Chapter 10: What the Hell Just Happened?
Bright stood there, frozen, his brain flickering between reboot and total shutdown.
Of all the things he'd expected from today—getting insulted at the range, maybe some fried dumplings if he was lucky—this hadn't even made the list.
Emily.
That Emily.
The little girl he'd shielded without a second thought—the one with round cheeks and a bunny doll clutched in her tiny hands—had been dragging him around, making him miserable, and kissing him like it was no big deal this whole time.
"You…" His voice crawled out slowly, like his brain was buffering every syllable. "You're… that Emily?"
Emily's face twitched.
Bright squinted, grasping at foggy memories. "The one with the bunny doll? Big cheeks? Always crying—"
Emily's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Finish that sentence, and I'll kill you."
Bright blinked. His brain, still half-dead, suddenly realized something.
She was embarrassed.
The almighty, unflappable Emily—the girl who had probably stared down actual criminals without breaking a sweat—was blushing.
Bright's grin stretched slow and wide, the kind of grin that made people want to punch him.
"You always knew, didn't you?"
Emily looked away, pretending to check the safety on her gun—because, of course, she carried one even now.
Bright crossed his arms. "And what about the kiss? Doesn't that mean you like me?"
Emily's grip on the gun twitched.
"You want me to take it back?"
Bright blinked. "That's not—"
"Too bad."
His brain blue-screened for the second time that night.
Emily turned on her heel and started walking toward the car like she'd just settled the entire conversation.
Bright stood there, gears grinding in his head.
"Wait—what the hell does that mean?"
"Means you think too much," she called over her shoulder.
Bright's mouth opened, then closed. He glanced around, finally noticing the small crowd gathered nearby—some whispering, some not even trying to hide their grins.
One guy was holding up his phone.
Oh god.
Bright felt his soul leave his body.
"Perfect," he muttered, stalking after her. "Now I'm internet famous."
---
The ride back was suspiciously quiet.
Emily leaned against the window, arms crossed, eyes flicking over the passing city lights like nothing had happened.
Bright kept both hands on the steering wheel, knuckles white. His mind was still tangled, replaying the last five minutes on a loop.
Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore.
"So… about the kiss."
Emily didn't even glance at him.
"What about it?"
Bright's fingers tightened on the wheel. "You're seriously not going to explain?"
Emily stretched, stifling a yawn like she was utterly bored.
"Why? You already know I like you."
Bright nearly swerved into the next lane.
"Wha—"
He snapped his head toward her, only to find her smirking at him from under half-lidded eyes.
"You're messing with me."
Emily's smirk widened.
"Took you long enough."
Bright groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
Unbelievable.
This girl was going to be the death of him.
"Don't lose hair over it," Emily said, voice perfectly even. "It's normal."
Bright side-eyed her. "Normal? Really?"
Emily nodded. "Mom does it to strangers all the time."
Bright's face twisted.
"Your adopted mom. And how do you know they're strangers? What if they're secret lovers?"
Emily's smirk didn't waver.
"Focus on driving."
Bright grumbled but obeyed, because arguing with Emily was like trying to punch fog—frustrating and completely pointless.
Still, the silence between them didn't feel heavy or awkward.
If anything… it felt oddly natural.
Like this was just how things were supposed to be.
---
They pulled up to Emily's house twenty minutes later.
Bright sat in the driver's seat, gripping the wheel like it was his last lifeline. His mind was still reeling.
The whole night had been a fever dream—grenades, revelations, and kisses he still hadn't fully processed.
Tomorrow, he'd probably wake up and realize none of this had actually happened.
Emily unbuckled her seatbelt, pausing with one hand on the door.
Without warning, she leaned in—again—and kissed him.
It was quick, barely more than a soft brush of lips. Over before Bright's brain even had a chance to reboot.
By the time his neurons caught up, Emily was already climbing out of the car.
"Goodnight, Bright."
The door shut.
Bright sat there, staring straight ahead.
His hand slowly drifted up to touch his lips.
His face heated.
"What the hell just happened?"
---
By the time Bright got home, exhaustion had wrapped around him like a lead blanket.
He peeled off his jacket, took the longest shower of his life, and collapsed onto his bed.
His mind refused to settle.
A grenade.
A revelation.
Two kisses.
And the sudden, world-breaking realization that Emily had known who he was from the very beginning.
Bright sighed heavily, staring at the cracked ceiling.
"This is a dream," he muttered. "A big, weird, completely unrealistic dream."
His stomach growled loudly.
"…Even in dreams, I'm still broke."
With a groan, Bright dragged himself toward the fridge, rummaging for something edible before finally passing out on the couch.
Tomorrow, everything would make sense.
Probably.
Maybe.
Not likely.