He sinks to the floor. “Go away.”
I crouch beside him and then fall on my arse. I laugh harder. “What ya gonna do?”
He shrugs. “Sleep?”
“Here?”
He flops onto the floor. “Why not? It’s comfy.”
Using the lamppost, I manage to stand. I lean down, grab his arm, and pull.
“Leave me alone.”
I’m stronger, thanks to three years of weightlifting. I yank him to his feet and against my chest. I didn’t mean to do that. Nope. No sir. We stagger, and it’s only by clinging onto each other that we manage to remain upright.
“What do you want?” he asks.
I blink. “Umm…”
He pushes away, turns, and staggers down the pavement. Oh! That’s right. I catch up to him and spin him around. His face goes a funny shade of green.
“Don’t throw up.”
He presses his lips together and sways from side to side. “What do you want?”
“You can’t sleep on the floor.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause it’s cold.”
He frowns. “No, it’s not. I’m toasty warm.” He gives me the ghost of a smile.
Come to think of it, I’m warm, too. Beer shield! Have I drunk any beer? Spirits, check. Wine, check. Beer? Not sure. “Come... Come to mine.”
He narrows his eyes. Is it me, or is he swaying even more? Or maybe I’m swaying, too. Back and forth like a pendulum. Tick tock. Tick tock. I chuckle. What happens when the clock hits twelve? Will we turn into pumpkins? I bet Flynn would turn into a pretty pumpkin. I’d turn into a turnip. Jimmy the turnip. My eyes water.
“Don’t wanna.” He turns around and stomps off.
Somehow, I manage to jog in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. “Don’t be stubborn. I have a comfy sofa.” I do. It’s true. It might have a few broken springs from, uh, sex gymnastics! I snort more than laugh. I’m good at sex gymnastics. On the sofa. Hmm, comfy sofa.
He stands still and slumps his shoulders. “How far is it?”
“Ten minutes. Oh, wait. Maybe a bit further.” Wait. Why do I care where Flynn sleeps tonight? I hate him. No. I don’t. I love him. Nope. Hate him. Hate. Hate. Hate. Boo Flynn.
“My legs feel funny.”
“So do mine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” I fall into him. “We’re drunk.”
He blinks. “Yeah.”
“Sofa?”
“Fine. Do you know the way?”
