I sat in my car in front of Emmett's house, waiting for him to come out. I drummed my hands on the steering wheel, my heart pounding harder than the bass in the Kendrick Lamar song pumping through the speakers. The last two months since meeting Emmett had been the most exciting of my life. They'd also been the most confusing two months of my life.

Before Emmett, I never had these feelings for guys. Though, if I were being honest, I never had these feelings for girls either. I pursued relationships with girls because it was expected that I should have a girlfriend. My friends always made a big a deal of it whenever I was single, constantly pushing me to go after some girl I had no interest in. Brandon still hadn't dropped his pursuit to get me laid. Just yesterday, he said, "Just find a person you think is hot. It doesn't matter who they are." In their defense, it was partially my fault for not telling them how I felt, rather than just shrugging them off. They just wanted me to be happy.

If only I could tell my friends that I was single because the person I desperately wanted didn't want me back.

Besides, there was something special about Emmett. Sure, I wanted to be with him, but more than that, I wanted to know him. And if I had to squash my attraction down until it gave me an ulcer, I would. I needed Emmett in my life. I craved Emmett. My veins ached for their next fix. My heart throbbed every time I passed his street. Not even his house. Just the sight of the fucking street was enough to raise my blood pressure.

Thankfully, Emmett didn't get weirded out earlier when I kissed his cheek. I got caught up in the moment with Emmett being so close and so cute. A bit of my true feelings bubbled up before I could stamp out the idea.

And I got off easy with Emmett's request being reading a book. I would read a thousand books if he wanted. It was honestly a good thing that he wasn't aware of the power he held over me. All he needed was to ask and I would do anything for him.

Emmett rushed out the front door. The sight of him made my heart flutter.

I allowed myself to the count of five to ogle him, concealed in the dark oasis of my car.

One...

His black hair swept into a perfect mess.

Two...

His sharp-cut jawline sporting the tiniest bit of stubble. I wanted to rub my cheek against it to feel the scratchy satisfaction.

Three...

His lips that sang a siren's song luring me to the dangerous idea of letting my own lips meet them.

Four...

The pale pink button-down shirt that clung to his taut frame, allowing me a wondrous glimpse of what lay beneath; all that tan skin my fingers itched to explore.

Five...

The no-man's-land—the no-Clay-land—beneath his belt that led to all kinds of scary, lovely, thrilling ideas.

Emmett opened the door, spreading light across the car. I pushed my legs together to hide the tightness in the front of my jeans and brought my hands down to the bottom of the steering wheel as extra cover. His sweet scent filled my nose, making my mouth water. I wanted to bury my face in the nape of his neck, to inhale that scent, getting high off him.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," Emmett said.

When the dome light extinguished, I unplugged the aux cable from my phone, cutting off Kendrick mid-verse, and handed it to Emmett. That had become a habit. I did everything in my power to make Emmett comfortable and content around me, hoping it would make him want to spend even more time with me.

Emmett shook his head as he plugged in his phone and searched for a song. "How do you always get me to do exactly what you want?"

I had to laugh at that. If we were doing what I wanted, we'd be hidden away in some secret place where no one would find us, wearing a lot less clothing, letting our mouths and hands explore forbidden territory.

With Taylor Swift's "Don't Blame Me" roaring from the speakers, I pulled away from the curb, letting myself bask in the glory of that notion. Imagining how I would worship every inch of Emmett until he belted out a holy chorus. As I listened to Taylor's words, I realized this song was weirdly apropos to my situation. I wondered if it was kismet or if Emmett was secretly aware of my desire.

I shook my head.

Keep dreaming, dumbass.

__________

____

The address Jackson sent was on the other side of town, where all the houses stood behind castle walls with automatic gates to keep out the riffraff. Where statues and fountains took the place of lawn gnomes and birdbaths. Not a single lawn had so much as a stray weed.

The driveway of the behemoth of a house was jammed with cars, bumper to bumper. I grimaced at the thought of having to park in that chaos. "Do you mind if we park down the street and walk? I don't want to get stuck in that if this thing is lame and we want to leave."

"Fine by me," Emmett said.

I did a quick U-turn, driving back down the street to the small park we passed on the way in. I pulled into an empty spot and cut the engine. It seemed we weren't the only ones with this thought. A dozen other cars sat in the lot and not a single person was in the park.

Another car pulled into the space beside us. A gang of rowdy boys jumped out, chasing each other down the street toward the party.

Emmett sighed. "I can't believe I'm actually choosing to spend time with these people."

"I thought you liked your school."

"My school is great. It's the people I could live without."

My eyes lingered on his face, drifting down to his lips. Emmett turned to me with furrowed brows. "What? Do I have a zit or something?" He pulled the sun visor down and opened the mirror to check. The tiny light shined on his beautiful face, making his green eyes glow.

"I just got distracted thinking about what you said. About not liking the people. I get that."

Emmett slapped the visor closed and nodded. "After this year, I'm so out of here. On the first flight to New York after graduation."

The thought of Emmett leaving town—leaving me—sent an icy prickle across my skin. "Why New York?"

"Because nobody cares what you are there. Gay, straight, pan, bi, ace. You just get to live anonymously in the middle of a million people with better things to do than think about you and your sex life."

I didn't know what "ace" meant, but I agreed with the sentiment. It would be nice to live in a place like that. To not worry if the people around me would accept what I felt for Emmett. I could just grab Emmett in the middle of Times Square and kiss him like the couple in that famous photo from World War II. Although, unlike the woman in that photo, Emmett would consent to kissing me back.

Honestly, all I needed was that last part. I didn't care where we existed so long as he was there, loving me, wanting me.

"You're doing it again," Emmett said.

I blinked, realizing my eyes were fixed on his lips again. "Sorry. Just... yeah. That sounds great."

"What about you?" Emmett asked.

"What about me?"

"Don't you have plans for after graduation?"

I shook my head. "I never really think that far ahead."

"You don't have any idea where you might go? You have to want to go somewhere out of state, right? I mean, who in their right mind would ever choose to stay here?"

"When I was a kid, I used to think I wanted to be a doctor. Ya know, so I could find a cure for what my dad had, so no one ever has to go through what he did."

"That's admirable. And sweet."

"I'm not smart enough for that, though."

Emmett gripped my shoulder, sending shivers up my spine. "I think you could do it, if you really apply yourself."

It meant a lot that Emmett believed in me. My parents had offered similar sentiments in the past, but coming from Emmett, it hit differently.

"Maybe you could go to NYU or Columbia," Emmett said excitedly. "We could hang out all the time. Maybe even get an apartment together."

That sounded like a dream. I could imagine myself strolling down the streets of Manhattan with Emmett at my side. Though, in my perfect dreamworld, Emmett would hold my hand or have an arm wrapped around me.

As we hiked up to the house, I turned to Emmett and asked, "What is ace?"

"Asexual. It basically means you aren't sexually attracted to anyone. But there's like a whole spectrum, and I'm not an expert, so maybe look it up if you're really curious."

I wondered if that was what I was. I had never been all that interested in sex, or sought it out. I did it with Summer, and one other girl before that. But it always felt wrong. Not in the moral, you're-going-to-Hell sense. It just felt awkward. I didn't see it as arousing or appealing. Not like my friends, who acted horny all the time. Even porn never did much for me—although given recent realizations, perhaps I was watching the wrong kind.

Because, despite never having had an interest, there was Emmett. My attraction to him was most definitely sexual. And intellectual. And emotional. Emmett was everything. He gave me the feelings I read about in the great romance novels they assigned for English class; the feelings described in love songs that I always dismissed as schmaltzy or over-exaggerated. He made me see the art in what I once thought of as bullshit.

Gay. Bi. Ace. I didn't know what label fit me. As terrifying as it was to admit—even to myself—I knew for sure I couldn't claim straight anymore. I'd known it for a while. I'm not sure I ever really claimed it, though. It was just foisted on me by my friends, our school, this town. That was the default here. That was normal to them.

But if my feelings for Emmett were any indication of what I could have had all this time, I didn't want their definition of normal. Their normal had left me feeling broken and miserable my entire life, being with girls I had no feelings for just because they expected it of me. Because they brainwashed me into believing their way was the right way. The only way.

Well, fuck them. And fuck normal.