“Is it?” I sit up, my head spinning a little bit.
“Yeah. You’re mybestfriend.” He leans forward and pokes my cheek. “No one will ever compare to you.”
I feel slightly uncomfortable at how close we are right now.
It feels like high school all over. Drunk faces mere inches away from each other. If I really wanted to, I could kiss him right now. It wouldn’t take much effort; he’s so close I can smell the mixture of booze and pizza on his breath.
Last time, it didn’t work out very well, though. And I fear there would be no coming back from this one.
Plus, I know what the girls would say,‘Drunk actions are sober thoughts,’I’d never live the kiss down. Especially if nothing came from it.
But I also can’t ignore the look in his eye. We’re sitting face to face, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes. A challenge. Almost as if he wants me to risk it all and lean forward.
I let out a shaky breath and pat his leg.
“We should go to bed.”
As hard as it is, I stand, creating the distance needed between us.
I don’t add that we should go to bed before we do anything we regret.
“Agreed.” He grunts as he stands. “I don’t know why my best friend would let me drink so much when she knows I have practice tomorrow.”
“You’ll survive.” I pat him on the shoulder, grab the empty pizza box, and set it on my trash can before walking into my room.
Fletcher follows behind me and collapses onto the right side of the bed.
“You’re not even gonna change?” I peek my head out of my bathroom.
“Don’t have the energy.”
“Not even to brush your teeth? I don’t know if I want to sleep next to someone with nasty breath.”
“You’ll survive.” He mumbles, grabbing the nearby pillow and pulling it under his head. His feet are so close to the bottom, I’m surprised they aren’t dangling.
“Must be nice being a guy.” I grab my makeup remover from the bottom drawer. “If I went to bed right now, my face would break out tomorrow.”
“That sucks.”
By the sound of his mumbles, he’s barely awake. He's just providing me with minimal responses, so I know he'll be out in a matter of minutes.
I wipe off my makeup and then wash my face thoroughly. I pat my face dry and tiptoe into my bedroom, grabbing sweats and at-shirt from the middle drawers. There’s a faint snoring behind me, and when I turn around, Fletcher is knocked out.
I pull my sweats up over my legs, then untuck my dress from the waistband.
I glance at Fletcher one more time before pulling the dress over my head and throwing it into the nearby laundry basket, my bra quickly following. And in one swift motion, my t-shirt falls over my body.
I climb into the bed next to him, but unlike him, I crawl under the covers.
I glance over at him. He seems so peaceful.
“Goodnight, Fletch.”
I give him a soft smile before turning onto my side.
And with the sound of his snores, I fall asleep.
sixteen
