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Feeling everyone’s eyes on me, I don’t give a fuck what they’re thinking right now. There is no way I will stand by and let Nat put herself down like that.
I don’t think she’s even listening to me because she just continues to mumble to herself. “I might love him, but he doesn’t love me. He’s not for me, off-limits. Was too slow. Should’ve told him, but he never knew I was there.”
Fuck, is she talking about me? I want to tell myself it is me, but replaying the words in my head, it can’t be. I’ve known she’s been there since that night in high school where I kissed her for the first time. She knows how I feel, I’ve told her enough times. That was her choice, not mine.
If it’s not me, then damn, it means some other asshole has broken her heart. What is wrong with him? Surely, he could recognize the amazing woman he had instead of ignoring her and walking away. Wish I knew who it was. Maybe I’ll get it out of Xavier later.
Before I can work it out in my head, Xavier says, “That’s it, you’ve had enough to drink. I’m cutting you off. Time to get you home.”
Not missing my opportunity, I jump up. “I’ll take her home. I need to get some rest anyway. Her apartment is on the way to my hotel.” When I pull her up out of the chair, she leans her full body weight into me and looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes that look so sad right now. It’s almost killing me the way she is so inside her own misery, and I can’t help her.
“Do you love your wife, Jordan?” Her words are little slurred, and while I’m working out what she just said, she’s talking again before I can answer her. “Does she love you? Because she should. Waste if she doesn’t.” My annoyance and anger are starting to simmer inside me. This is not the Nat I know, and all these deep-dark feelings that are creeping out are ripping me apart.
Xavier and I manage to get her into her coat ready to leave when she starts her spiel again. “I think I’m a little drunk. I don’t drink. Who made me drunk? It was you, wasn’t it, Jordan? You wanted me drunk so you can tell me I’m ugly too. Shit, I think I’m going to pass out.”
Her body weight is fully on me now and I’m furious. What the hell was she thinking drinking this much?
“She do this often?” I growl at Xavier, feeling pissed at him that this might be a common problem and he hasn’t chosen to share it with me.
“Nah, man, she must’ve skipped lunch or something. Totally not her. Hasn’t changed since we were teenagers. She’s a lightweight.”
Even with all his reasons why she might be this drunk and passed out in my arms, I’m still having trouble controlling my concern that is showing through in pure anger. I pick her up and head toward the door. There is no way I’m letting anyone near her when she is this vulnerable. Xav keeps offering to look after her, but I can’t step away from her. I need to get her home safely, and then tomorrow there are going to be some serious discussions. Whether she feels like it or not.
Alesha had already called me an Uber, and luckily, it’s downstairs waiting as I exit the building carrying Nat. This could look really bad if anyone captures it for social media, but thankfully, the female driver just takes pity on me and chats about the last time she got blackout drunk and how she couldn’t remember anything. Obviously, she has no idea who I am. Grateful that I’m flying under the radar, I search through Nat’s bag for her keys while she has quite a good snore going on, with her head on my shoulder. It’s an invasion of her privacy, but I can’t get her inside safely if I don’t. I doubt she’s waking up anytime soon.
The Uber pulls up in front of Nat’s building, and I lug her limp body out of the car. Struggling up the stairs with Nat in my arms, pretty much dead weight, is not an easy task. It’s not that she’s heavy, because she’s not. I bench press heavier than her on an easy day. But she is just awkward to carry and not hit any of the walls in her narrow stairwell. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I hurt her in any way. The last flight of steps we ascend, she’s starting to squirm a little. Instead of being dead weight, she is now becoming like a slippery noodle. I’m not expecting her to move quickly like this, and she’s suddenly trying to sit up in my arms, and I struggle to catch her as she lurches forward.
I can’t drop her, so I find myself lunging forward with her movement, and as soon as I take control of her weight in my arms, stretched out in front of me, I feel a pull in my shoulder, followed by a feeling that is not pleasant.
“Fuck!” My voice is loud as the pain shoots down my arm. “No, no, no,” I mumble under my breath as I reach her door. “This can’t be happening.”
I try to get the key in the door and stave off my panic that is already racing through my body. Stumbling in through the door, I kick it closed with my foot. Thank God she left a lamp on. Scanning the living room, I see a hallway off to my left which must lead to her bedroom. The pain is subsiding a little, and instead, a numbness is starting to move down from the top of my arm.
Finding her room, it smells like her. There is an explosion of clothes that are all over the floor. Finding an outfit must have been a challenge tonight, I know this because Sasha’s exactly the same.
As I gently lay her down on the bed, she lets out a big snore and then her breathing settles again. Standing up straighter and gingerly stretching out my arm, my heart beating at an erratic rate, I can breathe a little easier when there is no significant pain.
Don’t get me wrong, I can feel all is not right, but it’s hopefully just something minor and will feel better in the morning. I can’t tell anyone about it. Coach would have a heart attack if I told him I strained my throwing arm. He would have the medical staff running around in circles, scans being done, tests performed, and the media would have a field day.
I can imagine the headlines now.
“New York Lions star quarterback arm injured from carrying drunk, passed-out girl up to her apartment alone while wife is stuck back at home.”
No matter that it should all be confidential, it would be leaked by someone offered the right price to pass on what they know. Everything I’ve worked so hard for all my career, to stay clean and out of the scandals, would unravel in one night. I can’t even imagine the chaos that would then surround Nat once they found out it was her. I could be naive and believe it wouldn’t happen, but that’s just plain stupidity. The sports paparazzi sniff out the smallest detail to get the breaking story.
Trying to push the potential mess out of my mind, my focus is back on the beautiful woman below me, sleeping away peacefully. I don’t know how she normally handles her alcohol, because from what Xavier says, this doesn’t happen. I remember that night back in college where she had a couple of drinks and spent thirty minutes in my dorm room vomiting it all back up, but that was nothing like this. She might be passed out and sleeping at the moment, but she could wake at any time during the night and start vomiting. I can’t possibly leave her on her own, it’s too dangerous, especially if she sleeps on her back. While I’m deliberating what to do, my shoulder is temporarily forgotten while I’m working out my plan of attack.
I need to strip her clothes off to make sleeping more comfortable and also to save her dress from the potential technicolor it could become during her sleep. I wish this were under different circumstances, but it needs to be done, and I doubt she will even remember in the morning. It’s not like I haven’t seen her naked before.
Shit, get on with it and get her lying down peacefully and get some rest for this shoulder. With it hurt, there is no way I can sleep on the couch. Sleeping on the bed next to Nat is the only option right now. It sounds like I’m clutching at reasons to stay close, but it’s reality. My shoulder needs to be as flat as possible tonight, and I hope she has some frozen peas in the freezer for after I get her settled. I’m hoping it’s just a Charlie horse where the muscle just burns for a short time but settles quickly over a few days.
Grabbing my phone out of my pocket, I message Xavier to let him know I got her home safely and will stay with her tonight until she sleeps it off. I might have told a white lie that I was sleeping on the couch, but then again, there are many times I haven’t told Xavier the truth about when it comes to Nat and me. It’s one of my biggest regrets, because I hate keeping things from one of my best friends.
“Now, little lady, where would you keep your sleep shirts?” I start to open and close a few drawers. “Because there is no way I can sleep next to you naked. My will power is strong but that’s just pure torture.”
Looking around the room, it hits me how perfect it is for her. The furniture is all clean lines, very modern style in a crisp white. Yet on top of each of the surfaces are all her feminine touches. Photos of her with her family. An arrangement of fake flowers, in shades of pink and white, sit perfectly on one edge of the chest of drawers. And then in the corner of the room is a high-back jade-green velvet chair, with matching curtains hanging already drawn over the window. Her favorite color is the statement in the room, and I shouldn’t be surprised by that.
Nothing much shows up in these drawers, and as I move to the ones on the opposite of the bed where I laid her down, I’m caught off guard. Right next to where she sleeps is a photo frame that has a picture from senior year. Xavier, Nat in the middle, and me on the outside. Both of us dwarfing her dressed in our football gear, helmets in hand and arms tightly around her. Her short cheerleading skirt takes me back to many visions of her jumping up and down in it. When I was watching her in a way I shouldn’t have been.
