Emmitt gapes at her, some kind of coffee concoction dripping down his face. The drink pools along his collarbones, running in watery lines across his skin, staining his shirt and soaking into his jeans.

The girl turns on her heel, muttering insults as she walks back to her family.

I can’t help it. I burst into laughter, pressing my fingers to my mouth to contain the noise.

Emmitt gives me a look of betrayal, coffee dripping from his lashes, but I can’t stop myself. I clutch my sides as I crouch on the ground, laughter wracking my body until I can hardly breathe.

“Oh my God,” I say, tears springing to my eyes. Did that really just happen? “She threw her drink at you! Oh my God.”

“I can’t believe you’re laughing right now,” Emmitt grumbles, wiping his face with his sleeve. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” I ask through giggles. “I think you underestimate how much of an asshole you can be.”

“Really, love?” he asks, clearly unimpressed.

“At least your camera is safe,” I say, rising to my feet now that my laugher has finally subsided. “I’d give it to you but...you’re kind of wet.”

Emmitt looks down at his camera, still held in my grasp, and relief flashes briefly across his face. Then he exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need a shower.”

“Can’t help you there, buddy,” I say.

“Park Slope is nearby, right?” he asks instead.

I nod slowly. “Yeah. Why?”

Emmitt grimaces, taking off his jacket and wringing it out. His shirt is sticking to him, his snake tattoo visible through the plain white material. My eyes wander there of their own accord, but I quickly direct them back to his face.

“I can walk from here to my apartment, then.” Emmitt pauses, giving me a hesitant look. He starts to reach out, but the movement drips coffee down his forearm, pooling near my shoe.

“Ya Allah,” I say, shaking my head with a grin. “Look at you. You’re an absolute mess.”

Emmitt makes a face at the puddle of coffee at our feet. “I shouldn’t touch my camera while I’m soaked. It would probably be better if you took it home with you.” He shifts uncomfortably, refusing to meet my gaze. “Unless...you wanted to come with me?”

I consider his forlorn expression and a swell of pathetic fondness springs up between my ribs before I can quell it. I sigh and incline my head toward the cemetery’s exit. “Lead the way.”

26

The amount of people that stare at us as we walk through the Brooklyn streets are far too many. At least it’s because Emmitt is drenched in coffee and not because they’ve recognized him as a celebrity.

When we get to his block, he leads me to a cute little brick building and punches in a code on a black keypad.