“Yesterday morning. I drove there before classes started because I was hoping to buy you breakfast.” Wait, that name rings a bell. I remember her mentioning Chris. “You’re sleeping with your ex? How fucking cliché.” I slap her hands away.
Her features soften as she shakes her head. “You’re such a dumbass.” She presses her forehead to mine. “Is this why I haven’t seen you since Tuesday night?”
“I know I’m no dating expert, but I didn’t think I had to specify we were exclusive. I won’t fucking share you.”
I’ve shared fuck buddies in the past, and I’m not unaccustomed to threesomes, foursomes, and moresomes, but none of those chicks meant anything to me. Presley is different, and different rules apply. Even the thought of any man putting his hands on her sends me into a jealous rage.
She lifts her head, drilling me with a serious look. “Firstly, we went ononedate, Kent, and we never discussed dating exclusively or dating at all, and secondly, I didn’t have sex with him. Chris is just a friend. It’s strictly platonic between us these days. It has been for years.”
I bark out a laugh. “You expect me to believe that?” The rooms spins, and I slump to the side of the couch. “Woah.”
She straightens me up, staring into my eyes, cursing under her breath. “Are you high right now?”
“As a fucking kite.” I grin, and she exhales heavily, not looking pleased at all by my admission.
The door opens, elevating the noise levels to ear-deafening, and Ford pokes his head in, eyeballing Pres as he shouts, “Sorry to break this up, but we’re hammered out here. I need you.”
“I’ll be right there,” Presley shouts over her shoulder before returning her focus to me. “You’ve got this all wrong, Kent, and we need to talk, but now isn’t the time.”
“I’ll wait,” I blurt, like a total pussy, because I don’t want to go. I lean back along the length of the couch. “I’ll just crash until your shift is over.”
She chews on the corner of her mouth, looking undecided. “Okay, but don’t touch anything. We’re not supposed to bring non-staff members back here.”
I roll my eyes, looking around at the shithole that is their staff room. “Trust me, I won’t touch a thing.”
She stares at me for a minute before her shoulders relax. “Fine. Did you have anything to eat?”
I shake my head. “I was passed out for breakfast and lunch, and I had a liquid dinner.” I flash her one of my panty-melting grins, but she doesnotlook impressed. Two strikes in a row. Not a good result. Three and I might be out. I fix her with my most sincere puppy-dog-eyed expression, hoping to reclaim some ground.
She mutters something under her breath before leaving the room, the noise of the party blasting through my ears when she opens the door.
Presley returns a few minutes later with a plate stacked with chicken tenders, mini burgers, and potato wedges. She places it on the coffee table along with two bottles of water and some silverware. Wrapping my hand around the fork, she pins me with a no-nonsense look. “Eat and drink and then sleep. I’ll wake you when it’s time to leave.”
***
My body shakes and my stomach lurches as I come to. Nausea churns in my gut, and sweat sticks my shirt to my back. I don’t feel so hot. The room swims, and my vision blurs in and out. I can just detect Presley’s gorgeous face through the haze. “Hey.” My mouth feels like smelly socks married soiled boxer briefs and made a baby in there.
“Thank fuck,” Presley says as her features come into clearer focus. “I’ve been trying to wake you for twenty minutes. It’s time to go.” She’s lucky she was able to wake me at all. Usually when I mix booze with benzos I’m out for the count and nothing or no one can rouse me.
I move to stand, promptly falling back on my butt on the couch. My stomach lurches again, and I wrap an arm around myself, willing the food I devoured earlier to stay the fuck down. I donotwant to hurl in front of my woman.
My woman.
What the actual fuck?
“I need to get home.” I attempt to stand a second time, thrusting my hand out against the wall to steady myself when I sway on my feet.
Presley thrusts a bottle of water at me. “Drink that and give me your cell. I’ll call you an Uber.”
“I’m not a baby. I can call my own fucking Uber,” I snap, removing my cell from the pocket of my jeans, willing my eyes to focus on the screen.
Presley whips the cell from my hand, pressing my thumb down on the screen to unlock it before swiping her fingers across the keypad. “You are so fucking stubborn.”
“You’re so damn bossy.”
“Done.” She lifts her head, her troubled eyes examining my face. “I added my number too. Come on. Ford is waiting to lock up. We’ll wait for the car outside. The fresh air might do you some good.”
She grabs her bag and jacket from a hook by the wall, sliding her arms into the vibrant leather sleeves and crossing her bag around her upper torso. I let her take my hand and lead me outside.
