I yank my finger back, embarrassed. “Shoot, oh, sorry.” I try to step back quickly, but my feet aren’t as fast as the rest of me. I hit the edge of the table and tumble sideways, landing on my ass on the floor.
“Shit.” Penn jumps up, lifting me effortlessly and placing me on the couch. He takes a seat on the table in front of me, his elbows on his thighs as he searches my face. “Are you okay?”
I look into his eyes for the first time in what feels like forever. They’re so blue, so alluring. They shimmer even in the dark, like two oceans I’d willingly drown in. It feels like I’m drowning.
“I’m fine.”I’m not.
“What are you doing here?” He sounds exhausted, and I stifle a sob.
I shrug and turn away, not feeling as brave as I was a moment ago.
He grabs my face and forces it back to him gently. “Are you still drunk?”
I jerk away, hurt and shame slamming into me. “No. Sorry, I never should have come.” I move to stand, but he puts an arm on my shoulder, keeping me down.
“Why did you then?”
“I came to yell at you,” I say matter-of-factly.
His lip twitches, just barely. “That right?”
I pop a shoulder.
“Well? Let’s hear it.” He leans back, bracing his arms on the table behind him.
“Huh?” I ask, confidence slipping at his smug tone.
“You came to yell. So. Do. It.”
I glare. I can’t remember what I was going to say. I was hurt and angry, but mostly, I think I just wanted an excuse to see him.
“Okay. But, uhm, I actually need water first. My mouth is so dry.”
A small, breathy laugh escapes him, but he moves to the kitchen and fills me a glass of water. I drink half of it in one go, then place it on the table beside me. He sits in front of me again, waiting. I swallow. I wanted to say something about what he posted, but now that the drinks have worn off, I’m not feeling as brave. I feel foolish.
“I’m tired.” He sighs. “If you’re not going to yell at me, can I go back to sleep?”
My eyes water for no apparent reason, and I’m thankful he can’t tell in the dark. “I’m not going to yell at you. I should go. Thanks for letting me crash.”
“You’re not going anywhere. It’s the middle of the night. Go back to bed,” he snaps.
“Then, at least let me take the couch. I shouldn’t be kicking you out of your own bed.” I lie down and make a show of getting comfortable.
“No.” He glares down at me, but I close my eyes and pretend to be falling asleep. Next thing I know, I’m being lifted in his arms and carried down the hall.
“Stop!” I whisper-yell, remembering his sister is in the other room. “Let me sleep on the couch.”
He ignores me, and when we reach his bed, he tosses me down in the middle and turns to leave the room.
“Wait!” I plead, and he stops. “Can you stay with me?” I ask quietly. “I…I don’t want to be alone.”
I don’t want to feel lonely anymore, and he’s the only way to stop it.
When he starts moving toward the door, disappointment floods me, but he just closes it. He comes back and climbs into the bed.
“Could I have a shirt?” I wince. I didn’t want to ask, but there’s no way I can sleep comfortably in these tight leggings now that I’m sober. Plus, my sweater is still damp.
Penn closes his eyes, and tension radiates from him. I’m annoying him, and I hate myself. He gets up, grabs a shirt, and hands it to me. I scurry to the bathroom and change, then fold my clothes neatly and pile them on the sink before getting back into bed.
