She’s so goddamn pretty, and the offer is incredibly tempting, but I’m a fucking gentleman and already know I can’t take her up on it.
She must see what’s going on in my head, because she smiles.
“Don’t worry, or maybe you never were, but it’s just an offer from one friend to another. So please,” she begs, innocently blinking up at me from under her lashes. “I’m not quite ready for the night to end.”
“Alright, but only if you promise to be good,” I tease, amused at how the tables have finally turned.
“No promises,” she giggles, digging inside her purse before holding up a key as though she’s just discovered the lost buried treasure. She attempts to put it in lock, but fumbles, struggling to line it up with the slot.
“You need any help with that?”
“Nope,” she says, popping thep. “I got it. Just give me oooooooone second,” she adds, her tongue darting to the side of her mouth as she concentrates.
“Yes!” She cheers, throwing her hands in the air as we hear the small click of the lock unlatching. “Seeeee.” She glances over her shoulder, a proud smile on her face. “I told you I had it.”
“Congrats,” I say, my hands finding their way into my jean pockets as she holds the door open for me as I follow her inside.
My intentions are pure, but the guilt lingers. The last thing I’d ever want to do is take advantage of her or the situation. Would she’ve invited me into her private space if she’d been sober? I know we’ve been making progress, but this much? I’m honestly not sure.
“Sorry about the mess,” she says, kicking off her heels, which land haphazardly around the room.
“Oh yeah, this place is a pig-sty,” I scoff sarcastically, taking in the small living area and kitchen. While there are a few dishes in the sink and some books sitting on her coffee table, the place looks pretty damn clean to me.
“Can I tempt you with a drink or… well, I don’t really know what people offer other people when they bring them back totheir place. I don’t normally do this sort of thing,” she admits with a shrug.
“No, I’m fine. But how about I get you some water instead,” I suggest, heading toward the kitchen. I suspect she’s going to wake up tomorrow feeling like shit either way, but anything we can do to ease the suffering now will likely be in her best interest.
At least we have the day off tomorrow from games and practice, which means she’ll be free to sleep off her lemon drop hangover in peace. Great for her. Terrible for me. It's pathetic, I know, but I’ve gotten way too used to seeing her every day, and despite hanging out with her all night, I pathetically find myself missing her already.
“You don’t think I can get my own glass?”
“After the whole lock-and-key incident?”
“Hey!” she says, her eyes narrowing. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure that wasn’t my fault,” she argues as she clumsily folds her arms across her chest. “I’m actually starting to suspect my landlord came in and switched the lock while I was gone. It’s really the only logical explanation.”
“Oh yeah. Sure. Totally logical,” I chuckle, opening cabinet after cabinet in search of the glasses. It only takes me three tries before I finally find them. Jackpot! “Well, lucky for us, it looks like your landlord didn’t hide these while you were gone, too.”
“Ha-ha,” she says, trying to pretend like my joke isn’t funny, but I see that smile of hers. “While you take care of that, I’m going to hurry and go change.” She looks down at herself and groans. “This dress is waaaaay too tight.
God, her and that little black dress have been driving me crazy all night. She’s not wrong. It is tight as it clings to her body perfectly and shows off every single one of her curves in the best way possible. The hem stops mid-thigh, putting her incredible legs on full display, while the straight neckline and long, sheersleeves keep her covered in a way that only makes you want more.
I’mreallygoing to miss that dress.
I have about a hundred inappropriate responses queued up, but I swallow them all. “Sounds good,” I say instead, silently laughing to myself as she walks in a not-so-straight line down the hallway toward her bedroom.
Her door shuts with a soft click. I use this time to fill her glass before scanning the kitchen, trying to figure out where she might possibly keep her medicines. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to get her set up before I leave, since I’m sure eventually she’s going to need them.
I’m barely given a chance to look before I hear Hollis’s voice. It’s soft, but it sounds like she’s out calling to me.
I take a few hesitant steps toward her room before I hear it again, louder this time.
“Fletch!!!” she yells. Yep, she’s definitely calling me.
“Everything okay?” I ask, picking up my pace until I reach her door. It’s not even been two minutes. How much trouble could she have possibly gotten herself into? Then again, with how much she drank tonight? You never know.
“I need your help,” she calls through the closed door.
It feels weird to let myself into her bedroom. This is her sacred space, and I know sober Hollis would never willingly invite me, but when she calls my name again, I brave it. I place my hand on the knob and open it.
