I shake my head and laugh as I help him wobble to the front door. He weighs twice as much as me but I somehow support his weight.
I know it’s a bad idea to go inside but I do it anyway. I don’t want him to fall and hurt himself. He is all alone. And I need to make sure he is okay.
I manage to get him upstairs to his bedroom. He struggles to remove his shoes so I help him out. I pull his sheets back and tell him to get in. He crawls over the blankets and manages to get under the sheets. I walk into his bathroom and get him a glass of water and some Advil. I place them by his bed. I turn to leave but stop at his words.
“Wait, T. Please stay.”
“I can’t,” I whisper.
“I don’t want this dream to end.”
“What dream?” I croak, barely holding in my emotions.
“The one where you’re mine.”
My heart breaks. I want nothing more than to be his. I don’t think there is anything I have ever wanted more.
I find my feet walking over to him. I sit on the edge of the bed and notice he took his shirt off. I gulp down the emotions ready to erupt. “Just for a little,” I squeak. “I’ll lie here until you fall asleep.”
I don’t know if I am telling him that for him or my own good. I lay down on top of the blankets but he tsks at me. I giggle as I take off my shoes and crawl under the blankets next to him.
This is a bad idea.
But I will only be here for a few minutes. He’s drunk. He is sure to fall asleep before I lay my head down.
But it doesn’t happen. I rest my head on the pillow next to his and his massive arm wraps around my stomach and pulls me into him.
I feel so tense laying here. I know this is wrong. I pray that he will fall asleep at any moment. But then he starts to stroke my hair and I relax into his chest. I feel his lips barely touch my neck, I’m not sure if I imagined it or not.
His breathing becomes even and I know he is asleep. I allow myself a few minutes to relish in the feeling of his arms around me. This is the only time it will happen. And I don’t want this dream to end either. My eyes grow heavy and before I can get out of bed, I drift to sleep.
* * *
The light of the morning shines on my face through the window. I must have forgotten to close the curtains last night. I roll over to block the sun from my face. Then I notice the sheets are navy, not white. I take a deep whiff and the smell of Ryder infiltrates my nose. I quickly reach down and pat my body, relieved to find clothes on.
Then my memory comes rushing back. He was drunk, I drove him home, I fell asleep next to him. I jolt upright, grabbing my head.What is wrong with me?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and find my shoes. I pull them on and rush down the stairs hoping he went for a run or something. The thought of facing him now is mortifying. He probably doesn’t remember a thing. He was probably confused as hell or maybe even pissed when he woke up to find me laying next to him.
I go to make a run for the front door when I see Ryder standing in the kitchen, his back to me as he leans over the kitchen counter. He still hasn’t put a shirt on and I can see every defined muscle of his back, rigid and solid and tense.
Despite my better judgment, I walk over to him. When I am three feet away he turns, feeling my presence.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
“Don’t be,” I say.
He rubs his hands over his face. “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk.”
“You did it intentionally.”
“How did you know?”
“You wanted me to talk. And you knew I would never let you drive that drunk.”
“I am sorry. I just didn’t know how to get through to you.”
I see the sincerity in his eyes. I can tell he means what he says. At first I thought he wanted to talk because he just wanted to get laid. But deep down that isn’t Ryder. He wouldn’t destroy the relationship with his fiancée for a quick fuck. I can see it in his eyes that he is just as confused as I am over the feelings we are both having. Maybe this was all a mistake from the beginning, I never should have asked him to tell me his secrets and we never should have met at the lake. But maybe fate has things planned for us.