Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Fine, if he was determined to think she was just jealous, explaining herself felt pointless.

She slipped her headphones back on and tuned him out. Half an hour later, the car finally rolled into the underground garage beneath their apartment building.

Her ring was still sitting on the dashboard. She didn’t bother to pick it up. Instead, she got out of the car without a word.

It was almost laughable–the way she clung to something, poured her heart into it, only for it to seem worthless to someone else. Like a bad joke with her as the punchline.

Her legs weren’t steady, so she couldn’t keep up with Theodore’s brisk pace. Predictably, he caught up to her effortlessly, and they rode the elevator home together.

Theodore hadn’t changed his clothes in two days; he must have been dying for a shower. As soon as they stepped inside, he headed straight for the bathroom, leaving Emma to grab her pajamas and disappear into the guest room shower.

By the time she finished and stepped out, Theodore was already done. He was sitting in the guest room, book in hand, sprawled comfortably on the window seat with his feet propped up, completely engrossed.

Emma was all set to ignore him–until she caught a glimpse of what he was reading. Was that… an IELTS prep book?

Panic shot through her. She rushed over to snatch it away.

But she was already unsteady on her feet. When she lunged for the book, Theodore just held it aloft out of reach. She wobbled, lost her

balance–and toppled straight into his lap.

They’d hardly ever been this close before.

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But right now, her anxiety over the IELTS book was stronger than her discomfort at ending up perched on his legs. The higher he held the book, the more determined she was to grab it.

Finally, he gave up, lowering his hand. The book fell open in front of her, and he let her see for herself.

Emma’s relief was instant. Thank God–he was holding the old reading workbook she’d played with three years ago, the one with a seventy percent error rate and her frantic scrawls translating nearly every word.

As she relaxed, another realization dawned–she was still sitting in his lap, and his arms, busy flipping pages, were wrapped around her. He was literally holding her, and neither of them had ever been this close.

But Theodore seemed oblivious, more interested in the sea of red ink and mistakes than the fact that she was in his arms.

She tried to wriggle free; instead, he just tightened his grip and frowned. “How did you even get this question wrong? Isn’t it obvious? The answer’s right there in the first paragraph. If you’d just matched up the words one by one, you couldn’t possibly have missed it!”

Emma decided to let him rant to himself. These were exercises from

three years ago! She was a whole different person now.

When he finished his “critique,” he suddenly looked up at her, frowning. “Why are you suddenly studying a foreign language?”

“Bored,” she lied without missing a beat.

He studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Well, it’s good for you. Better than sitting around overthinking everything.”

He kept flipping through her book, frowning at every page. “Your basics really aren’t great, are they? Don’t know this word, or this one? Emma, I swear, you don’t recognize half the words in this whole article.”

Emma rolled her eyes. Say whatever you want–I’ve already scored a 7.5, and as soon as I get out of here, I’m gone.

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Of course, he caught her eye roll.

He paused, then seemed to want to backtrack. “Well, I guess it makes sense. You’re an art student–I forgot.”

Ha, as if “art student” was some kind of insult.

He seemed to remember something else. “Emma, didn’t you ask me for help with homework back in high school?”

Chapter 52

Maybe there was something…