Love sometimes requires that you're on top.
She could handle that. Being on top. Being in control. Being in love? That was another matter. She'd fallen in love too much, too easily. Letting people in was becoming harder and harder a task. She'd lost that trust, that ability to put her life in someone else's hands.
*she slides her hands over his arms, nipping gently at his bottom lip* ...what else does love require?
Love requires only that we trust each other. *his eyes firm on hers*
Emma rolls over in bed, sheets tangling through her bare legs as she looks at the clock. It's still early, only a quarter of eight, but he's already gone, nothing but an imprint left on the pillow, the lingering scent of earthy spice and clove cigarettes clinging to the air around her. She crawls out of bed, pulling a robe around her naked form before opening the heavy curtains, looking out on the city.
She frowns as a beeping sound catches her attention, turning to open the drawer of the bedside table and pulling out her cell phone. John must be nearby she thinks, closing her eyes as a chilly guilt washes over her. Trust him, Emma she tells herself, biting her lip as she turns and throws the phone against the wall, watching as it shatters into several pieces.
She slumps down on the bed, drawing her legs beneath her as she thinks, ponders the events of the past few days. She's letting herself become too emotional again; she'd almost let herself get too weak with John. Maybe that's why it was so hard to trust him... he was the only weakness she had left, the little part of her heart she hadn't yet learned to control.
They all leave in the end, they're all unfaithful. Trust yourself... she shakes her head, that small child's voice of dissention in her mind, the one that even after three years she hadn't been able to purge from her memory. A knock at the door quiets it, clears her thoughts, a once-again blonde Alison peeking her head into the room.
"Yeah, you had a visitor...and he's gone, so come eat breakfast."
Emma looks perplexed, standing up and walking toward the door. "I don't know what you-"
Ali waves a hand, padding through the hallway and toward the kitchen. "Oh come on Em, you left your ripped shirt in the foyer."
Emma laughs, combing her fingers through her hair. "Yes, well, I'm sorry about that."
"Girl, you've got some messed up conception of what deserves an apology." Ali opens the refrigerator door and Emma leans in the doorway. "So, anybody I know?"
She sighs, frowning, if there's anyone she trusts it's Ali, but...
"I...no. No one you'd know." Emma smiles weakly, crossing the room. "How about pancakes?"
Sometimes, Love requires that you keep secrets.