chapter 2- hurricane emma (part 2)

She’d been so engrossed solely by looking at the big plate of food on the table that she completely missed processing the look of the apartment, until now. Slowly widening her gaze and spinning around, she seemed to spontaneously rectify her mistake.

The place was modest in size. She was standing in the living room/kitchen area and noted that most of the hardwood floor was covered in one large rug. It looked a little cheap in quality, but it had a sick celtic design and some faded blue highlights around its boarder. There was a nice TV stand, a shitty looking coffee table, and a comfy looking sofa with a few notable rips on the far arm of the chair.

There was bedroom door a few feet down from the refrigerator. An open bathroom door back toward a tiny hallway. Around the walls of the place there were a series of cheap looking drawings seemingly placed in no coherent order. Emma couldn’t just ignore it, “Okay, we are gonna have to redecorate because I don’t think I can survive all the cheap ass artwork on the walls.”

“I drew those.” Paul bit his tongue, as he tried to not take offense. First, she’d invaded his apartment and now she was attacking his drawings? What was with this girl?

“Oh, you drew all these??” Emma exclaimed clearly caught off guard. Changing her tone to something clearly fake, but substantively more cheerful, she squeaked, “What a cool hobby!”

“It’s not a hobby.” Paul quietly muttered, as Emma moved closer to inspect one of his drawings more closely. It was a drawing of city hall, and she had to admit that it seemed very good. Lacking in color, but very detailed.

“Woah, you’re not bad.” Emma admitted, as she gave Paul a reluctant complement before reverting to her previously spunky tone, “but I still wouldn’t mind seeing a bit more color on the walls.”

“I’m better at drawing people. But yeah, we can reorganize some stuff so that you’re more comfortable.” Paul kindly offered, as Emma seemed almost uninterested in his concession. He watched as she took off her jean jacket and tossed it on the rug by his coffee table. She was really making herself at home, wasn’t she??

As she adjusted her leopard printed tank top and perked her head up to smell the bacon odor in the air, Paul noticed two things. First, her attention was clearly firmly back on Claire’s big plate of breakfast. And second, there was a noticeable difference between the sisters.

Emma’s boobs were far fuller than Claire’s, which was rather eye catching because Claire had to be at least fifty pounds heavier than Emma! While Claire was a tall soft-framed pear shape with a weighty behind, Emma was a shorter, tough looking hourglass with larger breasts. He wasn’t trying to check her out, but the contrast was striking. Either way, his attention snapped back to reality with the next words out of Emma’s loudmouth.

“Damn! This is what I call a breakfast!” Emma burst excitedly, as she waltzed over to the kitchen table and grabbed Claire’s plate to Paul’s immediate horror.

“Hey, that’s for..” Paul began to object, as he watched Emma quickly move the plate from the table to the countertop in front of his microwave. He wanted to stop her, but something had him transfixed. Maybe it was the way she confidently leaned her butt against the cabinets and turned her taut waist to the side so she could reach the contents of the plate with both arms, but more likely, Paul’s hesitation truly became cemented once Emma sloppily shoved aside the knife and fork he had left for Claire.

Paul watched speechlessly while Emma, in a quick surge of activity, sloppily rolled up the stuffed bacon and cheese omelet with her hands and plopped it between the two butter-saturated bagel halves to make a truly ridiculously oversized breakfast sandwich. He never thought she’d fit that calorific monstrosity into her mouth, which is why his jaw dropped when she forced a hugely messy bite into her mouth somehow. His dumbfounded expression was again sustained, when Emma began speaking almost immediately after she’d started chewing.

“So, gotta admit. You’re not what I expected.” Emma managed to mutter with her mouth so full Paul thought her cheeks might explode with cheese.

“Excuse me?” Paul questioned, as he struggled to hear the words awkwardly squeezing by the food Emma was chewing in her mouth.

After spending a few extra seconds to chew and swallow her massive first bite Emma loudly rephrased her previous statement, “You don’t really look like Claire-bear’s type.”

“What’s Claire’s type?” Paul doubtfully wondered.

“Goodie-two-shoes.” Emma chirped before sinking her teeth into another oversized bite of Claire’s breakfast. Watching her go, it was hard to belief that she was related to Claire. His girlfriend hardly ever ate something with her hands when she had the option of a knife and fork, and yet here was Emma, who seemed to prefer getting her hands messy. Then there was the speed with which Emma was eating. Claire always took her time, and yet Emma was rushing like she hadn’t had a good meal in weeks. Paul was astonished. Claire never would talk with mouth full or eat so sloppily. Claire was pristine, Emma was.. a slob.