I wrote this awhile ago but I never posted it here but I am now. lol raise your hand if you care.

Will's first thought: Her lips taste like salt and her tongue tastes like sugar. Almost like a margarita. He wonders briefly if she's been drinking but they drove straight from the school so that wouldn't make sense.

Second thought: She doesn't taste right. She doesn't taste like toothpaste and mouthwash and a little bit of glue and that's not normal. He likes it.

Third thought: This isn't Emma. It's Shelby.

He should feel guilty. He's cheating on Emma (but is it really cheating? Will's pretty sure that neither of them knows exactly what's going on with them right now. But Will's also pretty sure that if she knew that he was pressing his thumb into that delicious space between another woman's breasts and rib cage and burying his hands in another woman's hair, she wouldn't be too happy.) But then Shelby does something with her tongue that sends all thoughts of guilt away and he focuses on scraping his teeth along the underside of her jaw instead.

Now she's talking, though, and he wishes she wouldn't because it reminds him just who she is and where they are and what they're doing. If he's going to retain his innate goodness he has to stop this. So he does, holding her at arms length for a moment before leaning back against the couch and running his hands through his hair, thinking about what to do now.

He should send her home and not see her again until Regionals where they'll avoid eye contact because they both not-really-forgot about this. But then Will hears her apologizing and he can't allow her to do that. It's not her fault that he got himself invested in a less than functional relationship that has become a mere second thought to him.

So he finds himself pulling her into the kitchen, instead. She's still talking endlessly about Vocal Adrenaline and he almost wants to shove her against the teal wall that Terri so precisely painted, and start kissing her against so she can just shut up and he can think straight.

He makes himself think of Emma, though; her red hair draping across the cream of her neck and her minty mouth that's so cool it almost burns.

So different from who he's with now. Even as she's telling him what a mess she is, swirling her finger around the brown rim of the coffee mug as he sits across from her, Will can't help but think how refreshing a mess can. Maybe somebody who's not always so proper and clean, somebody who he can finally get his hands dirty with and feel something because she's just as broken as him, would be nice. But then again, maybe he's just searching for scars in somebody else to make his seem a little bit better.

He doesn't think that's the case, though, because Shelby's standing up, placing the mug back on the table and running her finger over the rim one more time, before handing him her business card. She's smiling but her eyes are sad. He thinks she knows that he won't call her.

He won't call her.

Even though he's dying to taste her margarita stained lips again.

He doesn't feel guilty for a second.