Fortuitous {WLW}

Chapter Nineteen: The Sleepover Pt. 2

Emerson's POV:

I slowly let out a shaky breath, not wanting Saylor to hear me as I put my shirt on. I'm doing my best not to turn around as I unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the ground, stepping out of them and placing them to the side.

I wipe the bit of sweat that formed on my palms off on my briefs, refusing to turn around.

As a lesbian, I have always been overly cautious about my actions around women, not wanting them to feel uncomfortable in sharing the same spaces as me. I never wanted them to assume I was sexualizing  them or had the same intents men would in my position, even to someone like Saylor, who is interested in me.

I have control, enough to keep myself focused on the wall in front of me.

"Tell me when you're ready." I state.

I hear some shuffling and as much as my curiosity is killing me, I close my eyes tightly to fight the urge to look.

I don't have permission to look at her body, therefore I won't.

"I'm ready." She says timidly.

I wait a few seconds before turning around, her wearing a baggy t-shirt that almost looks like it's 2x her size and some comfy shorts underneath that are hardly presentable.

I feel my breath get caught in my throat as I look at her, bare faced and yet so beautiful effortlessly. She's breathtaking, in whatever form she presents.

I notice as she grows self-conscious under my gaze, her arms crossing over her abdomen to hide herself as she sits down on the bed, "I didn't expect to be sharing a bed with you, so I didn't pack super nice pajamas."

I smirk, "I think your pajamas look stunning."

Her smile grows on her face as she shakes her head, "lying isn't a good look on you, Emerson."

I arch my brow, "I'm not the one who lies."

We both slightly giggle as we situate ourselves on the bed, on total opposite ends and as far as possible.

I'm scared to touch her and make it seem too forward, while she's probably just nervous and doesn't really know what to do.

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling while Saylor lays on her side, staring out the window. Nothing to be heard but the slight hum of the fan in the corner of the room.

This moment takes me back, to all the awkward sleepovers I had in middle school, one's where I was far too cautious of my actions to actually have fun.

I was scared of how I would be perceived to a point that I believe that I made myself an outcast. I kept myself closed off in fear and the only person that was stubborn enough to break through was Tate, but that's probably because she was just as weird as me.

Tate was and always has been a bit much for others, her being unable to hide her emotions and thoughts. She's brutally honest and sometimes honesty hurts.

Some would rather have the comfort of a lie than hear the uncomfortable truth. I would rather be uncomfortable and know the truth than live in a false perception of myself and the world around me. I'm not like my sister in that sense.

"Emerson?" I hear Saylor ask quietly.

"Yeah?" I answer, my head tilting to face her as the bed shifts and she turns to face me.

Saylor's blue eyes flicker along my face as she debates carefully on what words she wants to say.

"What's your favorite Halloween movie?" She asks.