Drowsy.
My heart jump-started into a tizzy, and my eyes raked down the list of warnings and side effects before zoning in on the instructions. Adults ages twelve and up were only supposed to take one pill every twelve hours until symptoms dissipated. I’d given Noah three.
A strangled sound escaped my throat, and I quickly hid the evidence back inside the bin before jumping to my feet.
I’d just drugged Noah Kincaid and tricked him into lying in my bed.
Panic set in swiftly.
“Come back to bed,” Noah muttered behind me.
Wh-What?
A crazed chuckle crawled up my throat from a mixture of how much his words warmed me and how much I was going to suffer when he killed me tomorrow morning after finding out what I’d done.
“In a minute, Noah,” I promised, my voice cracking halfway through. At a loss for what to do but unable to face the guy I’d drugged, I bustled around the room without any clear intent, moving our shoes around and putting my photo album back on its shelf. I was too ashamed to face Noah, but a quick glance in his direction showed sleepy eyes watching me scuttle around the room aimlessly.
I gulped. He looked more like a lazing lion eyeing his prey than a harmless college guy who was dangerously close to passing out.
“Are you all right?” I asked in concern, afraid his stomach would reject the triple dose of medication. The least I could do was make sure he wasn’t feeling worse after I’d drugged him. “Do you feel okay? Do you need water or anything?”
“I need you to come back to bed, beautiful,” Noah said, the drowsiness in full effect as he blinked lazily.
My ovaries may or may not have imploded.
“Be right there… honey bunches of oats,” I choked back, blanking on a pet name to use and sounding borderline hysterical. I grabbed my toothbrush and dorm keys before booking it out of the room and slamming the door shut behind me.
I needed a moment.
A hot flush crept up my neck as I forced out a strained laugh at yet another predicament I’d found myself in. The hallway was empty, and I felt like a fraud as I quickly shuffled down to the communal bathroom. It wasn’t until I reached the sinks that it dawned on me; I hadn’t grabbed my toothpaste. But I just shrugged and made do with only water as I tried to calm my blood pressure while giving my molars a thorough scrubbing.
I focused on the facts.
One, Noah was in my bed. There was no way to unmedicate him and safely get him back to his own place. After all, there was a thunderstorm raging outside, and he was way too incapacitated to drive.
Two, Noah was drugged and apparently quite affectionate when under the influence.
Three, Teresa was still busy God knew where, living her best life… which meant we were alone.
Four, Noah wanted me tocome back to bed.
The toothbrush stilled in my mouth, and I stared back at my flushed reflection. My grey eyes—which were apparently very hippolike—bugged out.
I stalled as long as I dared—brushing five times longer than usual with close to zero effect because my toothbrush bristles were too dull to do anything worth noting—before tiptoeing back down the hallway and sneaking into my own room.
Noah’s breathing had evened out when I returned, and the tightening knots in my stomach eased. Him passing out was very much for the best. I debated changing into my pajamas, but my clothes had dried, and I didn’t want to make Noah feel even more awkward in the morning, so I switched off the light before crawling into bed beside him.
Noah hummed as my side of the bed dipped, but his eyes remained closed.
I stilled, feeling entirely too creepy watching him sleep. But I’d never had an opportunity to study the guy so openly before.
A hint of freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose—despite the faint bruise I’d put there—had my lips tilting up in reflex. But maybe Noah was right; it didn’tlookbroken.
He had a scar near his hairline that was about the size of my pinky toenail, and his brow dipped in concentration even in his sleep.
I felt all kinds of female satisfaction as I soaked him in like a hot fudge sundae on a hot afternoon.
Noah was absolute perfection, even in his imperfections.
