I got home late," I sighed.

Milton stepped in front of me, gripping my shoulders. "Are you becoming Miss Bad Girl now? You never miss curfew—except that one time, and you were with me."

"I think Dad's just nervous because he doesn't know Emmett," I admitted.

"I know of him, and I don't like him around you," Milton said firmly.

"You're right!" I said suddenly, a plan forming in my mind.

Milton raised a brow. "I'm always right."

"I'll bring Emmett over so Dad can meet him," I declared.

"No, no, no—that's not what I meant!" Milton protested.

Before he could say more, Emmett appeared down the hall with his friends. He stopped when he saw me, a crooked smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, Pinky," he said, his tone light and playful.

I waved awkwardly, my heart skipping as he walked past.

Milton groaned beside me. "Great. Just great."

"What?" I asked, stuffing my books into my locker.

"You're totally, irrevocably, inescapably in love with him," Milton said, shaking his head.