It would be really great if the kitchen floor would just go ahead and open up beneath her feet right now, and for a second, Emma wills it to happen, only to be disappointed when she doesn't manage to disappear.
When she glances up, uncertain, it's to see Mary Margaret's mouth forming a perfect little "o" of surprise, which just makes her flush, embarrassed and unhappy and wishing more than ever that she hadn't gone up to Room 15.
She's trying to figure out what to say, how to explain it, how it was a joke and then suddenly it wasn't, but she looks up sharply at Mary Margaret's question. "He's not a band-aid," she says, defensive.
She wasn't using him just to make herself feel better. If she had, she'd still be there right now.
But Mary Margaret could never mean to judge, could never be cruel, and Emma drops her eyes again, rubs at her forehead.
"Sorry. I just feel really stupid. I should know better. I do know better. He's too good a guy to be some one-night stand, so I left before things got too...too..." She rolls her eyes at herself. "Worse."
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When she glances up, uncertain, it's to see Mary Margaret's mouth forming a perfect little "o" of surprise, which just makes her flush, embarrassed and unhappy and wishing more than ever that she hadn't gone up to Room 15.
She's trying to figure out what to say, how to explain it, how it was a joke and then suddenly it wasn't, but she looks up sharply at Mary Margaret's question. "He's not a band-aid," she says, defensive.
She wasn't using him just to make herself feel better. If she had, she'd still be there right now.
But Mary Margaret could never mean to judge, could never be cruel, and Emma drops her eyes again, rubs at her forehead.
"Sorry. I just feel really stupid. I should know better. I do know better. He's too good a guy to be some one-night stand, so I left before things got too...too..." She rolls her eyes at herself. "Worse."