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Keep your focus.
Run lines with him.
Eat food and leave.
It’s that simple. You’re doing your job. You’re on the clock. You don’t have to explain yourself to your friends. Or anyone else.
And that’s exactly what I do.
I sit on the opposite end of the couch. Pick at the tacos he had delivered. Run lines with Eli until well after midnight. I’m finding it harder and harder to keep my eyes open after the long day, my belly full.
“You can crash here if you want to. It’s safer than driving back to you place, and you have to be back here in six hours anyway,” Eli says as I pull the strap of my bag higher on my shoulder.
“I’ll be fine,” I protest, the idea of sleeping here enticing. His couch is comfortable. The blanket I had pulled across my lap was soft and plush. Not to mention, it’s right next to me. I could fall asleep in seconds.
“If you blink, you’ll fall asleep. At least let me drive you home so I don’t have to worry. It’s my fault you’re here so late.”
I want to release him of the blame he feels but he’s right. I wouldn’t still be here if it weren’t for him. The only reason I showed up was because I knew I didn’t really have an option. As his assistant, I’m expected to be at his disposal at all times. Whether I want to or not.
“I appreciate the concern,” I start, reaching for the door handle, blinking hard to focus on the shiny, gold knob. “I’m fine, really.”
“Fine is such a stupid word. You’re not fine,” Eli says, his voice closer than it was a few seconds ago. Then his hands land on my hips. Turning my body to face him, his eyes meet mine, and I can see the concern.
“Stay here,” he pleads. “You need to sleep.”
I open my mouth to protest but yawn instead, covering my mouth with my hand.
“Point and case. Let’s go,” he says, placing his hand on the small of my back and leading me toward the back of the trailer to where the bedroom is.
“No. I can’t,” I finally say as we cross the threshold.
“You can and you will,” Eli says, tugging the strap of my bag down my arm. Once it’s free, he rests my bag against the leg of the desk and holds out his hand, palm up. “Phone.”
Pulling it from my back pocket, I set it in his palm and stare at him.
“Is your alarm set?”
“Yeah.”
“What time?”
“Five.”
“Will that give you time to run home and change?”
“Not a chance. That gives me enough time to roll out of bed and pick up the coffee order on the way here.”
“That’s okay. I’ll loan you a T-shirt.”
The thought makes me begin to laugh uncontrollably. I blame the exhaustion because it shouldn’t be that funny, the image of me in Eli’s shirt, three sizes too big, the material swallowing me.
“Or we can always sneak into wardrobe and borrow something,” he suggests, chuckling to himself.
“Fine, but I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” I say as I take a step backward, bumping into the wall.
Eli matches my movements, trapping me with his body, his hands pressed against the wall besides my hips.
“And what idea is that?”
“I’m not sleeping with you, Eli.”
“If I thought you could survive another day without sleep, I’d keep you up all night. There would be no sleep involved. Since that’s not the case, I’ll take the couch.” Leaning in close, he presses his lips against the side of my cheek before whispering in my ear, “Sweet dreams.”
