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That stupid nickname makes me want to melt. He must never use it again.
Before I know it, we’re parking by my building. I open the passenger door, but the moment I stand up, I stumble on my feet and watch the ground head my way helplessly. A shriek escapes me just before two arms catch me.
“White girl wasted really doesn’t look good on you. Come on. I’m taking you to your room.”
He goes to grab me in what I like to calldelicate princess style.Chester used to carry me like that all the time after his lacrosse games. I would cheer for him on the side, and at the end, he’d put his jacket on me and carry me to his car.
But for some reason, my drunk ass refuses to be a princess as I fall into Xi’s arms, wrapping mine around his neck and my legs around his waist. I guess I’ll be a delicate koala instead.
“Delicate koala,” I cheer.
“What the fuck,” he groans as he adjusts from the surprise and takes on all my weight. “Comfortable?”
“Yep,” I say as I bury my face against his neck. “You smell so good.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s your cologne?” I ask as he taps the card to get inside the building.
“I don’t know. My brother gifts it to me every birthday.”
“You have a brother? What’s his name?”
“Malik.” His short responses tell me he’s not exactly enjoying the conversation. Yet, at the same time, he’s not ignoring me.
“Ziad and Malik,” I test the names on my tongue. “I love your names. Any other siblings?”
He gets us in the elevator and presses the button to the penthouse. “Two stepsisters.”
“Really?” I ask way too excitedly. “I wish I had sisters. But I’m an only child. I guess Peach and Ella are like my sisters. I think my parents should divorce. There’s no love whatsoever in their relationship. How old were you when your parents divorced?”
“They didn’t. My dad died. And I was thirteen.” I don’t think he realizes, but his arms tighten around my waist.
Lead drops in my stomach. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was a long time ago,” he murmurs as he taps the keycode to enter the penthouse. He doesn’t sound sad, but then again, he doesn’t soundanything.
He enters and walks straight to the open-plan living room. “Which way to your room?”
I point at the hallway behind him. “I’m the last room—wait. How do you know the keycode?” I try to pull my head away from his shoulder to look into his eyes, but he presses a hand at the back of my head, keeping me tight against him.
“I’m your security guard, remember? I know everything, cupcake.”
I giggle into his neck as he enters my bedroom and finally puts me down on the bed. I can’t seem to stop talking. “I feel sick, and there’s a horrible taste at the back of my throat. Is that the drugs? Am I dying?”
He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’ve never done coke before, have you?”
I shake my head and let myself fall back on my pillows. “I don’t think I ever will again.”
“Coke drip. That’s what it is. It’ll go away by morning. I’ll get you a glass of water to help with it.”
Time becomes meaningless. He’s out of the room and back in before I even understand he’s gone. He sits on the edge of my bed and helps me sit up before giving me the glass of water.
I drink a few sips and put it on my bedside table. “You keep saving me,” I murmur.
He looks into my eyes but doesn’t respond. I’m noticing that when this man doesn’t want to talk about something, he simply doesn’t.
My drunk brain doesn’t seem to care.
