She’s still resting her face on her hands.“Nobody asked you to.”
I weigh how risky it would be to go back to the greenhouse to look for water and decide on very.Besides, there’s a greater probability of finding a water bottle in her room.And I can put my plan to get caught into action later.Or some other time.Right now, the important thing is to get her safely to her bed.
“Can you stand up?”
She groans quietly.
“Pull yourself together.”
“I’m dizzy...”
Goddamn it.I hate caring that she feels bad.“Don’t be so dramatic.Or else I’ll have to carry you.”
She raises her head and blinks up at me.“Was that a threat?”
“Depends,” I say grimly.
“Give me two more minutes...”She falls silent as we hear voices nearby.
“Come on.”I grab her hand and pull her up.I don’t like the way she sways, but I don’t want us to get caught now.She’d be in real trouble, especially after the recent incident in the pool.And she’s wasted.Yep, big trouble all right.
Throwing up seems to have helped, but I still can’t believe how slow she is as we cross the lawn.We have to stop several times because she feels sick, but she doesn’t barf again.I breathe a sigh of relief as we get to the east wing without any further incidents.
“What the hell?”she asks, way too loudly as I open the door to her corridor.
What does she think?“I’m walking you to your room,” I say calmly.
She props herself against the wooden doorframe.“I don’t need to be walked to my room.”
So I let go of the door and it swings back, making her stumble a couple steps backward.I jam my foot in the doorway again and grab Olive Garden by the arm.“No, course you don’t,” I mutter.“Give me your key.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re gonna make a hell of a noise trying to find the keyhole in your state.”
“Oh, and you’re in such great condition, right, got you.”
“You’re impossible,” I mumble.“Shut the fuck up, would you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” she imitates me, laughing as I glare warningly at her.God, that’s a beautiful sound.I don’t think I’ve ever heard her laugh before.So...lighthearted.I wish she’d do it more often, but if it takes alcohol to get her there, I’ll do without.
It takes her half a lifetime to hand over her key.I realize I have no idea which room is hers.After all, I’m not the one who keeps turning up, mad as a hornet, to make a scene.That’s her specialty.
She points to a door, and this time she doesn’t complain when I unlock it.That she’s suddenly gone so quiet unsettles me, so I hurry to get the door open.“You’ve got a room to yourself?”I ask in amazement as I glance inside.
“Aye, great, huh?”she says with an ironic undertone, walking past me.
“What’s the matter now?”
“I just don’t want any more bogging special treatment.”Her voice sounds sluggish, and she has to lean against the wall.I don’t like that, so rather than turning and getting out of there, I shut the door behind me.God knows why.I’ve delivered her back to her room.The rest of it is not my problem.In fact, none of this is my problem, so why does it feel like it is?It’s fucking me up that I can’t just beat it and get some sleep.Not when she’s suddenly looking so sad.
So I say, “Special treatment sucks,” watching as she pulls off her shoes and drops her jacket to the floor in slow motion.Among all the other clothes and stuff lying there.It makes me smile.She’s total chaos, and I love it.
“You know how that feels, don’t you?”she says dryly.
I reach for her as she stumbles over something.“God, just get to bed before you break every bone in your body.”
She pauses, and all at once, our faces are incredibly close.But I don’t want to.I don’t kiss drunk girls.Besides, she’s just thrown up.But Olive Garden makes it so fucking hard.Her green cat-eyes are huge, and her lips are slightly parted.She closes her mouth and gulps, without taking her eyes off me.And then she gives me the death blow.“Can you stay?”
