Emmett
Tell me, how do I feel?
"Yeah, thanks. I...you're enough too, Phoebe. For me and for everythin'. And...maybe it'll work out despite alla the rough start, right?" Emmett wasn't quite sure where his sudden spurt of optimism had come from, but while it was there he wanted to enjoy it.
There was a hand place on his heart and he smiled at the warmth of her touch, pressed his lips to hers and gently rolled just slightly over her. For a second his heart soared as she was there in his arms, soft and lovely and-- then a surge of panic shot through him. This was how the trouble had started. This was how tragedy had stuck.
But -- if he didn't continue, would she worry about his lack of contact? The same as before? When she had convinced herself he didn't care...?
Was this even a big thing, or was he making too much of a deal about it?
Emmett found he'd been laid trying to work this out for far too long, up over Phoebe on his hands but not moving, just staring. He tried to smile. "Oh, uh, sorry, I just...got distracted by how pretty y'look."
