Page 63 of A Totally Platonic Thing
Aidan shrugged. “He’s my friend too. But dude, this is the last time. I’ll tell him that myself tomorrow once he’s sobered up, you don’t need to be the messenger or anything.”
“I think it’s the last time for me, too,” I said grimly, the words wrenching out of me and leaving a nasty, aching hollowness in their wake.
“Fuck,” Aidan said, and shook his head. “Yeah. I don’t blame you. You were working tonight too?”
Chris took a couple of deep breaths and settled down a little. And then he mumbled something against my chest and started lifting his head, trying to kiss my neck. I tried to fight him off and hold him still, but it didn’t work. Aidan’s eyebrows went up. Fucking hell, of all the ways and moments for our friends to find out our relationship had changed…right at the moment it was ending.
My stomach twisted painfully. I couldn’t. I fucking couldn’t.
“I’ll tell you about it later. Don’t worry about it.” Damn it, Chris. He’d started licking my neck and slurring something about wanting me to fuck him, and he twisted around, and I staggered a step.
“Right,” Aidan said slowly. “I’ll text you tomorrow, ’kay?”
“Sure. Later,” I called, trying to wrestle Chris.
Aidan turned and disappeared back into Aeon. I started moving, determined to get this over with as quickly as I could.
“I missed you. Fuck me,” Chris said into my neck, pawing at my chest and shoulders.
I couldn’t say anything. I felt like I might throw up if I tried.
It wasn’t easy, but I got him over to the car and stuffed into the passenger seat. He kept holding on to me, and crying, and saying my name, and then starting to laugh, and he wouldn’t unwind his arms from around my neck when I tried to get his seatbelt on, and it felt like it took hours. And every second of it made me angrier and more frustrated and more fucking sad until I wanted to sit down on the ground by the car and bury my face in my knees and cry myself.
Finally, finally I got the door shut, beeping the car locked the second I did and hoping he’d be too out of it to get out of the car again before I got in myself.
Luckily he was. Luckily. Jesus. That was my definition of luck tonight.
He started trying to grope me the second I got in and I thought we’d never get home, but a second later he passed out cold, his hand in my lap and his head lolling off his seat.
I stared down at his hand lying on the fly of my jeans. I loved those fingers. I fucking lovedhim. At this moment of all moments, I couldn’t deny it and didn’t even want to. It didn’t even feel like much of a revelation. Of course I was in love with him. Maybe I’d always been in love with him. It was like that fucked-up thing with the frog and the water starting out cold and then getting up to boiling so slowly the frog never noticed and jumped out.
And now I had to jump out whether I wanted to or not.
I really didn’t want to. I wanted to take Chris home, get in bed with him, and give him a lecture and a spanking in the morning. Let him promise me it wouldn’t happen again.
My eyes stung, and I dropped my head onto the steering wheel for a second, sucking in deep breaths and trying to keep it together.
After a minute, I carefully tipped Chris back into his seat, setting his hand in his own lap.
He looked so pitiful right then, all flushed and sweaty and miserable, eyelashes dark against his cheeks and lips parted a little. And beautiful. But he always looked beautiful, even drunk out of his mind. Even breaking my heart, he was so gorgeous and sweet and perfect, and perfectly Chris.
Of course, if he wasn’t Chris, his own wonderful self, he wouldn’t have been breaking my heart.
I got the car started and went home. I had to pull Chris out of the car and carry him up the stairs bridal-style, maneuver him in the door without dropping him or banging his head on something, and get him laid out in his bed, shoes off, turned on his side. I knew the drill on that.
He didn’t wake up, not even a twitch. No way he’d remember any of this in the morning.
That was going to make all of this so much fucking harder. Not only would I have to tell him the consequences for how he’d behaved, I’d have to explain how he’d behaved in the first place.
I checked my phone. Two-fifteen. And no way would I be going to sleep after this.
I could stay here and keep vigil over Chris, make sure he was okay throughout the night. That would screw me even more than I’d already been screwed.
I could try to go to bed.
Not happening.
Or I could call Aidan and ask for yet another favor that he didn’t owe me and I probably couldn’t repay.
