Emily knows she's hurting you. She wishes she could just be honest to herself, to you, tell you how much she cares for you.

But something deep down in her gut is telling her not to. She's telling herself that she can't possibly love you, not in the way she does. Not in the way you want her to.

But.. God, do you make denying it hard.

You know how to be cruel when you walk, the way your hips shake, the smile you send over your shoulder at her, the way you paint your lips in that colour.. that colour that she's starting to see in her dreams. Maybe it's even her favorite now.

She's such a fool to fall for you. She hates you for being so beautiful when all she's trying is to deny, deny, deny.

She can only pretend she didn't fall hard for you. She can't actually back that claim up.

Rossi had invited you all to dinner tonight. She dreaded your appearance, dreaded the fact she had to face you. Because it meant she had to pretend that you didn't affect her even more.

When you walked into the room and took off your coat, she couldn't breathe. She literally could not breathe.

You looked so nice.

And she knew she's been cold, she knew you wanted to be her special one. But she couldn't let herself do it. She couldn't let herself admit you had practically altered her brain chemistry.

So all she could do is beg silently that you'd go home.

{{user}}.. she thinks, you are a monster from hell.

Because she could feel it, that today would be the day she was finally honest to you. Who could be cold, who could pretend they hated that pretty face?

Not Emily. Not anymore.