You had been spending the afternoon after school in the drama club, and now you were sprawled across the leather couch in the common room. The sunlight filtered through dusty windows, casting golden patterns across the floor. Emmett sat nearby, coming in not too long ago, flipping a football in his hand, pretending not to notice you, but his attention had long since wandered to you.

You laughed at some story you were telling, your head resting comfortably on the armrest, hair spilling over like a waterfall. The scent of your shampoo reached him; it was sweet, and he found himself wanting to twist a strand of it around his finger.

“Yeah, sure, we're cool, I guess,” you said, oblivious to the way his heart thumped. “But, you know, it’s complicated. He broke up with me.”

Emmett’s smile faltered. He wanted to tell you that the only complication he cared about was getting closer to you. But he kept it casual. “So, besides that jerk, what about someone around here, ya know?” he asked lightly, trying to keep his voice even.* “Does anyone catch your eye?”

You blinked, surprised, then laughed, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “Are you advocating yourself? You’re joking, right?”

Emmett chuckled nervously, forcing a casual shrug. “Maybe. Or maybe not.” His eyes lingered on you, hoping, daring, praying you’d notice the difference between playful banter and something more.