Chapter Text
It’s Penelope who convinces her to go.
She mentions the party offhandedly, not thinking much of it as she talks about her day and the nice girl - JJ - in her behavioural psych class who had invited her along. The next thing Emily knows, she’s being all but forced out of her apartment by her exuberant, but well-meaning, neighbour who had decided they’d be friends the day she moved in three years ago.
She tries to ask Penelope if she’s sure, but she’s met with a raised eyebrow before her own front door is shut in her face, the order to have fun still ringing in her ears, followed by laughter dulled by the door.
She feels old the moment she arrives at the party.
Being 25 and due to graduate from college soon seemed to have that effect on her wherever she went on campus. She knows it’s mostly in her head, that she thinks about her age far more than anyone else, but it means she typically kept everyone at a distance, making sure conversation was polite but surface-level only.
She knows she’s only four years older than her classmates, something caused by her delayed start to college in the first place, but she knows she’d feel the same even if they were all the same age. It had been years since the fun of finally being able to drink legally had worn off, instead of the months it had been for JJ and her friends. It had been years since she’d worried about who she wanted to date and who wanted to date her since it always seemed to end the same way anyway.
It had been years since she felt her age.
She makes a point of speaking to JJ for a while before she sneaks off to look for a drink, determined to have one before she leaves, and that’s when she spots him. He’s standing in the corner of the room, a bottle of beer in hand, looking every bit out of place as she feels. He looks around her age, maybe a few years older, and he had a look in his eyes as if he was asking himself what he was doing here just as much as she was asking herself the same question.
Later, she’d wonder what drew her to speak to him, why she didn’t just grab a beer and walk away, but she finds herself next to him and clearing her throat to get his attention before she can overthink it too much.
“You look as glad to be here as I am,” she says, and he smiles at her, something that makes her stomach flip the moment she sees his dimples.
“I think I got a pity invite,” he says, his smile getting wider as she raises an eyebrow at him, “I tutor some of the pre-law students.”
She nods in understanding, “You go to the law school?”
“It’s my final year,” he says, “You?”
“Finishing my undergrad in May,” she says, preempting his attempt to hide his surprise, “I worked for a few years between high school and college.”
It’s a half-truth, and about as much as she’s willing to say to someone she’s sure she’ll never see again. Thankfully, he nods and accepts her answer without a follow-up question.
“I did the same between college and law school,” he scrunches his nose up a little, “It does make me feel old though at the grand old age of 30.”
She laughs, a genuine laugh that escapes from her chest without warning, and she nods, “I know what you mean,” she says, “And I’m only 25.” She raises her eyebrow playfully at him and sips her beer, “God knows how I’ll feel when I’m as old as you.”
He smiles at her, something she’s too afraid to name sparking in his eyes, and he offers out a hand for her to shake, “Aaron.”
She shakes his hand as she replies, “Emily.”
She stays longer than she intended to, Penelope’s assurance - insistence - that she’d have fun still echoing in her head as she flirts with the handsome stranger she’d found some middle ground with. He was funny and smart, and she completely loses track of time as they stand in the corner of the party together as if they were the only people in the room. It sparks something in her gut that she chooses to ignore, drowning it in the second beer he hands her when she finishes her first.
It was just a little harmless flirting at a party. It was never going to lead to anything.
It’s something she repeats in her head again and again, an attempt to reassure herself that starts to fall flat as the evening goes on.
“Can I have your number?” He asks eventually, an edge of nervousness to his voice that only adds to her guilt as she freezes up. She knows she should have seen it coming, that his request shouldn’t surprise her; this is what people their age did, but it still makes her freeze.
“Why?”
He furrows his brow, but carries on, “So I can take you on a date.”
She can’t blame him for it, can’t be mad for him assuming that it’s that simple. That he’s 30 and she’s 25 and there is no reason they can’t go out with each other, but she feels the weight of her reality that she’d tried to shrug off at the door like a heavy winter jacket return to her shoulders, and she starts to shake her head.
“I can’t,” she says, putting her half-finished beer down on the table, “I’m sorry.”
She walks away, his questioning voice fading and mixing into the music she’d ignored most of the night. She just about remembers to say goodbye to JJ, her mother’s insistence that she always be polite still inbuilt into her even after all these years, and she leaves the party, purposely dodging Aaron as he continues to look for her in the crowd, his confusion now concern as he sought her out to make sure she was okay.
As she leaves the house, she chastises herself for letting herself get talked into this in the first place. She furiously wipes the tears from her cheeks as she walks back to her apartment building, deciding then and there that she couldn’t do this again. That she couldn’t pretend her life wasn’t as complicated as it was for even a few hours.
It wasn’t only her feelings that got hurt in the process. She’d hurt a nice guy who thought he was just talking to a nice girl, and she knew it would take a few days for the guilt to fade.
Penelope smiles at her the moment she walks into the apartment. “You’re back already?”
Emily nods and forces a smile as she takes off her jacket and hangs it by the front door. “It was getting a little rowdy,” she says, “Thought it was time for me to leave.”
Penelope nods and stands up from the couch, her book already closed and tucked under her arm, her eyebrow raised. “You did have fun though?”
“I had fun,” she assures her, letting herself get dragged into the hug she didn’t know how to ask for but her friend always had waiting for her. She looks around her apartment and spots the cupcakes on the counter, smiling to herself at the slightly lopsided and brightly coloured frosting “Was everything okay here?”
“Perfect as always,” she replies as she pulls back, “I’m always happy to help, you know that.”
“Thanks, Pen,” Emily says, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Penelope waves her off just like she always does, and she heads to the front door, simply picking up her shoes instead of putting them on for the short walk across the hall. “You coming over for breakfast tomorrow before you go to work?”
“Of course, I can’t work the help desk at the library without your pancakes to keep me going,” she replies, hugging her friend again before she opens the door, “Thanks again, Pen. I mean it when I say I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s my pleasure, and you know it,” she replies, “See you in the morning.”
Emily’s smile slips from her face the moment the door is closed, and she sighs, the unsettled feeling she had from the party rearing its ugly head again as she slips the lock into place.
She imagines how the evening could have gone in another life. She would have probably given Aaron her number without thinking about it, probably would have kissed him too or gone home with him. Something that could have been a one-night stand she’d remember fondly or maybe even something more. He seemed like a nice guy, like someone she would have seen how things could have gone with if she was someone else.
Instead, he was someone she’d never see again and soon forget she’d ever spoken to once the guilt she felt for the way she left things had faded away.
She shakes it off as she walks deeper into the apartment, determined to let it go, well aware Aaron would forget her soon enough too. That she’d be a curiosity he’d mention to a future girlfriend as he told the story of how he’d asked for someone’s number and she’d run in the other direction.
She gets ready for bed quickly. Using a make-up wipe instead of doing her usual routine for her skin and changing into her pjyamas, the clothes she’d worn to the party already stuffed into the hamper so she could wash off the smell of alcohol and smoke she’s sure her clothes picked up while she was there.
She’s careful as she opens the door of the smaller bedroom in the apartment, her fingers grazing the brightly coloured letters they’d stuck on the door the day they moved in. She smiles as she walks in and sees the little girl curled up in bed, her dark hair over her face and her favourite toy - a stuffed cat - snuggled against her chest. She sits on the edge of the bed and pushes her hair from her face, her smile getting wider as the girl seems to lean into it.
“Mommy?”
She shushes her, smiling at the use of Mommy instead of the Mom her little girl had shifted towards lately.
“It’s me, Rosie,” she says, “Go back to sleep, baby.”
“Did you have fun?” Rosie asks as she lies back enough to look at her, rubbing at her eyes as she hugs her cat closer to her chest.
“I did, honey. Did you have fun with Aunt Pen?”
Rosie nods, “We baked cupcakes. We left some for you.”
“I saw.” Emily smiles and leans in to kiss her forehead. “That sounds so fun,” she says, and Rosie yawns in response, “Go back to sleep, okay?”
Rosie reaches out and grabs her shirt. “Stay?”
She smiles and nods. Usually, she’d say no, tell the 9-year-old that she needed to go and sleep on her own bed, that she’d only be down the hall, but she still feels out of sorts, thrown off by a feeling in her gut that she can’t shift, caused by a kind man with a smile she can’t stop thinking about.
“Just this once,” she says, and she climbs into Rosie’s bed with her, snuggling in with her like she did when she was a toddler, and they only had a one-bedroom apartment, “Love you.”
Rosie yawns, her face pressed against Emily’s neck. “Love you too,” she says, her words starting to slur as she starts to fall asleep again, “just you and me.”
Emily feels her breath catch in her chest, and she kisses the top of her little girl's head, whispering the promise she’d made her since she made the decision to keep her and lost everything else as a result.
“Just you and me.”