CHAPTER 12:

Marcus turned away, running a hand through his hair. What did he see? A young woman who challenged him at every turn. Someone who made him laugh, made him think, made him feel things he'd thought died with Cynthia. Someone who was far too perceptive for her own good, who saw through every defense he put up.

"I see someone who is too smart for her own good," Marcus said finally. "Someone who's brave and stubborn and—" He stopped without looking at her.

"And what?" Emma prompted.

"And mature," Marcus finished quietly. "Far more mature than you have any right to be at eighteen."

The word hung in the air between them.

Mature.

Emma went very still. Marcus heard her sharp intake of breath, felt the shift in the atmosphere like the change in air pressure before a storm.

"Say that again," Emma whispered.

Marcus turned to face her, confused by her reaction. "What?"

"You think I'm mature," Emma said slowly, her eyes locked on his. "Not young. Not naive. Not a child. Mature."

Too late, Marcus realized his mistake. He'd given her exactly what she needed, validation. Acknowledgment. Permission.

"Emma, I didn't mean—"

"Yes, you did," she said, moving toward him with purpose now. "You meant it. You see me as an equal, not as Lily's young friend. Not as some kid. As someone who—"

"Stop," Marcus commanded, but there was no force behind it.

"As someone you're attracted to," Emma finished, now standing directly in front of him. "As someone you want."

"This is dangerous," Marcus breathed.

"I know," Emma said, her eyes dark with something that made Marcus's blood run hot. "But you just admitted it. You see me as mature enough to know what I want. So stop running from this, Marcus. Stop running from me."

Marcus's hands clenched into fists at his sides, every muscle in his body screaming conflicting commands. Run. Stay. Push her away. Pull her close. Be responsible. Be reckless.

"If we do this—" he started.

"If?" Emma interrupted, a small smile playing at her lips. "Not when?"

"If," Marcus insisted firmly. "If we even entertain this insanity, everything changes. Everything gets complicated. Lily, our friendship, your future—"

"I don't care," Emma said simply.

"You should," Marcus said desperately. "You should care about all of it. You should walk away right now and find someone your own age who can give you—"

"I don't want someone my own age," Emma interrupted. "I want you."

The words hit Marcus like a physical blow. He stared at her, this woman who was somehow both impossibly young and impossibly old, who looked at him like he was the only man in the world worth seeing.

"This is going to end badly," Marcus said hoarsely.

"Maybe," Emma agreed, her hand reaching up to touch his face. "Or maybe it's going to be the best thing that ever happened to either of us."

Marcus's resolve crumbled as her fingers traced the line of his jaw. His hand came up without conscious thought, covering hers, pressing it against his cheek.

"We can't tell Lily," he said, his last defense falling.

Emma's eyes widened, hope and triumph warring in their depths. "Are you saying—"

"I'm saying I don't know what I'm saying anymore," Marcus admitted. "I'm saying you've made me crazy. I'm saying this is the worst idea either of us has ever had, and I—"

Suddenly, the front door opened. Lily walks in.

"Hello? We're back!" Lily's cheerful voice carried through the house. "Jake's here! We brought ice cream!"

Marcus and Emma sprang apart like guilty teenagers, putting several feet of distance between them. Marcus's heart hammered against his ribs, his face flushed, his breathing uneven.

Emma looked similarly disheveled, her eyes wide and her lips parted. She stared at Marcus across the space between them, and in her gaze, he saw a promise that terrified him:

*This conversation isn't over.*

Lily appeared in the doorway, Jake following behind her with grocery bags. "There you guys are! We got rocky road and—" She stopped, looking between her father and her best friend. "Is everything okay? You both look weird."

"Fine," Marcus said too quickly. "We were just... talking."

"About what?" Lily asked innocently, moving to the outdoor table.

Emma's eyes never left Marcus's face as she answered, her voice steady and sure:

"About desire."

Marcus's blood turned to ice. Lily laughed, completely missing the loaded meaning behind the word.

"Ugh, Dad's probably boring you with his lectures on following your dreams again, isn't he?" Lily rolled her eyes affectionately. "He does that to everyone."

"Something like that," Emma said softly, still watching Marcus.

But Marcus knew the truth. The word Emma had spoken, desire wasn't about dreams or ambition or any safe topic, Lily assumed.

It was about them. About the dangerous, impossible want that had just shifted from possibility into inevitability.

And as Emma smiled at him across the porch, Marcus realized with sinking certainty that he'd just crossed a line he could never uncross.

The only question now was: how far would they fall before the damage became irreparable?

Lily and Jake walked up the stairs as their sound of footsteps echoed up the staircase, their laughter fading as they disappeared into the upper floor of the house. Emma sat on the edge of the couch, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, acutely aware of Marcus standing by the side. The air between them felt heavy with unspoken words.

Marcus turned to face her, opening his mouth to speak, when the front door suddenly creaked open.

"Marcus?" a familiar female voice called out cheerfully. "Are you home?"

Emma's stomach dropped as Sarah stepped into the living room, her high heels clicking against the hardwood floor.

Sarah was Marcus's ex-neighbour friend. What's she doing here? Emma's heart begins pounding.