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“Why didn’t you just take me home?
“I didn’t know where you lived,” I admit.
“Callan, why did you come for me?” Her tone is calm, and her words more well-formed, which makes me believe she’s becoming more aware of her surroundings now; not as drunk as she was when I found her.
“You weren’t making sense to me. You obviously drunk texted me. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” We’re standing on opposite sides of the room, and in an instant, the nervous tension between us feels tangible.
“I’m not your problem,” she replies, shifting on her feet. She seems embarrassed and on edge, I can see it all over her. None of what happened tonight was truly normal for her, I gathered that. It wasn’t normal for me either.
“I didn’t mind.”
“That’s not the point,” she says, sounding almost irritated. “I’m just your assistant. You’re just my boss. I am not your responsibility.” Sterling stands motionless, and the space between us seems to have gotten bigger, the tension growing with it. But I don’t know how to diffuse it. The words,you’re just my boss, are stuck on repeat in my head.
“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” It’s all I can say because I’m starting to get frustrated with the situation. And I don’t mean to come off aggressively. Can’t she just be grateful that anyone cared enough to help her out? Because she’s right. I shouldn’t be doing any of this, feeling any of this. I shouldn’t have gone out of my way to pick her up. I should have just ignored her text and gone to bed.
“I’m sorry,” I offer more calmly now. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I was just trying to be helpful.”
I let my words linger, hoping she’ll see this for what it is – just someone trying to be there for her and ensure her safety.
But I can’t even convince myself of that. The war between what’s right and what’s wrong rages on inside of me. What I want to do, versus what I need to do. But in moments like this, they seem like the same thing. As if my want is a need.
“You don’t have to sleep on the couch,” she breaks the silence and takes a few steps closer to me.
“I can’t make you sleep on the couch, Sterling.” I’m tired and I can tell she is too.
“I don’t mean that. I mean, your couch barely looks big enough to fit one person. Can’t we just sleep on different sides of the bed?” She cocks her head slightly at me.
Wait. What?She went from practically telling me that this was all too much, to offering to share my bed with me?What the fuck?Is she playing with me?If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’d question it a bit further. But I grab my shit and head to the room, Sterling following behind me. I wait for her to pick a side and I hop in on the other. It’s awkward, I can tell. And I’m confused as fuck. If I wasn’t already questioning my intentions, well, I am now.
This girl is insufferable. But I kind of like it.
thirteen
Sterling
I want him to touch me. Roll over and wrap his arm around me. I wish I could ask.Hold me,I’d say. Of course, I can’t, but it’d sure be nice.
He saved me, is all I can seem to think. But it causes a tornado of need and confusion to twirl around in my head as I think about why he did it. It’s forbidden, he’s got rules. But I don’t know many other people who get drunk at a party and their bosses are the ones to pick them up.
The room is pitch black with the only source of light coming from the digital clock on Callan’s nightstand. My mind can’t seem to quiet, meanwhile he seems to be sleeping peacefully. I hear his deep yet quiet breathing coming from what feels like miles away but is really just the other side of the bed. I wonder how much this bed cost. I wonder how much everything in this penthouse costs. I guess I should just be grateful to get one night of sleep in luxury before going back to my lonely ass apartment.
I finally feel my pounding headache start to dissipate thanks to the magic of H20 and ibuprofen. My eyelids feel heavy, and my thoughts become floaty. Laying in this giant bed is like floating away on a cloud to heaven. I make a mental note to ask Callan for mattress recommendations first thing in the morning as sleep overcomes me.
The flames are bright and hot. I feel them burning on my skin even as the snow falls from the smoky sky. I can’t seem to get out. I’m stuck.
My head lifts from the steering wheel as the horn blares and my headache turns into severe pulses as I open my eyes. The flames engulf me, there’s no way out. I’m going to die here.
“Sterling.” I hear softly but there’s no one around.
I’m desperate to break free from the car. This time, I pull so hard on my seat belt that the edge of the rough material cuts into my palm and blood drips from my skin. I let out a scream from the pain and before I know it, the fire swallows me up; every inch of my skin burning.
“Sterling.”
I jolt awake, looking around frantically. I'm sweating. I was dreaming. A nightmare, maybe? But a dream.The accident.
I stare at the ceiling. Not my ceiling though, and suddenly I’m frozen when I remember where I am. Then, I hear him, his breathing. I look over and see him staring at me with distressed eyes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a look of concern on his face.
