“Avery, I gotta go,” Emma said. She ended the call. Swallowed. “Hi.”
“Chai,” Jo said, thrusting one of the drinks toward her. “If you want.”
Emma wanted to be mad. She wanted to ignore Jo the way Jo had ignored her all day.
She took the chai instead.
“Do you want to—”
“Can I—”
They both started, stopped. Jo laughed nervously.
Emma looked down the hallway like there would be paparazzi inside her apartment building.
“Come in,” she said then, taking a step back and pulling the door open wider.
“Thank you,” Jo said.
She only came far enough inside for Emma to close the door behind her. Emma had no idea what she was doing here. She was so used to making things easier for Jo, she almost wanted to start the conversation herself. But she deserved better than that. Better than Jo ignoring her all day, then randomly showing up at her apartment with nothing to say.
“I haven’t stopped—since Saturday night—all I can think about—” Jo started three different sentences and didn’t finish a single one.
“Come,” Emma said. “Sit down.”
She led Jo to the kitchen island, and they sat on stools next to each other. Emma took a sip of her drink, then set it down. She swirled liquid around instead of looking at Jo.
“This is a terrible idea,” Jo said.
Emma’s heart did a swan dive. She thought if Jo was here, it meant—she’d been moping since she handed Jo her coffee this morning, and she thought Jo being here was going to change that, but—
“I kept telling myself all the reasons it’s a bad idea,” Jo said. “Since Saturday. Since my dad visited. You’re too young and I’m too old and I don’t even have any idea how to be in a relationship and you work for me and, and, and.”
“Right,” Emma said. She hopped off her stool. She had to get Jo out of her apartment before she cried. She took three steps toward the door. “Well, thanks for the chai. I’ll see you—”
“Emma.”
Jo caught her by the wrist, slid off her stool, and came to stand in front of her.
“Can I kiss you again?”
“Wh-what?”
Emma’s eyes bounced from Jo’s gaze to her lips to her eyes again. Her breath hiccupped and she didn’t have any words, but she nodded, so suddenly that she might’ve pulled a muscle, and then Jo was kissing her. Jo was kissing her and it was just like last time in how soft andperfectit was, but it was also nothing like last time, because Jo put her hands on Emma’s hips, held on when Emma’s knees went weak.
When Jo pulled away, she didn’t go far. They were still close enough to breathe each other’s air.
“So you don’t hate me for kissing you?” Emma said.
Jo chuckled, bumping her nose against Emma’s. “Not much chance of that, no.”
She kissed her again.
This kiss was longer, deeper. Jo’s tongue brushed Emma’s, and asthma really was the best metaphor for their relationship—Emma wasn’t sure she was ever going to be able to breathe normally again. Her arms were draped over Jo’s shoulders. Even still in her heels from work, Jo was shorter than Emma.
“Do you... we could order food or something?” Emma said.
Jo looked like she was going to say yes, like she was saying yes to theor something, the way she had to drag her eyes from Emma’s lips.