Lost and Found: Book One of the Emi Lost & Found Series

by Lori L. Otto

  I had wondered if the conversation Emi and I had earlier was about us… had hoped it was, thought it was, even. But things are becoming crystal clear that they were most definitely not.

  He knows an Emi that I do not. He knows her as someone that she is not. Her words invade my thoughts now. She had led him to believe she was someone else. He seemed to be enjoying himself… with her… What was she getting herself into?

  Knowing I have to talk to her, I rush back to the suite. She’s telling Teresa goodbye as he stands behind her, kissing her neck… her beautiful, porcelain neck.

  “Colin’s going to take me home,” Emi says as I approach her. I just shake my head, unbelieving.

  “Em, can I talk to you for a second?” His big arm across her chest, he pulls her back into his body and takes her earlobe in his mouth.

  “We gotta go,” he says loudly enough for me to hear. He glances up at me, his glare threatening. She giggles and squirms in his arms, his tongue tickling her neck. I can’t believe I’m watching this happen.

  “Just for a second, okay?” I ask her, not him.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” she mouths to me.

  I have no doubt that she can see the flash of jealousy in my eyes. Just as I have no doubt of the uncertainty in hers.

  He throws his arm around her shoulder as they walk out. His body dwarfs hers, makes her look even more fragile. I just stand, stunned.

  “What the fuck?” I ask Teresa, still staring at the emptiness.

  “Another shot?” she asks.

  “You know I don’t want that,” I look at her.

  “I know you don’t want it. I think you need it.” I hate that I do. The need scares me, but I nod to her, and quickly swallow the disgusting drink when she hands it to me.

  “One more round,” she tells the bartender. I drink again, then sit down on one of the barstools. Emi’s roommate pulls another stool closer and sits down next to me.

  The alcohol is quick to take affect on my body, more particularly my mind. I don’t remember the last time I felt this way– it’s probably been years. I sigh loudly and take my head into my hands.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Can’t focus,” I tell her.

  “You’re a lightweight,” she laughs, putting her hand on my shoulder.

  “I don’t drink, remember?” I mumble.

  “Yes, I do remember.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Another shot,” she says to the bartender.

  “I–”

  “And some water for this guy,” she adds. I nod silently.

  “Tell me what just happened here,” I request of her after our drinks are served.

  “You were used, it seems… . you were apparently the backup plan. She didn’t know if he would show up, and she knew you’d have fun, like you always do. But give her a break, okay? She never lets go like this. It’s good for her.”

  “He’s good for her?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “It as in… great, yeah. Great,” I mumble, taking her shot and downing it, quickly.

  “That was mine,” she laughs.

  “I needed it worse. I’ll get you another.”

  “It’s okay. Nate?”

  “What?”

  “You should tell her there’s something better… show her there’s someone better.”

  “That all may be true, but I don’t think it’s my place to tell her, or to show her. I don’t know that I’m that person,” I rationalize, then pause. “But him? I mean… him? We made fun of pricks like that in high school.”

  “Pricks like that can have their perks. It’s just for fun,” Teresa reasons with me. “I don’t think they’ll be married anytime soon.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Nate, she has needs, too.”

  “Are we really talking about this? About her?”

  “Why not? Seems you have some sort of double standard going on. Why do you get to fuck who you want, and not her?”

  I laugh at her bluntness, but am quickly reminded of the seriousness of our conversation. “Because it’s Emi.”

  “Emi is an adult, and Emi is not yours. And sorry, but yes, I think it’ll do her some good to get laid. This is what she wants right now. And as her friend, I’m going to support her decisions.”

  “They’re bad decisions,” I argue.

  “They won’t hurt anyone.”

  “They could hurt her.”

  “She’s a big girl, Nate. You have two choices. Go after her, or let her go.” She puts her hand on mine, looking sincerely into my eyes. “And since you’re not willing to go after her… ” I shake my head, not wanting to face the rejection she would likely deliver to me. I don’t want this. I can still hear her soft voice speaking the words… words that she likely doesn’t even remember saying.

  “He seems more your type,” I tell her casually.

  “I’m insulted by that. I like guys with a little more depth. He’s very one-dimensional.” I run my fingers through my hair.

  “Depth,” I consider.

  “Plus, he’s into the little petite girls, that bitch,” she jokes. “I’m too much of a woman for him.” I scan her body, not overweight by any means, just curvy, beautiful.

  “I imagine you’re too much of a woman for most men to handle,” I smile at her. “You’re very pretty. And very sensual,” I add with a whisper into her ear.

  “Oh, boy,” she laughs, leaning in closer to me. “Tell me more.”

  “You don’t need me to tell you. You know you’re sexy. All those men Emi tells me about that you bring back to the apartment tell you that all the time. You’re trouble on legs, is what you are. Your full lips… your breasts… your hips… ”

  “Trouble, huh?” she says breathily.

  “Definite trouble.” I tug gently on a strand of her long brown hair, wrapping it around my finger, pulling her head closer to mine. “Come back to my place,” I suggest. “I want to know what all the fuss is about.”

  “You’re drunk,” she smiles, wavering.

  “I know. But you know you want to.”

  “I’m not your backup plan.” Her eyes, parted lips betray her. “Plus, Emi would kill us both. She’d probably get super-jock to help. And you’d never have a chance with her. Ever.”

  That’s all she had to say to clear my head. I stumble as I stand up. “You’re right. I’m gonna take off.”

  “You didn’t drive here, did you?”

  “Subway.”

  “Okay… and Nate?”

  “What?” I say, frustrated, putting on my coat.

  “Just know that saying no to you wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done. But I do it for her.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And we don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

  “Again, thank you.”

  I stop by a pub near the arena before going home. The last thing I want to do right now is go home alone. Not when I know she’s out there with someone else, know that he’s doing things with her that I’ve only done in my dreams.

  I spot an exotic looking woman across the room sitting at a large table with a bunch of other women. It’s obvious they’ve been here awhile based on the amount of empty glasses in front of them. It’s impossible to stop looking at her: perfect figure, perfect breasts, perfect smile, light brown skin, long curly black hair, sultry eyes, full lips. She doesn’t notice me until one of her friends points me out.

  She raises her brow and smiles at me. She stands up and walks to the bar alone. On her way there, she glances over her shoulder at me for the briefest of seconds. I take that as my queue, messing up my hair just a bit before following her.

  As she waits for the bartender at the crowded counter, I stand behind her, barely touching her, and whisper in her ear. “I’ve been watching you all night.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” she teases, turning her body to face me.

  “Well, I can’t keep my eyes off you. You�
��re easily the most beautiful woman here.” I drag my fingers over her neck and bare shoulder. “I’m not sure I can keep my hands off you, either.”

  She cocks her head, clearly open to my advances.

  “What are you drinking?” she asks, adjusting the collar of my jacket and letting her hand lightly graze my chest and stomach before dropping to her side.

  “I’m not. I was just about to get out of here.”

  “I thought you couldn’t keep your eyes off me… and you’re going to leave? Where are you going?”

  “Hopefully somewhere I don’t have to keep my hands off you,” I say in her ear, kissing her cheek slowly. “Do you live nearby?”

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?”

  “Not when I see something I want. But I can draw this out for you, if you want to play that game.”

  “I’m not one for games,” she smiles. “What’s your name?”

  “Nate,” I extend my hand to her.

  “Eva,” she says back, shaking it. “Let’s get out of here.”

  I’m a little amazed at how easy that was. The second the door to her apartment closes, we begin tearing each others clothes off, our lips and tongues hungry, needing.

  We somehow make it to her king-sized bed. She lies back, her ample breasts accentuating her trim waistline and womanly hips, a true hourglass figure. I crawl onto the bed behind her as she leans on her side, pulling a box of condoms out of her night stand and setting it next to her on the white down comforter, the blanket a beautiful contrast to her dark skin.

  I pull one out, but as soon as I do, she takes it from me and pushes me back onto the bed, climbing over me to put it on herself, kissing me along the way. Once it’s in place, she kneels over me and turns around on her bed, one leg still on either side of my body. Her long hair, already tangled from the eager work of my hands, falls just below her waistline. I touch her back, then grab her waist firmly as she peers over her shoulder at me, lowering her body onto me, burying myself into her, deeper.

  “Oh, shit… fuck… ohhhh,” I sigh at the warmth, the tight muscles, the feel of her around me. I guide her hips, but it’s clear this woman knows what she’s doing. I notice the mirror on the opposing wall, notice her watching us in it. I prop myself up on my elbows, staring in awe at her reflection as she touches herself, her breasts, making arousing sounds, louder and louder, as she nears orgasm. As I feel her constrict around me, I lean up further, pulling her back into my chest, taking her breast in my hand and kissing her neck as she screams obscenities, riding it out. I can’t hold out any longer.

  “Um… hey.” I’m awoken by someone pushing on my chest, my head pounding. I roll away from the disturbance, try to find a position that doesn’t make me want to rid my body of all the alcohol I fed it last night.

  “Um… I’m sorry,” she says. “I don’t remember your name.” Sleep gone, awareness sets in quickly. Fuck.

  “Nate,” I say, finding it difficult to open my eyes, not wanting to admit what I’ve done. Finally I do, seeing the beautiful stranger in the unfamiliar apartment. “Oh, god,” I say, nauseous, clearly hung over but a bit disgusted with myself as I realize I don’t know her name, either. “Shit,” I moan, unable to move. “Where am I?”

  “You’re at my apartment, and you really have to leave.”

  “What?”

  “My boyfriend is on his way over. You have to go, Nate.”

  “I can’t even get up,” I tell her.

  “Well, you’re going to have to. Come on.” She starts to push me toward the edge of her bed.

  “Fuck,” I groan, annoyed, rolling out of her bed, faced with the reflection of both of us, naked, in the mirror. I remember watching her as we had sex last night. My hand aches to cup her breast again. God, she is incredibly sexy. I sit back on the bed, my legs unsteady and my head even worse. I lean over, putting my head in my hands. My mouth starts to water as I feel the distinct need to throw up. I swallow, hard.

  “You can’t stay, Nate, I’m sorry. He’ll be here any minute.” She stands up and pulls me up, causing me to stumble into her, my hand getting its wish. “Oh, Nate,” she sighs, pulling me to her, to kiss her. “I had an incredible night.”

  “Yeah, me, too,” I say the first thing that comes to mind, just trying to keep my balance. I take a few deep breaths and begin the search in her apartment for my clothes. She pulls on some pajamas, then helps me get dressed, mainly holding my body steady while I try to figure out the mess of shirt sleeves and pant legs. She hands me my phone before unlocking her door.

  “I needed that,” she says. “Thank you.”

  “Ummm… ” I mumble, the pain in my head making it difficult to form words. “Can I get your number?” I ask, more out of obligation than anything else.

  “No,” she apologizes. “I have a boyfriend… remember?”

  “Right. Okay, then. You’re welcome.”

  She looks through the peephole, then cracks the door and looks down the hallway before guiding me out the door.

  “Bye,” she says wistfully. I just continue walking in a stupor to the elevator. As I wait for the car to arrive on her floor, I check my phone for any messages.

  I had the most amazing night… :D Thanks for coming with me to the game. Call me later.

  Damn her and damn her amazing night. I can barely remember anything from last night… I remember the sex was good, but I couldn’t describe it as an amazing night with… God, what was her name?

  The door opens, and a conservative looking man in a suit and glasses exits the car, inspecting me. He’s holding a cell phone to his ear. “Eva, baby,” he says. “I’m here.”

  Shit. Eva. Like a coward, I hurry into the elevator and push the button repeatedly to close the doors. What have I done?

  I barely make it out of her building before doubling over and throwing up in the bushes out front. Fuck. Where the fuck am I? I curse the sun, shielding my eyes with my hands as I look upward at the street signs. Am I in the fucking Bronx? Seriously? How did I get here? I immediately start flailing my arms at the first available taxi. It pulls over quickly and I stumble into the backseat.

  “Fifty-second and Park,” I mumble.

  “Rough night?” the driver asks. I glance into the rearview mirror and glare at him and his stupid fucking question, the motion making me nauseous. When he abruptly stops at an intersection, I open the door and throw up in the street. “Shit, get out,” he orders me, putting the cab in park.

  “Seriously, man, I’m fine,” I tell him.

  “Get out,” he repeats. “You’re not puking in my cab.”

  “Fuck you,” I mumble to myself as I slowly climb out. I indiscriminately throw a bill in the backseat before slamming the door. The driver peels away from the curb.

  I sit down on a nearby stoop and pull my phone out of my pocket.

  Her perky voice greets me immediately. “Hey, Nate!”

  “Em,” I mumble. “Are you busy?”

  “Not really,” she answers.

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes… ”

  “Can you do me a huge favor?” I ask. Beg.

  “Sure, what?”

  “I am in the Bronx. And I need to get home. And I’m too sick to do anything but sit on this stoop and look at the cracks in the pavement. The fucking cabbie kicked me out of the car.”

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  “I’m sick,” I gloss over my condition.

  “How’d you get to the Bronx?”

  “I’ll explain everything later.” No, I won’t. “Can you go to my apartment and get my car? And come get me?”

  “Nate, I can’t drive,” she protests.

  “You can,” I argue. “I helped you study for the driving test… twice because you failed it the first time. I taught you how to parallel park. I made you laugh hysterically when they took your picture and you hated me for years for ruining your ID photo. You can.”

  “But I don’t,” she says.

 
“Emi, I wouldn’t ask you if I could do this myself. Please.” I hold the phone away as I throw up again, and get up quickly to stumble away before the person who lives here sees what I did on their steps.

  “God,” she says. “Did you just hurl?”

  “I did.”

  I hear her sigh on the other end of the phone. “Where exactly are you in the Bronx?”

  “Thank you,” I gush, giving her the streets of the next intersection. I sit against a building as I wait for her to get there. After what seems like forever, a brief honk gets my attention.

  “I guess you don’t want to drive,” she says after rolling the window down. When she sees me fall over, she opens the door and starts to step out. My car begins to roll.

  “Park it, Emi!” I yell at her.

  “Fuck!” she squeals, sitting back down and bringing the car to a stop. “I can’t drive! I hate your car, I hate it!” she yells as she comes over to where I’m seated.

  “Yes, it’s the car,” I look up at her, silhouetted against the bright sky, again the damn sun making my head feel like a jackhammer is chipping away pieces of my skull.

  “Shit, Nate, what’s wrong?” She holds out both of her hands to help me stand. “Do you think you’re contagious?”

  “No.” She pulls me to the car, pushes me into the passenger seat.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” she instructs me. I wouldn’t dream of not doing that. She’s a horrible driver. “How did you get up here?” she asks, pulling away from the curb.

  “I’m not real sure,” I answer honestly.

  “Waaaaait a minute,” she says, catching on. “You’re hung over?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “That would explain the strange text message I got at four in the morning. You know, Nate, I don’t get Shakespeare when I’m wide-awake and completely sober.”

  “Shakespeare?” I look down at my phone and try to look at my texts, but immediately feel dizzy and sick.