Dusty’s nails click on the hardwood as soon as we open the door. Lulu giggles, bending down to greet him, except her heels betray her and she twists sideways. I catch her before she hits the floor. Steadying herself, she totters into the living room before collapsing onto the couch in a glittering heap.
“No sex,” she announces, finger wobbling and serious in a way that cuts through the haze.
“No sex,” I promise.
She sips the water I press into her hands, lip gloss smudging the rim. Then she sinks deeper into the couch, eyes already heavy.
I should send her home. Let her sleep it off in her own bed. But the thought of her walking into that empty house, still tipsy and soft and warm, feels wrong.
So instead, I kneel in front of her, carefully lifting one of her legs and locking her heel against my chest so she doesn’t wobble. The strap is tiny and delicate, and I undo it slowly, careful not to scrape her skin. Her breath hitches into something giggly and soft, and it nearly undoes me.
When the heel slips free, I keep her ankle cradled in my hand, thumb tracing the curve of bone before I even realize I’m doing it. I bring her foot closer and press my mouth to the inside of herankle in one slow, reverent kiss. Then I repeat it with the other heel.
Her head tips back against the couch, a dreamy sound spilling from her lips. “I feel like a queen right now.”
“You are. You’remyqueen.”
I look up at her as I stand, my mouth still burning from the press of her skin. Then I bend, slide an arm under her knees, another around her back, and lift. She squeaks, startled, then melts against my chest with a sleepy giggle.
“Pookie,” she sighs, her hair tickling my collarbone. “You’re strong.”
I grunt, because yeah, I am. But carrying her like this, warm and trusting, does something to me. She’s light in my arms, but the truth of it is heavy. Heavy in a way that roots itself in my chest, telling me I want to be her person.The one she turns to, the one she leans on, the one who gets to carry her through every doorway for the rest of our lives.
By the time we’re up the stairs and down the hall, I push my bedroom door open with a shoulder, breath tight with all the things I can’t say. Dusty trots in ahead of us and jumps onto the foot of the bed.
“Up you go,” I murmur, setting her down. She sprawls across it like she owns the place, sequins scratching against the sheets.
“Glitter bomb,” I mutter, eyeing the dress. “You wanna sleep in this thing?”
She groans. “Feels like sandpaper.”
“Yeah. Thought so.” I rummage through my dresser, pull out a soft, worn T-shirt, and hold it out. “Here.”
She presses it to her face, eyes closing, smile tugging at her lips.
“Mm. Smells like you.” She yawns, triumphant. “You’re never getting it back.”
My chest squeezes so tight it hurts. I should laugh, tell her she’s drunk. But I can’t get the words out. Instead, I just stand there, watching her shimmy out of the sequins and tug my shirt over her head. It hangs to her thighs, drowning her, and I swear I’ve never seen anything that looks more right.
“Cute,” she mumbles, looking down at herself before flopping back against my pillows.
“Jesus, Lu.” I drag a hand over my face, trying to calm the pounding in my chest. “You’re a menace.”
“Yourmenace,” she whispers, like it’s nothing, like it’s just drunk talk.
But it’s not nothing, and I need to tell her, but her eyes are already closing. So I flick the lamp off and climb in beside her. She scoots back without hesitation, fitting herself against me like she’s done it for years instead of weeks. My arm curves around her waist automatically, my face pressed into her hair.
She sighs, wiggling more until our legs tangle. “Warm,” she says softly. “You’re always so warm.”
“Go to sleep, Parnell.”
“Bossy.” Her words slur together, but then she giggles, pressing her fingers into the back of my hand where it rests on her stomach. “Feels nice though. Like I’m safe.”
I close my eyes, the air leaving me in one hard rush, my heart hammering against her spine. I don’t think, just kiss the crown of her head before I can stop myself.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “You’re always safe with me, Lu.”
Her breathing evens out, little hums slipping between exhales, and I lie there long after she’s gone under, holding her, drowning in the feel of her in my bed.
