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"You had half a dozen open bottles of shit in there. Cranberry juice, pineapple, lemon, lime, and a can of mostly-flat Mountain Dew."
"What I'm hearing is the next time I have a party, you are on the punch."
"You need me, honey, just let me know," he said, and my insides did a little wobble.
Of course.
Of course my stupid body would want West.
A guy completely out of the question.
Not Tag, the investment banker who had promised to take me on lavish vacations every year for the rest of my life. Or Eric, the very steady, very dependable and sweet delivery driver at the nursing home who, while he couldn't promise me outlandish vacations, would have been a solid and true partner. Not even Kenneth, the older gentleman who claimed he just wanted a life partner, that my sex life would be free to explore with other men.
Nope.
I didn't get a single wobble for any of those guys.
But West, the out of town biker who was as commitment-phobic as I thought I was?
All the wobbles.
God damnit.NINEWestThere was no going back.
The smart part of me knew that I should have unlocked that door in the laundry room, walked out the front door, and never looked back.
So, clearly, I was a fucking idiot.
Because I followed her up. I made her dinner. I watched her God-awful horror flick with her. I passed out with her on the couch.
We didn't even fuck again.
That was how I knew I was screwed.
While I enjoyed women just as people, I never mixed that enjoyment of women with someone I was sleeping with. It was too easy for things to get confused, for it to seem like there was more going on than there was. So I hung out with the club old ladies. Then I had casual sex with other women.
I didn't do both with any one person.
Yet, here we were.
I did have the foresight to text Huck to tell him I'd safely deposited his sister at home before going to do my own thing.
"Shit!"
Those were the first words out of Auggie's mouth, her entire body jolting, wide awake in a blink.
"Jesus Christ," I hissed, startled fully awake. I'd been dozing for about half an hour, maybe enjoying the fact that Auggie had moved to rest on my chest at some point during the night a little more than I should have. "What?" I asked as she pushed up off my chest, looking down at me with puffy, but wide-awake eyes, her hair a mess around her sleep-flushed face.
"Work," she told me, voice a little rough.
"It's six in the morning," I told her, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair that had slipped into her eye behind her ear.
"Oh," she said, air whooshing out of her, her body free-falling forward again, slamming down on my chest, her head hitting my rib. "Ow," she grumbled, reaching up to rub her chin.
"Think you broke a rib or two," I told her.
"Shush, you. Sleep, me," she said, sounding half asleep already.
"Alright, but what time should I wake you up then?" I asked, feeling her hand slap me in the face, seeking my lips, landing there.
"Seven-thirty," she told me, though, before passing back out again.
She was not someone who tossed and turned, who struggled to fall asleep. Her entire body went limp in under a minute, her breathing going slow and even.
This would have been another good time to slide out from underneath her, find her phone, set it up on the table so her alarm would go off, then go my own way.
Did I do that?
No.
No, of fucking course I didn't.
Why?
That was the question, wasn't it?
I didn't make myself think about that right then, though. Instead, I went ahead and stroked my hand through her hair, wondering what she was going to say and do when she was fully awake.
Five minutes to when her alarm was set to go off, I slid out from beneath her, going to the kitchen to put some coffee on, taking down a couple cups.
"Oh, you bastard," she hissed, making me stiffen before I realized she was yelling at her phone's hazard alarm. "I could be rich and sleeping 'till noon," she added, still talking to her alarm as she jammed her finger at her screen. "But no, no. I choose to work for a living. Wait," she said, sitting up, stiffening, then turning, brows drawn together as she took a deep breath. "Oh, you."
"Oh, me," I agreed. "Good morning, babe."
"You stayed the night."
"I did."
"And you made coffee."
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Why did I make coffee? Because it's early as fuck, and I need it."
"Why did you stay the night?" she clarified, standing, moving around the couch, slowly approaching me.
"Well, I was trapped under a sleeping woman who I was pretty sure would have clawed my eyes out if I woke her up."
