"Where are you taking me?" Emma wondered, confused and mildly annoyed – she shouldn't have agreed when he'd offered to take her home.

"Just trust me." Alexander said, eyes on the road, only to then turn to her for a moment. He let out a short laugh. "Right," he said, eyes back to the street, "I forgot who was I talking to."

"It's not your place, is it?" She frowned.

"What if it was?" When he noticed her half upset, half disappointed look, he added: "It's not my place. I just have something to show you, that's all."

"Ok, but what?"

Alexander grinned. "Just ... trust me." When she rolled her eyes again, he went on: "I know, I know, trust is overrated ... but sometimes you just need to let someone help you."

Emma furrowed her eyebrows, befuddled. "What do you mean, help?"

"Hey, remember the last time we argued like this? What happened then?" He winked, well aware that the reminiscence of their first time together would silence her, at least for a few minutes. It was a dirty trick, he knew she would think back to it and reignite the sense of guilt she kept on feeling, but it was better than him caving and finally telling her where were they going. She would never accept.

Predictably, Emma went quiet, eyes on the road, but mind to 2 months before, that fatidic day that started it all, leading her on a morally ambiguous path she just didn't know how to get away from.

2 months ago

With a sigh, once out of the restaurant, Emma put on her jacket. There went the umpteenth job. Maybe Nancy was right, she was too uptight, she needed to be a bit more compliant. If every waitress slapped a client when he randomly grabbed her ass, there would be no waitresses. Just go along with it, Nancy always told her, it might even benefit you. But she just couldn't.

Sometimes, Emma pondered as she started walking away from the restaurant, being like Nancy would make things a lot easier, but it was clear that her friend had never been in the middle of a storm, unable to go back or forward.

Hiding her face behind her jacket, hands in its pockets, Emma decided to take a walk, clear her head. It was a warmish Sunday, which was unusual for a February in New York, but at least that meant Spring was on the way.

Emma didn't feel like seeing or talking to anyone, so she ignored the texts from Nancy. Not that she had much of a social life: she never lasted long enough in a workplace to make friends and she always kept to herself. It was safe to say that the only people she knew in the city were Nancy and her boyfriend.

Ugh, she grimaced. Alexander. Suck a prick. She had no idea what Nancy found in him, he was so full of himself. And the side glances he sent her? As if he were disgusted by the sole sight of her. Who did he think he was?

Emma walked past a bookstore, then went back, stopping at the front window. When you barely make ends meet, even something as simple as a book can become a luxury, she reminded herself. She'd just lost her job, rent was due soon, not to mention bills. But maybe just one? It would be worth skipping dinner. Or maybe she could just bask in the sense of liberation that even only touching a book, skimming through the pages, gave her. Yes, she would do that.

There was nothing particularly interesting about this place, just one more standard chain bookstore, and the immediate warm air that hit her when she entered – a mix between the heating system and the crowd inside – was almost suffocating. However, the moment she laid eyes on her objects of desires, Emma breathed in deeply, as if to take in the scent of all the books in the room. She'd never had many chances at reading, but the little she could, she harped on it.

Emma wandered along the aisles, not focusing on a specific book or genre, just content with being close enough to them. She stopped at the Classics section – the few works that had remained in her head were by long gone authors such as those she'd learnt about in school, before dropping out. The combination of music through her earphones and the scent of books was enough to make her feel just slightly better, not to mention forget about the cruel world outside for a few moments.

Roaming through the bookstore, Emma managed to forget that her life had no direction whatsoever, like it never had. Even the promise of a better future she'd dared believe in when she was with Daniel, years ago, seemed so far away now. Despite everything, Daniel had been a pleasant interval, probably the only one in her life. But like every interval, it was meant to end, and this one did in the worst possible way.

Allison Healy was long gone, she reminded herself. That girl was nothing but the ghost of a past she could not get away from, as the recent encounter with her ex had proved. She'd been different people over the years, but only Emma Hudson had stayed. She seemed persistent and more stubborn, yet all the same keen on making morally ambiguous mistakes as usual, only to once again find herself tangled in a web of lies and deceit. Maybe it was time to move on from this girl, too, shred her skin once more and hope for a better one.

Lost in her thoughts, Emma absentmindedly bumped into someone. "Sorry." She murmured, eyes on the books. It didn't matter how many people crowded the place, all that mattered was the sense of freedom that even only being among those pages gave her.

Feeling someone touch her shoulder, she turned, frowning. When she saw him, it was difficult not to groan out loud. Slipping off her earphones, Emma didn't even bother to fake a smile. "Hi." She greeted flatly.

"Come on, hide the disgust, at least." Alexander laughed, unnerving her.

"I don't know what you mean."

"You don't like me, Emma, I know that, which is fair," he shrugged, "I don't like you much either."

She sent him a dirty look. "Then you could have easily pretended you didn't see me."

"Well, Nancy wants us to get along, so ..." he shrugged.

Emma plugged in one earphone. "We don't always get what we want." She stated. "Bye, Alex." She put extra emphasis on the nickname, well aware that he hated it. It was stupid, she thought, Alex was the most common abbreviation for his name, him forcing everyone to use the full one was just proof that he was a conceited prick, Emma scoffed to herself as she got out of the bookstore. Maybe a library would be better – at least she could read for free there. But libraries were always full of students, which made her long for a different life she could never reach.

"The thing is, I really want to try." Alexander caught her right outside.

She sighed, stuffing her hands into the coat's pockets. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Why not?" Noticing how she rolled her eyes, he added: "Come on, you don't even really know me ... I'm told I'm a nice guy. You can't have simply made up your mind to hate me forever. I've done nothing to you."

Emma pursed her lips. They hadn't been in the same room long enough for her to hate him for a valid reason other than a general dislike. It was just a conditioned response based on her history with men. "Fine." She sighed. "I'll try to like you in the future. Better?"

He smiled, and she had to admit that it was a nice sight – damn sexy devil. "How about we go get coffee?"

"I'm really not in the mood, I-"

"That's one more reason. You can get your mind off of your troubles for a few minutes."

"Of course, you were right." Alexander frowned, stirring his coffee, once she'd told him about her latest mishap with a client. "I'd have reacted the same way."

"Yeah, well, the fact remains that I got fired. Again." Emma sighed, then took a sip of her coffee. Days like these, she yearned for something stronger, like a vodka. Then she reminded herself that alcohol had gotten her in trouble one time too many and she couldn't go back. Then again, she couldn't even afford a drink, even only coffee and cheesecake had been a mistake.

"You can always find another job." Alexander pointed out simply.

She snorted. "Easy for you to say."

"Why? You're young and hot, I don't think there are many doors that would be slammed in your face."

"What's beauty got to with this?" Emma narrowed her eyes at him, albeit knowing the answer all too well.

"Come on," he laughed, "you're 28, I don't need to be the one to tell you just how much beauty counts in this world, do I? Especially in your line of work." Noticing her arched eyebrow, he added: "Waitresses need to be ... extra kind to clients, for better tips, if you know what I mean."

"You sound like Nancy." Emma muttered.

"Let me guess," he chuckled, "she said you should comply more."

The young woman nodded, at the same time wondering whether she should cancel the cheesecake order or not. "She says I might benefit from it."

"You probably would," Alexander shrugged, "but would you be able to live with it?"

"You'd be surprised how much I can live with." Emma blurted out without thinking, only to then regret it. His fiery gaze fixated on her, quizzical, making her swallow hard. "Either way, I need a new job."

"Believe me, with that pretty face, you can find a job in no time." He said. "It's just about the quality."

"In my life, I've only ever been a waitress or a store clerk."

"So? That doesn't mean you can't learn something new."

Emma rolled her eyes. He was gonna go off a rant about the importance of education and adapting, wasn't he? Maybe he and Nancy were meant to be, after all, they said the same things. Then again, in a way, he was right, but it wasn't as easy as he made it sound.

Sometimes she felt like a hamster frantically chasing freedom yet never being able to get off that senseless wheel. Maybe she was just meant to remain stuck, halfway between a past she couldn't get rid of, and a future she couldn't reach.

"Tell you what, why don't we"-" before he could finish, his phone rang. "Hey, Nancy." He answered quickly.

At the name, Emma shuddered, her eyes widening. For a moment, she felt dirty – she was out drinking coffee with her friend's boyfriend while Nancy was entirely unaware of it. Would she think bad? The young lawyer seemed to be extremely possessive when it came to her 'Alex'.

"I'm with Emma," Alexander told her instead, "we bumped into each other at the bookstore, and decided to grab a coffee together, have a little chat."

Case in point, Emma thought. His girlfriend was questioning his whereabouts. In the end, there was no need to lie, Nancy may be quite the jealous girlfriend, but she didn't deem Emma a threat.

"Yeah, why not?" Alexander said on the phone, which he then covered with his hand. "Nancy says there's an interesting show at the Met, it's the last day. Wanna go?"

Emma looked at him as if he'd suddenly grown three heads. Was he serious? Sure, Nancy didn't deem her a threat, but what guy in his sane mind would ask another girl out while his overjealous girlfriend was within hearing range? "Uh ... I ... I don't really like art." She lied. Art was the only passion she'd ever lingered in, besides books. Back in the day she even used to paint.

"Here, Nancy wants to talk to you." Alexander said, handing her the phone.

Emma swallowed, taking it. Whether she accepted or not, her friend would want a detailed recount, and she had no intention of getting into that kind of drama. "Hey, I just told Alexander I don't like art, also I'm feeling tired, I'll just go home, and-"

"It's a great idea, isn't it?" Nancy cut her off, as if she hadn't heard a word of her excuses.

"What?" Emma was more than baffled, she couldn't believe her ears.

"You guys can get to know each other a bit better, and ..." her friend cleared her throat, "you can also keep an eye on him."

"I ..."

"I know, I know, you disapprove." Nancy heaved an overdramatic sigh. "It's not that I don't trust him, Em, it's just that he's so hot and there are so many hoes in this city. How can I be sure?"

Asking your friend to spend time with your boyfriend in order to keep an eye on him while you're out of town is the opposite of trust, Emma would have wanted to say, but she kept it. Then again, maybe, despite Nancy's incredibly recounts of their romance, Alexander had given her reason to doubt him.

"Come on, just this once. Please?" The young woman on the phone used her persuasive voice.

Emma sighed. Last thing she needed was to be a third wheel in their relationship. She knew Nancy, whatever happened, the consequences would be nothing short of dramatic. Besides, she could barely afford food, imagine an art show at one of the most famous museums in New York. "I'd rather stay at home tonight, to be honest."

"Even better!" Nancy exclaimed, seemingly excited. "You guys can eat pizza and watch Netflix or something. That way I'll be sure there's not some skanky hoe rubbing against my boyfriend. I can pay you, if you want. I know you need the money."

Emma frowned, amazed at her friend's bluntness and at the same time mildly offended. The sole fact that Nancy would even think of buying her off like that was insulting. Immediately, however, something reminded her that she had sold herself before, this wouldn't be a first.

Emma shook her head. No, it was different. Selling her body to avoid starving was one, having her jealous friend pay her to be a babysitter for her boyfriend was a whole other. Nancy could be so insensitive, sometimes, more often than not, she rubbed her wealth in her face and expected her to keep up, do the same things, without taking in consideration the different odds.

Emma hated this side of their friendship. The side where Nancy took her for granted, thinking that where loyalty didn't arrive, money could. Being broke didn't entail having no pride or dignity. On the contrary, if there was one thing Emma Hudson differed from the other girls she had been, was exactly the fierce attachment to her dignity, to the promise she had made to herself to not ever stoop as low as selling her body again.

"I didn't know being an architect paid so well," Emma commented when she entered his apartment, still somewhat regretting having accepted Nancy's demand.

"Maybe I'm secretly in the mafia." Alexander joked, closing the door behind him, at the same time balancing the two boxes of pizza in his other hand. Because she didn't laugh, he added: "Yes, being an architect pays well."

"So, how much is it?" Emma asked when she sat down and he put the pizza boxes on the coffee table.

"Uh ... over 100 thousand per year, more if I get big fat projects, which, humbly, I do, clients love me."

"No ..." she rolled her eyes, "how much is it for the pizza?"

"Oh ... don't worry about it." He said, grabbing some glasses. "Uh ... I'm assuming you don't want beer, so ... soda? A friend of mine is 5 years sober, I always keep soda here for him when he comes over."

"Yes to the soda, but no to the don't worry about it." Emma arched an eyebrow. "You already paid for my coffee and cheesecake, despite my protests. How much do I owe you for the pizza?"

Alexander laughed. "Nothing."

"I'm serious."

"Me too." He handed her a can of soda, keeping the beer bottle for him. "Take it as a conditioned reflex. I'm so used to paying for the girl, it came out spontaneous."

"I doubt you pay for Nancy." Emma pointed out, placing the soda on the table.

He laughed. "Oh, no, she's quite ... modern in that sense. Actually, more often than not, she pays for me."

"And you're okay with it?"

He shrugged, scrolling through the Netflix catalogue in search of a movie to watch. "Why not? She likes expensive things, I don't like wasting my money. She may have been born rich, but I've worked my ass off to get where I am now. If she wants to pay, who am I to disagree? It's her money."

Emma hugged her knees, watching him. "Well, last time I offered to pay lunch for my date, he got all mad and claimed I was insulting him. I thought it was a guy thing."

Alexander laughed, uncapping his beer. "I'll tell you a secret, Hudson. We hate paying for dinners and all that crap. We only do it because it might help us hit jackpot, if you know what I mean ..." he winked.

She rolled her eyes. "If that is true, then I'm supposed to think you're trying to get into my pants, since you paid for everything today."

He laughed again, shrugging, "touché," he said, before taking a sip of his beer.

Emma found it hard not to follow him. He had a contagious laugh, she had to admit. However, one thing was certain: Alexander wasn't simply a stereotypical bad boy, with his ragged beauty. If anything, he was the exact opposite. Proof that appearances deceive, she reminded herself. "Either way, I prefer not to have debts." She said, reaching for her bag.

"It's just pizza, Emma."

"Still. Where's the receipt?" She scanned the table, in search of the piece of paper.

"I threw it away. Now just eat your pizza."

"Oh, come on ..."

"What is it with you independent women?" Alexander laughed. "Just because a man pays for your dinner, doesn't mean he's tying you down for life. It's not like you're gonna owe me forever now."

"I like to pay for my own food." She said proudly, standing up to look for the receipt.

"You just lost your job." He pointed out.

"And?" She got on her knees to search under the sofa, shooing away his feet.

"So ... you need all the money you can save." He pointed out, rolling his eyes.

Her cheeks pink, Emma sat up for a moment, embarrassed. "I ... I can pay for my food."

He scoffed. "Oh please, you spent five minutes trying to decide whether you really needed a cheesecake or not. Clearly, you can't afford spending without a reason." Before she could speak, he added: "And there's nothing wrong with that, Emma. Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt." He shrugged, putting down his beer. Strong-headed women, he mentally scoffed, all the same, all so stubborn.

She frowned, unsure what he meant. She knew nothing about him, especially not who he was before starting to date Nancy, but she'd never guessed he came from humble origins like her. She'd always assumed he was a trust fund baby like his girlfriend. "So maybe you understand," she admitted, eyeing him carefully.

"That it's not about the money but about pride?" Alexander filled in. "Yeah, of course." He laughed. "But you know, friends also offer dinner to each other."

"We're not friends, though, are we?" She pointed out without thinking.

"Not yet." He shrugged, standing up at the same time as she did. Reaching for his back pocket, he took out the receipt, showing it to her. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to carve it out of my cold dead hands." He mocked, taking a step back.

"Alex, come on ..." She said, launching to take the receipt. It was embarrassing and annoying, why didn't he understand?

He froze, which caused her to nearly lose her balance. "Don't call me that. I hate it." He grimaced.

"Nancy calls you that." Emma shrugged.

"Nancy is stubborn."

"What's so wrong about Alex?"

His jaw clenched. "I just don't like it."