Page 119 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
He shakes his head, the movement making him sway. "But you left, so I drank. Are you mad at me?"
He leans forward, and his forehead bumps against mine—too hard, like he can't control his movements. I keep him upright, steadying him with my hands on his shoulders.
"Okay, let's get you to the bathroom and then into bed."
"Are you leaving?"
"No."
I help him stand, his weight heavy against my side as we navigate to the bathroom. He's unsteady on his feet, listing to the left, and I have to brace myself to keep us both from falling.
In the bathroom, I position him in front of the toilet and unzip his pants. I pull out his dick and aim into the toilet.
He laughs, the sound loose and uninhibited. "Are you a professional dick holder now?"
"Shh and pee."
He pees for what feels like an eternity, still chuckling to himself.
When he's done, I zip him back up and guide him to the bedroom. He collapses onto the bed, and I start removing his shirt, knowing he prefers to sleep shirtless.
"You're the best thing to ever happen to me, Harper."
"You're so drunk."
"I love you so fucking much." He reaches up and boops my nose with his finger, making me laugh despite everything.
"There's that beautiful smile," he says, his own smile crooked and devastatingly sweet.
"Okay, Cole. Get into bed."
"You're staying? Are you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad. We'll talk in the morning."
He finally lies back against the pillows. "Come here."
"I will. I need to shower first."
"Don't leave."
"I'm not leaving. I promise."
When I return from the shower, he's passed out for good, breathing deep and even. I crawl onto my side of the bed and just stare at him in the darkness. My heart clenches at the sight of him. He’s so beautiful.
"I love you so much, Cole," I whisper. "I'm scared of how much I love you."
Finally, with him beside me, I'm able to fall asleep.
I wake to the sound of running feet. Cole's gone from the bed.
I chase after him and find him in the bathroom, throwing up in the sink. He wipes his mouth and looks at me, eyes bloodshot.
"You came back?"
"You got drunk?"
He turns on the water, washing his vomit down the drain. The stench makes my stomach turn. "What'd you expect? You pack your things and leave, and I'd be––"
