Chapter 11 Alondra #2
Jack raises an eyebrow as he looks at me, and I can’t help but laugh knowing what we’ve done all night.
I turn to smile at Ellie, who grins almost like she can read my mind, but when I look at Macy, I notice that somehow, amid the chaos of the last few minutes, she’s managed to fall asleep and is out cold on the arm of the couch.
“Y’all okay?” Jack asks, making the first move to enter.
“Why wouldn’t we be?” I ask, giving him a smile, setting a goal for myself to walk back to the couch without tripping.
Ellie levels the guys with a look I didn’t think she had in her. I feel like it’s rare to even see Ellie without a smile on her face, let alone one of annoyance. “See? We’re fine. You didn’t need to come check on us.”
Jack crosses his arms, and it’s really not my fault my eyes go straight to his biceps. Wow. Gina, Veronica, or Ava are really going to reap the benefits of his hard work and dedication to hockey.
“What were you guys doing?” he asks, and I smile cheekily at him.
“It’s girls’ night.”
“Damn, I thought girls’ night meant pillow fights in your underwear?” Dylan says, looking around the room.
“Sorry to disappoint, but it’s only wine and movies,” Ellie says, and he chuckles.
“How can you watch movies if the TV isn’t on?” Jack asks, taking a seat on one of our barstools. I think he’s suspicious, but why? We look perfectly innocent, and besides, he gave me permission—kinda.
“It finished right before you got here,” I say, yawning and Ellie nods in agreement.
“Yep, so feel free to leave now.”
“Why don’t you want us here?” Dylan asks, kicking off his shoes, making it apparent he’s not planning on leaving.
“Cause we’re tired and about to go to bed,” I say, and Jack starts to smile when I point my finger at him. “That was not an invite, Jack.”
He puts his hands up in defense. “Darlin’, I didn’t even say anything,” he says, chuckling, not realizing that both Dylan’s and Ellie’s heads snap in his direction.
“Darlin’? You call Coach B’s daughter darlin’?” Dylan asks, his voice raising comically in pitch.
“Are you serious?” Ellie asks, her jaw dropping.
“I’ve told him not to call me that.” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling smug.
He rolls his eyes, dragging a hand through his hair, flexing his arm in the process. “It’s just a pet name. It doesn’t mean anything,” he says, seeming unfazed by their reactions.
Ellie stands up, opening her mouth, but quickly closes it as she sways, her face going white as a sheet.
“Oh shit,” Dylan swears, moving for her faster than I can. “Bathroom?” he asks, looking at me, and I point down the hall.
“She has her own bathroom in her room,” I say, and Dylan quickly ushers her that direction.
I grimace as the door shuts behind them, grabbing the blanket draped over the back of the couch to cover Macy with it.
She’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night to move to her room, but I don’t want her to get cold.
I stand, waiting to see if the room starts spinning, but so far, there’s only the happy, warm feeling that comes with being drunk. “Do I need to worry about you getting sick?” Jack asks as I reach for my half-full glass of wine and Ellie’s empty one to put them in the sink.
“The room isn’t spinning,” I say, walking past him, but when I turn around to grab the empty bottles and Macy’s glass. Jack is right behind me, having already gotten them. “Thanks, you didn’t have to help.”
“C’mon, you look tired. Let’s get you to bed,” he says, and while it’s already what I was planning on doing, the fact that Jack is telling me to makes me not want to go to bed.
“What if I don’t want to?” I ask, staring up at him defiantly.
“Al.”
“Jack.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his pretty blue eyes. “You’re gonna give me a headache. Let’s go.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” I argue, but I don’t even know why I’m fighting with him.
“Are you going to throw up?”
I blink, confused why he’s asking again. “I already told you no, I’m not going to throw up.” I realize why when he bends down and lifts me over his shoulder as if I weigh nothing. “Oh my god. Jack!”
He laughs, his grip tightening on the back of my thighs. “What?”
“You can’t just pick me up and throw me over your shoulder like a freaking caveman,” I protest, and a part of me wishes I was on the verge of throwing up so I could vomit on him. I guess the muscles in his arms serve a purpose beyond just making him look good.
“You know, you don’t have to argue with me all the time,” Jack says, opening the door to my room. “Is this going to be a regular thing? Me taking care of you when you’re drunk?”
I reach down, pinching his butt, and he barks out a laugh. “I didn’t ask you to come over and check on us.”
“No, but you should be thanking me because now Dylan is helping Ellie instead of you,” he says, setting me gently on the bed.
“What about Macy?” I ask, and Jack shrugs.
“I think she’s fine on the couch.”
I frown, crossing my arms over my chest. “That’s rude.”
“How is it rude?” he asks, reaching to turn on my lamp, filling the room with a soft glow.
“Because you’re in here taking care of me, Dylan’s taking care of Ellie, and no one is taking care of Macy. Why aren’t you taking care of Macy?”
The corners of Jack’s mouth tilt up in a smile. “If you’d stop finding reasons to fight with me, I’d tell you how I’m going to step out of the room to get you water and check on Macy who looked pretty damn peaceful on the couch, so you can get changed into pajamas.”
Goddamn, how is he so nice? “You were going to check on Macy?” I ask, reaching up to pull my hair out of the clip it’s in, my curls spilling down.
“Yeah,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Do you like her?” I ask, my mouth apparently lacking a filter, and despite the fact I spent all night with Ellie and Macy on the hunt for a girlfriend for Jack, I don’t want him to like Macy.
I don’t know why because Jack is once again proving to me what a nice guy he is, and Macy deserves a nice guy, but I don’t want it to be him.
“Al, I’m not interested in Macy,” he says, and I nod, adjusting to sit in a crisscross position.
“Right,” I drawl, mimicking his accent. “You’re not interested in anyone. Maybe you just haven’t found the yee to your haw.” I yawn again, and Jack laughs, shaking his head at me.
“I think you had too much wine to drink.”
“I didn’t have that much. Besides, do you really have room to judge, Mr. Hockey Star? I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of nights partying.”
Jack shakes his head, scratching his jaw. “Nope. I don’t drink. I go mostly to keep an eye on everyone, but I’m sober the entire time.”
“Cause of your dad?” The words slip out before I can even try to keep them in, and I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, noting how he tenses at the mention of his dad, and I’m ready to hide under the covers now for the rest of my life. I blame the wine.
“It’s okay, Al. Yeah, I don’t drink cause of my dad,” Jack says, and I feel worse than awful. “I’ll give you a sec to get changed. Do you need anything else?”
“No. Thank you, though,” I say, dragging my hand over my face, hearing the soft click of my door closing behind him.
I get my shirt and bra off with no problem, pulling an oversized T-shirt over my head, but my leggings bunch around my knees, causing me to lose my balance and land on the floor in a heap. I sigh, staring at the ceiling for a moment, admitting defeat.
Jack’s not going to be upset about the dating app, right? At the most, he gets a girlfriend, and at the least, he suffers through a date. Maybe he’ll even come out of it with a really good story.
There’s a soft knock on my door before it opens. “Why are you on the floor?” he asks, holding my water bottle in his hands.
“I got stuck taking off my pants,” I admit, and he offers me a hand, pulling me into a standing position so I can move toward the bed again, sitting on the edge.
“You should drink some water,” he says, handing it to me, but I’m glad I haven’t taken a drink yet because he lowers himself to his knees, and I’m honestly not sure if I’m breathing or not when he takes my ankle, taking his time to pull the fabric down my calf.
His fingertips brush over the sensitive skin on the back of my knee, and my whole body feels like it’s been plugged into an outlet, electricity sending sparks through me.
His hands are huge, and I’m suddenly very aware of the ache beginning to grow in me.
Is there a chance I might not be as broken as I think I am if my body is reacting like this to Jack?
I didn’t think it was possible after all the ways it was used against me, but if this is what it feels like to come back to life, it feels like a step in the right direction.
I shift on the bed, trying to ignore the pressure building, but it only causes his eyes to travel up to meet mine. “Al?”
“Yeah?” I ask, my voice breathless while my mind pictures Jack on his knees in front of me for an entirely different reason. I really shouldn’t, and maybe that’s the reason it feels so damn good.
His hands are warm as they make the final move to pull them off, his eyes never leaving mine until he grabs the shorts I had pulled out and set on the bed before falling on the ground.
“You okay?” he asks, looking at me through his dark lashes.
I wonder what it would feel like to have Jack touch me everywhere if an innocent touch from a beautiful man on his knees is enough to have me panting over him like a dog in heat.
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod, and Jack pulls his lower lip into his mouth as he helps me into the shorts, my breath catching as his touch dances higher up my thighs.
It’s nice to have someone else take care of me.
I rest my hands on his broad shoulders, standing up as his hands pull the shorts up underneath the fabric of my long shirt. His touch is respectful, skating back down over the curve of my hips, and damn it, I don’t want him to be respectful right now.
Jack is slow to rise into a standing position, and who knew that having someone dress you could be such an intimate experience?
I certainly didn’t, but I would give anything to read his mind to know what Jack’s thinking as his baby blue gaze dances over my face, and his throat bobs when he swallows.
I turn away, grabbing my water bottle off my nightstand to take a drink, but my pulse isn’t slowing.
He clears his throat, and I hope I’m imagining the tension in the room. “I should check on Dylan and Ellie, and you should get some sleep,” Jack says, his voice a low rumble like thunder during a summer storm.
It feels wrong for some reason, pulling the sheets back and letting him walk away, despite knowing it’s the right move.
Two weeks ago, I didn’t want to call Jack my friend or be in the same room with him, but tonight, I don’t want him to leave.
It’s the alcohol talking, and there’s a chance I’ll regret it tomorrow, but the worst he can say is no.
“Wait,” I say, sitting down. Jack looks back at me and I don’t want him to go. “Will you stay?”
“Sure,” he says after a moment, walking around to the other side of my bed to lie next to me as I try not to focus on how at ease I feel having him here. “You want to tell me what y’all really did tonight?”
I roll to face him, a nervous laugh escaping me. “What makes you think we didn’t have a wine and movie night?”
“Your face just now.” Jack chuckles, his lips curling up into a smile.
“It was movies and wine for girls’ night,” I repeat, batting my lashes at him.
“If that’s the story you’re sticking to.”
I face away from him, pulling the blankets up. “Yes, because that’s what we did.”
“C’mere,” he says, giving me a brief warning before he pulls me against him. The weight of his arm draped over my side is a comfort I should protest. Except, much like the desired effect of a weighted blanket, I find it hard to keep my eyes open.
“You’re warm,” I mumble.
“You’re drunk. Close your eyes, Alondra,” Jack says.
This time, when my eyes shut, I don’t open them until I wake the next morning in my bed alone, wondering how much of last night I imagined and what was real.