He smells good. Warm cedar, like the woods, with something sweet underneath. Cinnamon and sugar. I could eat him.
I try to tell him so, but my words tangle together in nonsense.
“You’re drunk,” he murmurs, voice soft but pained.
“Mhmm…” It’s all I can manage. The alcohol, his warmth,him. It’s too much.
He exhales, long and slow, his chest rising and falling against my side. His expression shifts, like he’s fighting a battle he knows he can’t win.
He carries me to his car, setting me inside before shutting the door. I blink up at him, my vision hazy.
“Sophie…” he says, and it pulls at something deep in me.
I force my heavy eyelids open. “Why are you here?”
He grimaces, like even that is too much to share. “I live nearby.”
I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. “Mmm. Lucky me.”
His jaw tenses. He circles the car, sliding into the driver’s seat. He’s so close now. I reach out, fingertips tracing lazy circles against his arm.
He stills.
And then I’m gone, lost to the pull of sleep.
11
THEO
Shadows mostly cloak her features, but I stare anyway. Her pouty lips occasionally twist, but otherwise, she’s been dead to the world for over two hours.
When I found her on the side of the road, drunk out of her mind…
Fuck.
Torn doesn’t even begin to explain the emotional torment I went through in that moment.
I had to stop. I’d stop for anyone… or at least that’s what I tell myself. But would I have, truly?
She looked so vulnerable out there, her dress barely covering her legs. Her body curled into itself, sitting on the curb in the dark. I mean, what kind of man would I have been to leave her there, possibly to be stumbled upon by someone with bad intentions?
The thought makes my stomach churn. Some drunk asshole could’ve seen her, half-conscious, legs sprawled, and decided she was his for the taking. Some sick fuck could’ve pulled her into his car, and she wouldn’t have beenable to stop him.
The image is too much. I push it away, but it lingers. Tightens around my throat like a noose.
Yes, I did the right thing. Any decent man would have stopped. Any decent man would have made sure she was safe. That’s all this is. That’s all this ever was.
But if that were true, why am I still sitting here? Why am I watching her sleep, memorizing the way her lashes flutter against her cheek, the way her lips part slightly as she breathes? Why can’t I fucking leave?
And then, she was in my car, passed out. Practically dead to the world. I don’t know where she lives, let alone who to contact to pick her up. And really, I’d be willing to bet her parents wouldn’t take kindly to her teacher dropping her off in her state at one o’clock in the morning. That wouldn’t look great.
I snort. Because this looks so much fucking better.
I couldn’t bring myself to go up to bed. Too worried that something would go wrong. Or that she’d wake up, disoriented and scared, and freak the fuck out.
So here I am. A fucking creep, watching her sleep. Admiring her beauty when I shouldn’t even acknowledge its existence.
My life has taken quite the turn.
