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Like grief, Ev had said. Love is like grief. Crushing and all-consuming.
No, no. I fist my hands at the small of his back. Not love. A crush. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here. Two very different things.
Yeah, he’s hot and my body likes it. Yeah, I wish we’d fool around again, that I’d get to take off his clothes and see and touch that strong body.
And yes, I like talking to him, kissing him, making sure he’s okay.
Just a crush, right? That’s bad enough already.
But as I dance with him in the dark, beside the pond that almost became his tomb, with his breath in my hair and his chest pressed to mine, his voice still echoing in my ears and a light drizzle wetting my face, why does it feel like so much more?
***
Soon after the cops arrive. They ask questions, take a look at the car in the pond and check Ocean for DUI. One of them carries a blanket from the police car and wraps him up in it.
Worry is eating at my stomach lining. He has to get out of those wet clothes and the cold drizzle.
Thankfully, our friends finally arrive. As soon as we’re surrounded by their familiar faces, I feel better. Micah talks to the cops, while Ev and Seth help Ocean up to the highway. I unlock my car and have them bundle him inside while I turn on the heater.
Funny how they don’t protest or ask why I was here earlier. Why my car, not theirs.
Shoving the thought out of my mind, I turn my attention back to the cop who leans in the car window to ask Ocean more questions. Routine stuff, and I hop from foot to foot outside, impatient for him to be done and let me take Ocean away.
Take him home.
Seth is asking me what else Ocean has said, how he got out of the sunk car, and Ev is gripping my arm, talking about the weather and slick roads, but I can’t focus on them.
Home.
“Hello, Ms. Everett?” the cop calls out to me. “We’re done here for now. You should take him home, get him warm.”
I know.
It’s not until later, after the policemen have left, and guys have said goodbye and asked Ocean to call if he needs anything at all and I’m driving to the next exit to turn around and head toward Madison, that I realize I’m taking him to my place.
And that’s a good idea, I think as I glance at him, slumped in the seat beside me, still shivering. Who knows if Jason is even still back at his place, and if he’s well enough to take care of Ocean?
Besides, his place is farther than mine.
I glance at him again, at the blue shimmering under his long lashes, and give up trying to justify my actions.
He’s with me tonight, and I’m going to make damn sure he’s warm and fed and rested. That’s all there is to it. I’ll watch over his sleep. I’ll tell him he’ll be fine. I’m not leaving him alone tonight.
No matter what happens or doesn’t happen between us tomorrow.
***
The ride back is spent in silence. When I park outside my building, he doesn’t comment. I wonder if he even notices.
“Ocean? Hey.” I’m starting to freak out, because he doesn’t seem to hear me, but when I shake him a little with a hand on his shoulder, he blinks at me. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
By the time I’ve climbed out of the car, he’s thrown his door open and is struggling to unfold his tall frame out of my Mini Cooper. Under different circumstances it would have been funny, but his face is ashen in the light of the streetlamp, his lips white—and a scratch I hadn’t noticed earlier, over one brow, is bleeding sluggishly. The blanket has slipped off his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
I reach for him, sliding my hand around his back, and he pushes off the car to lean against me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.
“This is your place,” he says, his voice hushed.
“Yeah. I’ll crank up the heater, don’t worry.” I tug on him, and he stumbles along my side toward the building entrance. “I have leftover soup, and salad, and you can have a hot shower to warm up.”
