“And guy…guy refers to a guy just as pathetic as me,” he slurred.
“You are not pathetic, Sawyer.”
I struggled to get him up the steps of the house, and just when we were about to the top, he decided to lean against the railing.
“Sawyer, I can’t hold you like this!”
“Do you see the stars, Ellie? Those stars are?—”
I lost my grip and he fell backward over the railing, thankfully landing on his side instead of his head. Rushing down the steps, I knelt down beside him.
“Sawyer, are you okay? Hey! Talk to me!”
I slapped his face a few times for good measure, but also for the pleasure of hitting the idiot who always got drunk after a woman dumped him.
“Hey! No need to hit a man when he’s down,” he moaned, holding his face.
“There is when you’re completely drunk over a woman you dated for two weeks.”
“Two and a half,” he sighed. “They were the best two and a half weeks of my life.”
I rolled my eyes, hauling him to his feet. In another day, he’d find some other poor woman to fall for, and then he’d be crushed all over again.
“Come on,” I grunted, shoving my shoulder under his arm. “Let’s get inside and then you can tell me all about it.”
“Really?” he breathed, sending a waft of alcohol right into my face.
I regretted saying I would stay in that moment, but what kind of friend would I be if I let the poor man wallow in his sorrows?
“Yep. We’ll put on a pot of tea, and you can tell me everything.”
“Blech! Tea is gross.”
“Don’t let Josie hear you say that.”
“She has to drink it.” He threw his head back and laughed, nearly making me lose my balance again. “Because…because she likes tea!”
Man, there were days that I really couldn’t deal with drunk people, and this was quickly working up to be one of them. We struggled up the stairs, argued over the keys, whether or not the key would actually turn in the lock, and finally, I threw the door open and nearly tossed him inside just for the fun of it.
“Here you go,” I said, pushing him forward. “Home sweet home.”
He spun faster than he should have been able to in his drunken state. I didn’t entirely understand what was happening as his hand came up to cup my face.
“Ellie Belly, you’re the sweetest in the world.”
“That’s nice,” I said, patting his hand.
“No, seriously. You’re always there for me, even when I’m a mess and gross. I could never ask for a better…a better…”
He swayed on his feet, squeezing his eyes closed in concentration. When his eyes popped open again, they were glassy, but it wasn’t because of tears. Nope, that was one hundred percent alcohol swimming in every pore, orifice, and socket of his body.
“It’s you,” he murmured, swaying closer to me.
Afraid he was going to crash into me and knock me over, I held up my palms and pushed him back just enough to keep him upright.
“What’s me?”
“I’m so stupid.” He chuckled, swaying toward me again. “Ellie Belly, it’s always been you.”
