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DRAKE:I knew you would.
ME:Thank you for helping…
DRAKE:You’re welcome
I put my phone on the counter, topping off the glass and taking a swig from the bottle before setting it back down. When my phone buzzed again, I jumped.
DRAKE:What are you doing to celebrate?
I looked again at the empty box of chicken nuggets and the opened, already partially eaten pack of Oreos, and I winced. There was no way I was going to tell him the truth.
ME:Nothing.
DRAKE:Why?
ME:Everyone is busy.
When the message showed read but he didn’t respond, my stomach churned. Was I relieved I didn’t have to explain my junk food filled plans or disappointed he wasn’t interested in more details? Before I could determine which it was, my phone lit up. Drake.
“Hello?” I asked.
“Let me take you to dinner,” he said, skipping any pleasantry.
I shook my head like he could see me through the phone, digging into my drawer for one of the potholders my great-grandmother had made. “I’m not hungry,” I said, opening the oven.
Drake grumbled on the other end of the line. “What is it with you and dinner?”
“What?” I asked, dropping the tray of nuggets on top of the stove and turning off the timer before it could ding. I picked one off the tray, dropping it again when it burned my finger. Every damn time.
“You always say you’re not hungry. You need to eat,” he said.
I picked up the same nugget, taking a bite of the end and sucking air quickly into my mouth to cool it down before it could burn my tongue more. “I eat,” I told him. “Another time, okay? I’m already in my pajamas.”
“Okay, fine.” Drake gave in a bit too easily, but I was tired and hungry, so I accepted it. I was sure whatever he had wanted to say would come back and get me at the office tomorrow anyways. “Congratulations, angel.”
My stomach filled with butterflies that fought their way into my throat, and I grinned. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Something like that.” Then he hung up the phone.
What the hell did that mean? Brushing it off, I filled a plate with chicken nuggets and balanced the pack of Oreos in the crook of my arm. I grabbed the half-empty bottle of wine and my freshly filled glass, and I made my way to the couch. The curtains were closed, so I knew none of my neighbors could see me throw my feet up onto the coffee table and toss a still-too-hot nugget in my mouth.
When the plate was mostly empty and I was too full to finish, I set it on the coffee table. The TV hummed, but I wasn’t paying attention to what was happening anymore. I pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around me. My eyes started to feel heavy, weighted down by the amount of junk food I’d eaten and exhaustion.
Before my eyes could close and I could justify a barely-past-sunset early bedtime, there was a knock on the door. I jerked awake, sitting straight up and pulling the blanket tighter as if it protected me from a threat that wasn’t even there. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, agreeing with my sudden urge to panic. Should I pretend I’m not here?
Then another knock. “Open up, angel!”
Drake? I grumbled and slid off the couch, only half surprised at the way my panic had turned to excitement with the stupid nickname I was starting to like.
I opened the door to reveal Drake standing with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a bottle of champagne. “What are you doing here?” I asked him, biting back a yawn.
“You should at least celebrate a little bit.” He smiled and held up the bottle. “Can I come in?”
Chapter twenty-four
Drake
“Cheers to you,” Amanda giggled, holding her champagne glass out but tucking her legs beneath her on the couch. There was a light blush on her cheeks that traveled to her neck and disappeared under her thin sweatshirt.
