“It’s not okay! What are you doing in my bed?!”
“Absolutely nothing, and that’s the first time in my life I’ve said that in a woman’s bed,” he snarks, and then turns serious for a second. “But last night I was just cuddling a very sad, very beautiful girl while she slept a fitful sleep.”
“Cuddling?” I echo, and rub my temples where the hangover drums are beating.
“Yes, honey. Cuddling. That’s all. I swear on my Stanley Cup ring.”
I stare at him, unblinking, unmoving. He stares back, relaxed, smirking. My head pounds even harder.
“Oh, God, I regret this so much,” I mutter, and yank the blankets off him. “Get up. Go home. Before someone sees you.”
“You regret what? Letting a friend comfort you in your drunken time of need?” He rolls his eyes as he slowly pulls his hulking frame to a sitting position and swings his feet around to the floor. “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t intend to spend the night. I was just going to stay until Avery showed up and he could take care of you. But I’m on pain meds for the shoulder and we were drinking, and when you passed out, I passed out.”
“Oh, my God, Alex…Avery.” I moan.
“He didn’t show. I’m sorry, Steph.” He says it quietly and with so much sympathy it actually hurts. I can’t deny Avery rejected me when I see it on someone else’s face. So I grab his hands, tugging him to his feet with all the strength I can muster. “Go home.”
“They have practice in an hour and a half,” he replies, glancing at my alarm clock. “I’m supposed to join and test out my shoulder. I’ll just wander next door and hitch a ride.”
“And tell Avery what? I was in the neighborhood spooning Steph and need a lift to practice?” I retort.
He smiles down at me and lets out a short, healthy laugh. “Okay I’ll wander over to Parsons’s instead.”
“Good call.” I march out of my room, down the hall and to the front door with Alex lumbering along behind me. As we reach the front hall, I grab the door handle and Alex grabs my shoulders, turning me around to face him. He’s not wearing his usual jovial, slightly smartass expression.
“You okay?”
“Yes. I mean I’m incredibly hungover, but I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not talking about that,” he says pointedly.
I move my eyes away from his. “I’ll let you know after I talk to Avery,” I say, and he hugs me.
“Okay, well, if you need to talk, I’m actually good for that, too, not just for drunk cuddling,” he says with a friendly smile, which looks weird on his face because I’m so used to seeing it with a more lecherous smile.
“Thanks,” I reply, and can’t help but add, “You’re a lot less of a slimeball than you let on.”
“If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it,” Alex quips with a wink.
I open the front door, and he walks out onto my porch and down the steps to the empty street. I watch him stroll west until he’s almost out of sight and then close the door. I’m about to head back up the stairs when something in the living room catches my eye. It’s Maddie. She’s holding a cup of coffee and curled up in the corner of the couch like a cat. A very disapproving, judgmental cat. I blush under her blue eyes and that makes the disapproval turn to disappointment.
“Why would you sleep with Alex?”
“I didn’t!” I walk into the living room and plop down beside her. My stomach, which is completely empty after the puke-fest last night, rumbles. I run my hands through my bed head. “I was so drunk.”
“I know.”
“I threw up.”
“I thought you might.”
“Alex took care of me while I waited for Avery.”
“Of course he did.” Her voice holds a sarcastic note.
“I’m an emotional drunk and I just started to bawl and Alex comforted me and I guess I passed out and he fell asleep.” I ignore her tone and keep confessing. “I swear, Maddie, it was platonic.”
“I don’t think Avery knows that.”
