I shake my head.
"We’re in Vegas, baby. I’m feeling lucky."
And naughty.
Chapter twenty-nine
Avery
Wegotbacktothe apartment building fifteen minutes ago after an awkward car ride. I dropped the girls off at their door as soon as I could, before hauling my ass back to my room, ready to pass the fuck out.
I’m exhausted.
It’s been a massive day with the game, constant fouls, the crowd taunting me, and then the flight. All I wanted to do was have a decent night’s rest and be as prepared for the wedding as possible.
Sleep had just started to take me when the knock came, sharp, fast, and jarring enough to send me upright. My brain immediately jumped to worst-case scenarios.Has something happened to them? To her?
I shoot out of bed, jogging to the door and yank it open. Olive’s cradling an enormous, empty water bottle close to her chest. Her hair’s a full-blown bird’s nest, and her face is scrubbed mostly clean. There’s smudged mascara clinging to her lashesand streaking down her cheeks like she forgot she was wearing any when she washed it off. She looks like a half-melted panda.
"Are you going to invite me in, or just stare at me funny?" Her voice is raspy, almost non-existent. If I know her the way I think I do, she’s going to hate herself for drinking when she wakes up in the morning.
She might even panic, thinking she won’t be able to sing at her next shows.
"Sorry," I say, clearing my throat as I hold the door open wider for her to step inside. Her eyes linger on my bare chest longer than necessary, her tongue swiping across her bottom lip as her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink.
She steps are slow and deliberate as she walks past me. She's not unsteady exactly, but definitely not graceful. Her shoulder brushes mine, and I feel the chill in her skin
She walks with intent, making her way through the kitchen, past the lounge room, and into my bedroom like she’s done it a hundred times before. "You coming,AJ?"I can hear the humor in her voice, no doubt trying to see how far she can push me, but it doesn't work.
Not anymore.
"In a minute," I call back, heading to the kitchen and grabbing a glass from the cabinet. I’m already bracing myself for whatever drunk-confessional version of Olive I’m about to meet.
"Hey, Avery?" she calls out, her voice way too energized for this time of night.
"Yes, Olive?" I shout back over the sound of me rummaging through the cupboard.
"Can I be your big spoon? You’re basically a giant, I think it would be fun to be your little jet pack."I pause, glance up, and catch her shadow on the wall—arms out like wings, playfully pretending to fly.
"Sure," I reply, even though I have zero intention of sleeping beside her tonight.
I fill her glass with ice water, press my hands to the counter, and take a few slow breaths, trying to shake off the weird energy crawling down my spine.
I make my way to my bedroom, fingertips numb, when I stop at the door to poke my head inside.
She’s asleep.
Naked, but asleep.
Her oversized sweatpants, jumper, socks, and underwear are thrown all over my room, with her water bottle resting on the nightstand beside the bed.
The hotel’s white sheets are covering every incriminating inch of her, and I sigh a breath of relief knowing three things.
One: I didn’t have to turn her down for sex.
Two: I wasn’t the one who stripped her down.
And three: I didn’t need to cover her up, because she did all of that for me.
