Page 57 of Powerless
“Sunny, I’m not sure this is the moment where you’ll come up with your best ideas.”
“You calling me drunk, Gervais?” she hollers from the small room. I hear shuffling in there as I peel off my shoes and straighten hers by the door.
“Never. You are perfectly sober. But I’m going to grab you a bottle of water and you’re going to drink it, alright?”
“Are there any of those small bottles of Grand Marnier or whatever? Hotels are always stocked with alcohol that nobody drinks. I mean, who drinks Grand Marnier?”
I huff out a quiet laugh and pad over to the fridge. There are two bottles of water. “I don’t think this is a Grand Marnier type of hotel.”
She pops out from the bathroom doorway as soon as I straighten, with one plastic bottle in each hand. But she has some bottles of her own that she’s holding out.
“Facials!” she squeals.
“What?” I blink once, staring at her soft blonde hair and happy eyes.
She holds up a purple squeeze bottle and a green glass tub of something and shakes them at me like I’m stupid. “I’ll drink your water if you give me a facial.”
Gotta say, the first place my head goes is not to beauty products.
“Don’t worry. I’ll give you one too.”
The image of Sloane straddling my face, my hands on her ass while she stares down into my eyes, flashes into my mind.
It’s not the first time. Usually, I push the thought away, but tonight I’m feeling just loose enough to let it linger. To watch her move. To think about the sounds she might make.
“Buck up, Gervais!” She hops onto the bed, drops the skin care products on the mattress, and gestures me toward her, fingers folding down onto her palm.
Seriously, not helping. All the blood in my body rushes south, and I cover by tossing her a bottled water. “Drink this first,” I say as it flies.
But her reflexes are slow tonight and the bottle hits her in the face.
Square in the nose.
The guys and I toss each other water bottles on the bench all the time. It’s second nature. She flinches hard, and I gasp as I take long strides over to the bed to check on her. Her hands are clasped over her face, and her fingers move to check herself over.
I feelawful.I feelsick.The thought of anyone hurting Sloane—even me—has fire coursing through my veins.
When I reach for her shoulder, she peers up at me and she . . .
Bursts out laughing.
“Jas! You just threw that at my face, you awkward motherfucker!”
“I didn’t!” I’m shaking my head in denial. “I didn’t mean to! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”
She laughs harder. “I’m fine! I’m fine. Totally fine.” Her words wheeze out around her laughter.
My palms squeeze her shoulders in time, which draws her attention up to my face. “Sunny, you are crazed right now. You need to drink some water.”
Her lips roll inward as she fights to hold it together. “Okay.” She nods and opens the water bottle beside her. She lifts it almost to her lips and stops, looks away, and bursts out laughing again. “I can’t believe you smoked me in the face like that!”
I scrub at my stubble, trying not to laugh, but it’s infectious. “I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. But it’s still funny.”
I cross my arms now, trying to convey how serious I am to her. “It’s not funny.”
“That’s only because you didn’t see your face.” She contorts her features into a very exaggerated expression of horrified shock.
