The Right Kind of Wrong

Parking her car on the street outside the house, Emily left her books in the passenger seat and picked up her bag from the floor before stepping out and frowning at the dark clouds looming above. She didn’t really like storms, but she could clearly see one approaching.

Locking the car, she jogged across the empty street and up the steps to the front door. Already having been friendly reprimanded for knocking and not just wandering inside, she knocked once and then pulled the door open, wiping of her sneakers before walking inside. Dropping her bag on the ground and removing her shoes, she looked around to see where the inhabitants were.

Coming up short, she wandered further into the house and could only roll her eyes when she found two of them sitting in the living room, deeply engrossed in playing HALO. “I could be an axe murderer for all you know,” she said dryly.

“Huh?” Jason Gregoire mumbled distracted, not tearing his eyes away from the flat screen for even a second.

Shaking her head smiling, she turned and headed up the stairs, knowing that Chris was most probably in his room, studying. In difference to for example Erik, he was actually interested in finishing his education and graduate with good grades.

Walking down the hall, she soon turned left and stepped through the already open door, raising her eyebrows slightly at the sight that greeted her. “Is it obligatory for you to never wear a shirt?” she smiled softly as she pushed her hands into the pockets of her jeans to suppress the urge to reach out and touch the tanned skin on his arms, chest and back…

“What?” Chris frowned as he turned around in the chair by his desk, slowly dragging his eyes away from the screen.

“Nothing,” she shook her head and walked further into the room, sinking down on the unmade bed. “You nervous about tonight?” she asked carefully, not knowing how he felt about talking about a game, before said game.

“Not really,” he told her. “I mean, it’s the usual nerves, the added excitement of it being the Gopher series, but I wouldn’t say I was nervous, exited is more like it,” he shrugged slightly.

“Right,” she nodded skeptically.

“You don’t believe me?” he raised his eyebrows at her, a slight smirk spreading across his lips as he watched her closely.

“Not really, no,” she smiled widely. “I've played sports too,” she pointed out. “And there really were times that I wanted to puke my guts out cause of some games,” she revealed. “Particularly the ones against the biggest rivals, on home turf with the pressure of the crowd on top of you.”

“Do you want to make me nervous?” he questioned, looking straight at her.

“No,” she stated quickly. “Of course not.”

“You're not doing such a great job of it,” he smirked, getting off the chair and approaching her with a predatory look in his eyes. “You should try harder,” he continued as he forced her to look up at him, nudging her to lie back on the bed as he kneeled on the edge of it, pressing his lips against hers.

“How much harder would that be?” she smirked against his lips as she ran her hand up the side of his neck and to the back of his head, bringing him even closer as she slowly scooted higher on the bed.

“We’ll work on it,” he stated, no longer focusing on the conversation as his hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, slowly inching higher across her skin.

“You have a game in a few hours,” she pointed out breathlessly as his lips moved down the side of her neck, nibbling slightly and causing her to gasp as he hit that spot.

“Making out never hurt anyone,” he shut her up as he practically lay on top of her, supporting himself on one of his forearms.

“Right,” she nodded absentmindedly, running her fingers through his short hair. He was right about that…

“When do you have to leave?” Emily asked as she wandered into the kitchen after Chris, lifting herself up on the counter as she watched him drink milk direct from the carton. “That’s disgusting by the way.”

“Thank you, mom,” he rolled his eyes at her. “And in a while,” he shrugged. “I don’t have an exact time.”

“You’re not superstitious about that?” she asked surprised.

“Trust me, I have a hell of a lot of other superstitions,” he laughed as he picked up the sandwich she’d helped him prepare just moments earlier. “I really don’t need any more. Why?”

“Nothing,” she tried to brush off.

“Did he have some time thing?” he observed her.

“Don’t even get me started on it,” she groaned as she leaned her head back against the cupboards. “It was a pain to deal with.”

“So,” he trailed off as he rounded the table and walked up to her, resting his hands on her knees. “You are coming tonight, right?” he checked. She had said so before, but he knew that he was going to be there so he wasn't taking any chances; she could have changed her mind.

“Of course I am,” she stated, as seriously as she had every other time he’d asked.

“Just checking,” he smiled embarrassed; he was really worried about how much he wanted her to be there, watching them try to beat the Gophers.

“It’s okay,” she shrugged, watching him.

“You got any gear to wear?”

“Ehrm, I was thinking of just wearing the white-out shirt you have everyone buying,” she hinted, a small smile across her lips as she looked up at him.

“You have to have something else too,” he disagreed.

“I have a baseball cap,” she offered.

“We’ll get you something more for tomorrow,” he stated as he leaned forwards and quickly kissed her.

“Whatever,” she shook her head slightly. She had no idea what he was on about, or well she did, she just didn’t think it was that big of a deal, especially since they were requesting them to wear the white-out shirts, or at least something white.

“Hush,” he smiled at her as he reached for the last piece of the sandwich and quickly finished it off. “So I should probably get going…”

“Alright,” she nodded as she picked up her glass and he walked out in the hallway.

Finishing off her drink, she placed the now empty glass in the sink and wiped the moisture off on her jeans.

“So should I get someone to…” he asked as he was in the middle of tying the laces on his shoes.

“Shhh,” she smiled, pressing her index finger to her lips as she looked down at him from her place on the counter, knowing exactly was he was about to ask. “There is going to be no fighting,” she stated as she jumped down, rounding the table as she did. “And besides,” she said, reaching out and grasping his chin. “I'm not telling you his number anyway,” she whispered before soundly pressing her lips against him, giggling slightly as he quickly abandoned his shoes and reached up, placing his hands on her hips and maneuvering her closer to him.

She knew that this was probably a really bad idea. Her relationship with Erik had lasted for seven long years and counting when she broke it off just some six months earlier and she probably needed some more time to heal, time to get over what happened. But she just didn’t seem able to keep away from him, and a large part of her was very happy about that…even if it freaked her out slightly.