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“Fuck,” Braxton says, looking away. His thick chest rises and falls rapidly. “Fuck, I want to kill that guy.”
“You don’t need to kill anyone,” Selene says. “Just come have a drink with us.”
He rubs his stubbly chin, and I can see the cords in his neck straining.
“Come on, Brax, please?” Selene says. “I broke his phone and called him lots of dirty names.”
“And think of it this way,” I say. “Now he has to suffer, knowing he’ll have to live without Selene for the rest of his worthless life.”
“Thanks, babe,” Selene says.
Braxton’s face softens. I lean back against the cushions, feeling a sudden wash of dizziness pass over me. I probably could have done without that last drink.
Braxton picks up my legs and sits between me and Selene, placing my feet in his lap once he sits down.
“Stupid men,” Selene says. “Nathan is the literal worst. And Ky’s guy flaked on her again.”
“Men are assholes; you two know that, right?” Braxton says.
He grabs one of my feet and rubs the bottom with his thumbs. My eyes flutter closed, and I have to stop myself from sighing. Man, that feels good.
“You’re not an asshole, Brax,” Selene says, her voice sleepy.
“No, I am,” he says. “I’m the worst kind.”
My eyes flutter open. He’s looking at me. His hands feel good on my bare feet, and I don’t want him to stop. All the vodka is making it hard to keep my eyes open.
We sit in silence for a while. I feel myself drifting in and out. I try to stay awake, but it’s a battle I’m definitely losing.
Braxton squeezes my foot. “You girls should get to bed.”
I force my eyes open. Selene is so out she’s mouth-breathing.
“Wait here,” Braxton says. “I’ll carry her upstairs and come back for you.”
I giggle. “Will you carry me upstairs too?”
“Your room is down here,” he says.
My eyes close again. I’m so sleepy. “You smell good. I bet your sheets smell like you.”
Braxton stands abruptly, tipping my legs off the couch. I bend my knees and tuck my feet under the blanket. Who needs a bed? I’ll just sleep here.
Braxton’s hands slipping beneath me wake me from a vivid dream.
“Where? What?”
“Shh,” Braxton says, his voice throaty and low. “I’ll get you to bed.”
I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my head against his chest. He carries me across the living room, past the kitchen, and through my bedroom door. His chest is solid, his arms hot steel around me. My eyes don’t want to stay open, but a part of me wants to wake up. To see Braxton holding me like this. To be aware of what’s happening.
I feel the mattress beneath me as he sets me down. He pulls the covers up, and a second later I can tell he turned off the light. Everything melts away, floating on a sea of vodka.
“Night, Brax,” I say, without opening my eyes.
“Night, baby girl,” he says.
Something he said catches in my mind. “Brax?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re not an asshole,” I say. “You’re the only one of them who isn’t.”
He doesn’t reply and I feel myself drifting off again, the soft blankets warming me.
“I am, Ky,” he says, and his voice startles me. “I really am.”
The door clicks shut and I fall asleep, wondering what he means … and wishing he had stayed.
