ALL THE THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU
23
Jack : You guys having fun?
Prudence : We are.
Jack : Are you upset with me?
Prudence : Not.
Prudence : But I wish you told me.
Jack : I’m sorry.
Prudence : I hope you are having a nice date.
Prudence : The best date.
Prudence : You deserve love.
Jack : Are you drunk?
Prudence : Maybe.
Prudence : Tell Ikram that if he breaks your heart I’ll break him.
Jack : Wow. Harsh, Prue.
Prudence : I love you.
PRUDENCE
Why is the earth rotating so fast? It’s all so… Blurry out there. The lights are lighting. It’s pretty, but why are they all… Mixed? They look like… Streaks?
“Come on, I’ll help you get inside,” the soft, deep, kind of sexy voice says in my ear.
Why is it in my ear? Oh. Right. I almost fell out of the car and he’s holding me up. He’s so strong. And tall. And smells nice. Would it be weird if I… Sniffed him?
“Feel free to sniff as much as you need, but please, try to stay up.”
Oh. I thought I was talking in my head. Is he also talking in my head?
“Not in your head, sweetness. Come on, use your legs.”
I groan. My feet hurt from dancing, and I’m holding my platform shoes in my hand. I don’t want to put them back on. They hurt even more.
Please, incredibly sexy voice, give me a pair of sneakers.
I hear him chuckle and I groan again. “I don’t have a pair of sneakers on hand, sadly.”
Alright, I’m definitely drunk. Because even though I realize that I can’t seem to think in my head anymore, I can’t be bothered to care or be embarrassed.
He sighs and I sigh back. I can’t walk. Too much effort for my weak ass legs.
And then, the world is turning again and my feet are not touching the ground anymore. I let out a yelp.
“Oh my god, I’m falling, I’m gonna die!”
“You’re not falling. I’ve got you.”
I feel an arm under my knees and in my back. I open one of my eyes and try to focus hard enough for the world around me to stop spinning. I can still see. I’m not dead. And I feel so comfy, my side plastered against something warm and hard and… God, that smells good. I love that smell. It reminds me of something. Something safe. But I frown. Forbidden. This smell is forbidden.
“Is it?” the sexy voice asks playfully, and I move, but my feet are still not touching the ground.
“It is!” I whisper yell. What if the smell hears me?
“And… What if it was not?”
“Not what?”
The world stops moving in front of a door. Ugly glass door. And the comfortable warm thing surrounding me freezes. “Fuck.” he says. Why is this voice so sexy?
“Not what?” I ask again.
“Forbidden,” his voice is soft. Low. Like a raspy whisper. “What if it wasn’t forbidden?”
He turns around after a pause and he fidgets a little before walking back towards the car.
“Where are we going?” I ask, nuzzling my face in his neck, inhaling deeply.
“There’s a tie on the handle.”
“You’re not making any sense,” I sigh.
“It means the person inside is probably having sex, Prue. Your brother is inside. With Ikram.”
I giggle. I’m comfortable talking about sex. Except with that forbidden smell. I’m not sure why. “Good for him. But where are we going?”
“We’re not going to interrupt whatever is happening inside that house, sweetness.”
“Why are you calling me sweetness? It’s—”
“Come on, I’ve got a spare room. You need to sleep the alcohol off and drink water, or you’ll have a deadly headache tomorrow.”
I feel just fine. I want to keep talking to that voice. Smelling him. I feel—
He stops. Are we there yet? It feels like just one minute ago we were in front of the house Jack is having sex in…
“Hold on to me, Prue. I need to open the door.”
He doesn’t have to ask me twice. I wrap my arms around his neck and shoulders burying my face deeper in the space where they meet. Per-fect. I can feel how warm his skin is when it’s not covered by the shirt. And that spot in his neck? Uncovered skin.
Amazing. Uncovered. Skin.
Should I ask him to take his shirt off?
“You shouldn’t,” he mutters, his voice strained, and I’m almost certain I can feel his heart beat faster.
Right. He can hear my mind. Or do I speak it? I’m not sure anymore.
I hear the door open, but I don’t let go of my hold. One of his arms just under my knees, the other going back to my back now that the door is closed behind us. I feel so comfortable that I’m considering appointing him my new pillow. Or new couch. Maybe even new bed.
He chuckles. The deep sound so close to my ear sends a shiver through my spine, the thin hairs on my arms rising as goosebumps erupt on my skin. It takes everything in my power not to let my toes curl as well.
The dark room lights up slowly and stops at a warm tone. He takes a couple of steps and I feel him lift me higher. My arms tighten around him in response.
“You have to let go, sweetness. Can you sit?”
“I’m not sure, it would be safer if I stayed right where I am now.”
I feel his chest moving in silent laughter. Is he making fun of me? My savior with the sexy voice and the forbidden smell? No… He wouldn’t.
“I promise I’ll come back, but I need to get you a glass of water.”
“I’d rather have a coffee,” I mumble, just as I feel a hard surface under my ass. Did he put me on a chair?
“I’ll get you a coffee too. Water first.” He starts to step back and I’m forcing myself to let him, but he pauses. “Don’t try to lean on anything, there’s no backrest.”
Oh. That complicates things.
I sigh and straighten up, opening my eyes a little to look in front of me.
Wow. I’m high. Am I sitting on a bar stool? No. Feels higher. I place my hand on the surface under my ass and I come to the quick conclusion that I’m definitely not on a stool. More like a… Smooth marble countertop? I look down at it, and it’s definitely a countertop. But not marble. It’s some kind of mixed light stone.
I grip the edge a little tighter when I feel my head swirling a little and lift my gaze to focus in front of me.
Oh, this is a pretty house. The walls are white but some of them are covered in uneven stripes of wooden boards where plants are hanging and little candles are placed. A little farther, a large living room with a huge gray sectional covered in haphazardly thrown blankets. The square coffee table in front of it is covered in clutter and on the other side of it all, an unlit iron fireplace, just under a wall mounted flat screen TV.
There are lots of artistic photographs on the walls, potted plants on the floor and furniture.
This house has a soul. It’s a home.
My view is suddenly obstructed by the bearer of the forbidden smell and our eyes meet for the first time since I fell down by the car.
Blue. So, so blue.
I want to swim in it.
“You can’t. But I hear the Ocean is quite nice this time of the year…”
He grabs my hand softly, and makes me close it around a cool glass filled with what looks to be water.
“I don’t want water…” I say, my brows pulling down in a pout.
“You’ll have your coffee after. Drink up.”
He tilts my arm up, bringing the glass to my mouth and I drink. Big gulps. Wow. It actually feels so good. I guess I was parched.
“Good,” he says when I sigh in relief once the glass is empty. “Do you need another one?” I shake my head and he nods, taking the glass out of my hand, replacing it with a warm mug of heavenly scented coffee.
Yeah, that’s the stuff.
I cup the mug with both of my hands, enjoying the feel of it warming my palms, and our eyes meet again.
He’s standing so close, wrapping me in his masculine, safe smell. He shouldn’t stand this close.
It’s forbidden.
“What if it was not forbidden?” He asks again, voice barely above a whisper.
“Hm?” I ask, my eyes dropping to that spot on his cheek where a dimple sometimes appears.
“You know, I was always dying to know what was in your mind,” he says, and I’m almost certain that his nose is almost touching mine. “To see the world the way you see it when you draw.” He pauses and my breath hitch.
“And you don’t anymore?”
“Now I realize that you being drunk, is you opening a window into your head. And even though you’re giving your thoughts freely—thoughts that my ego is absolutely loving, by the way—I don’t feel comfortable with you sharing them.”
Now I’m sure of it. The tip of his nose brushed mine. And his breath is warm against my mouth. He’s definitely too close. And I’m loving every second of it.
“Why?”
The corner of his lips tilts up. “Because you wouldn’t want to share those thoughts if you weren’t drunk. In fact, if you remember any of this tomorrow, you’ll be absolutely mortified.”
I will. But I can’t help it.
“Does your ego need a reality check?” I whisper, my eyes drifting to his lips for a second. “Because I can tell you all the things I hate about you too…”
I feel the small puffs of air against my skin as he laughs silently. When he doesn’t stop me, I start talking again.
“I hate when you go all alpha caveman all the time,” I say, my voice too high pitched and a little slurry. “And I hate that because of you I feel so ugly and dumb and insecure.”
His throat bobs and jaw ticks once. Twice.
“I hate that you didn’t tell me you knew Douchebag Ortega when you asked me about him. I hate that the more time I spend with you the more time I want to. I hate that it’s my fault you and Jack—”
“It’s not.” He interrupts so quickly it sounds like he forgot to take a breath.
“It is.”
“No, it’s not. And my ego is fine, now, thank you.”
“I wasn’t done,” I breathe and he chuckles, shaking his head slowly and our nose brushing each time.
“I bet.”
We’re too close. And I can’t seem to find the strength to push him away. Both of his hands are placed on the counter, right next to my thighs, caging me in. I lift the mug tentatively to my lips and he pulls away just enough so I don’t hit his nose with it.
“Do you want to hear all the things I hate about me?” He asks, stepping just a little closer so his hips are touching the inside of my knees. “Because I’m sure I hate me more than you do, sweetness.”
My hands drop a little, bringing the warm mug against my stomach. I stare into his bottomless blue pools and I’m surprised with all the pain I see there.
“I hate that you have reasons to hate me,” he says softly when I don’t stop him. “I hate that my actions caused your insecurities, because from the moment I met you, I’ve thought you were perfect. I hate that I’ve been a coward then and that I still am now. I hate that I want you so much, wanted you so much even back then that I couldn’t think straight but never had the guts to tell Jack about it. And I hate that I’m only brave enough to admit this because you’re drunk and there’s a good chance you won’t remember tomorrow.”
He stops then and I can’t look away from the raw honesty I see on his face. The pain and longing in his eyes.
“It’s forbidden,” is the only thing I manage to whisper back.
“Yeah, but what if it wasn’t ?” He whispers back, his mouth inches away from mine. “What if I took the chance and said to hell with the possible consequences, would you hate me for it? Because I can’t stand it. I can’t stand to look at you when all is fine and then see the flicker of it when you remember that it’s my fucking fault you felt like trash.”
“I don’t hate you,” I breathe.
“Would you, then? If I decided to ignore the consequences?”
I’m not sure if I’m breathing too much or not enough, but my chest is rising and falling rapidly and I’m still out of breath. My head is swirling again—although, that might be the alcohol.
“I don’t think so,” I breathe out honestly, eyes fixed on his lips. Is he going to kiss me? Oh god, I want him to. Why am I so hot?
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but it hitches again when I feel his forehead against my own.
“Yeah?”
I tilt my head to the side, sliding my nose along his cheekbone, his jaw, and stop just above that magical dimple of his. My brain doesn’t have the time to process what my lips are doing before I kiss the area that hollows when he smiles. I feel him shift, his arms tensing on the outside of my thigh, and a shiver raking over him when I move my lips a couple of times.
“Yes,” I finally say, bringing my forehead back where it was, rubbing my nose softly against his.
“Good,” he exhales and his breath warms my parted lips. “Then, let’s talk about this again when you’re sober.”
My eyes open abruptly at the same time as he steps away, breaking our connection.
“What?” I ask and he just grins, walking backwards slowly.
“I’m not a total ass. If we’re talking about this further, I want you to be fully aware and 100% sure you’ll remember this the next morning.”
“I’m not even that drunk,” I mutter.
“Maybe. If you remember tomorrow, I’ll believe you. But you drank. Enough for you not to realize you were thinking out loud for a while. And if I kiss you, I want you to be able to stop me, which you might not if you’re too drunk to think straight.”
I frown and set my mug on the counter next to me.
“Who said I wanted you to kiss me?” I ask, crossing my arms in front of me.
“You. About a minute ago. Not to forget the way you kissed my cheek.”
“I didn’t—” Say it. I thought it.
“Come on, I’ll show you to the guest room.”
I don’t want the guest room. I want his room. With his smell covering everything.
I take the hand he gives me anyway and jump off the counter, landing directly against him. I inhale deeply as he circles my waist and pulls me with him towards some stairs I haven’t seen until now.
Upstairs, he opens a room and turns the light on. It’s a simple bedroom. A double bed with a modern wooden frame covered in light gray and white bed sheets. It has two bedside tables, a chest of drawers, and a large window overlooking the ocean.
“Sit, I’ll bring you a shirt.”
I do, wanting to argue again but deciding that I’m too tired to. I kinda want to bury myself in this comfy looking bed. Even though the room doesn’t smell like him. It’ll do. For now.
He comes back a minute later with a soft white tee and crouches in front of me.
“You okay, sweetness?” He asks, placing a stray strand of hair behind my ear and I nod. “You don’t feel sick or anything? There’s a bathroom behind that door if you do.” He points towards the white door on the side wall. “And if you need anything, my room is just next to yours.”
Anything? I think, hoping that I didn’t think out loud this time. I need to sleep surrounded by his scent. Preferably surrounded by him.
His hand finds my cheek and his thumb rubs my skin softly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow. We’ll talk. Or won’t talk, whatever you want. But I hope you’ll remember at least a little from tonight and that we will. Because I’m done avoiding it.”