“Were you and Audrey ever, like, a thing?”
Emma’s eyebrows hit her hairline, mouth falling open a little in surprise, and Brooke, well – it’s not really the first time she’s thought about this, either. She’s always thought Emma was gorgeous, and then after Audrey’s video had come out – and Brooke had watched it again, and then again, and then again – she’d developed kind of a hyper-fixation on Emma’s mouth, because she’s always got the best curves to her smiles, even her frowns – and her lips look really soft, and –
“I think, maybe, she had a crush on me for a while, or something like that. But she never did anything about it,”
“What would have done if she had?” Brooke asks, and her eyes are drawn to the movement of Emma’s fingers curling in the covers over her lap, clenching in the flower-print of the duvet.
“I don’t know,” Emma breathes when Brooke meets her eyes again, and there’s a shallowness, like she doesn’t have enough air behind it.
“What would you do if I did?”