His shirt fell open, and between his words and the sight of that tempting trail of hair leading from navel to waistband, I groaned. “Yes, I do, but I don’t fuck drunk men, okay? If you’re off your face, you’re off limits, so drink this.” I thrust the water into his hand. “And we’ll get you into bed – yourownbed.”
“Why are you so perfect, Matteo?” he asked with a thwarted little sigh.
“You know very well I’m not. Drink that.”
He did, gulping it like a shot before slamming the glass down on the bench. I winced, glancing toward Katie’s bedroom door.
“I don’t feel better,” Miles said, hanging his head over his folded arms, hair flopping into his face. “What was that?”
“Water.”
“But what wasinthe water?” He peered suspiciously at me through the fall of his hair. “Are you poisoning me? Am I Snow White?”
“No, still Cinderella, you’re just very drunk.”
“I don’t believe you.”
His face paled, lips tightening into a thin line, so I gripped his elbow and pulled him toward the bathroom. “Quick. I refuse to clean vomit off the carpet at—” I glanced at the glowing digital clock on the microwave as we passed. “—three in the fucking morning.”
We made it just in time, Miles dropping in front of the toilet before I’d even flicked the light on. I gathered the hair back from his face just as he started getting it noisily out of his system.
“Mat?” Katie’s voice preceded her appearance in the doorway, sleepily scowling, her arms folded over a rumpled bed shirt. “Where did he come from?”
“He appeared in my room.”
She gave me a look. “Did you leave the door unlocked?”
“No! He just numbers picking locks with credit cards among his list of talents. Even when drunk, apparently.”
“It’s not very hard,” Miles mumbled into the toilet bowl. “I’ll teach you.”
“No, thank you,” Katie said. “And next time please be violently sick in your own toilet.”
I winced, shooting her a look half apology, half plea. “It’s fine,” I said. “I’ll get him to bed then clean up, don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried about the bathroom, I’m worried about—” She broke off with a huff and turned away, and since Miles seemed to have stopped being sick for now, I told him I’d be right back and pulled Katie out into the shadowy lounge room.
“Hey, I’m sorry we woke you,” I said, keeping my voice low. “You can go back to bed, I’ve got this.”
“I’m not worried about me, Mat, I’m worried about you,” she said, gesturing toward the glaring light spilling through the bathroom door. “About how this is just going to fuck you up more when you have a match against the world number three in like . . . thirty-six hours. You need to be getting a good sleep, not taking care of him all night.”
“I’m not going to,” I said, ignoring the first part. “I’m just going to get him to bed then go back to my own.”
She looked like she would argue, but with a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumped. “Don’t worry about cleaning up tonight. It can wait. Just . . . take care ofyourself, yeah?”
Having thanked her and reassured her and seen her off to bed, I stepped back into the bathroom to find Miles with his arms folded on the toilet seat, forehead resting on his rolled-up silk cuffs.
“How’re you doing there?” I asked, dropping a hand lightly on the back of his head.
“I think maybe I’m done,” he said with a weary little groan. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. We all need to be taken care of sometimes.” I ruffled his hair. “If you think you’re good, maybe a quick shower, then bed.”
He looked up, dark eyes bleary. “A’ight, but my shower. I don’t think all the apology sushi in the world would save me if I vomited in yours.”
I grinned. “Sure, let me just put some proper shorts on.”
Leaving him there, I went to grab the first pair of shorts I could find, and having achieved vague respectability, also collected my phone from the couch. The screen was full of notifications, all of them from Miles.
