20. Wren
20
WREN
…a few weeks later
It’s near on sunset, and Fern and I may have had a cocktail too many this afternoon. We are up on her and Bradford’s deck, which is just as awesome as Stefan’s but instead of the hot tub, theirs has a fireplace. Not that you need a fireplace in LA but the ambiance of drinking by a fire is great.
Arm in arm, she walks me out and the two of us are giggling like schoolgirls. “Thank you for this afternoon. I needed it.”
“Youd may not says that tomorrow when you wake with the hangover from hell but we can blame José for tasting so good,” she slurs.
“Yesd, tis José’s faults,” I hiccup and then giggle when I realize, I too am slurring.
Pulling her in for a hug, I lean back and stare at my gorgeous friend. “Dis was the bestest afternoon but next timed, don’t drops de cheesedball.”
“Hey, snot mys fault Mr. Woolley gots dit before meds.”
“Goods shluck wis that. I’ve hearded dogds shits are, well, shitty to cleand up.”
“Pissed off homes, you wench.”
“Loves youd tood, wench,” I singsong as I open the side door and make my way down to the boardwalk.
She sings out, “Tood-a-loo musderfucker” and I chuckle. Waving over my shoulder, I step onto the boardwalk and head home. Fern begins to cackle like a hyena when I stumble over my feet. I just shake my head and flip her the bird. She’s a crazy gal but she’s a crazy gal I’ve come to love, and when her bestie, Calliope, or Cali as everyone calls her, comes for a visit, she’s even crazier.
The fresh sea air slams into me, and my drunkenness amps up. I’m a little more drunk than I thought I was but, thankfully, Stefan’s place is only a few houses down so it doesn’t take me too long to walk—stagger—home.
When I reach the house, I hear muffled voices from down the side alley. Peeking around, I see Alicia and her boyfriend, Tyrone. They look to be having a hush-hush but heated argument. Not wanting to intrude, I walk backward away from them but in my drunken state, I trip over my feet. Ending up on my ass, I stare up at the sky and in the process, I garner the attention of the arguing couple. Tyrone marches over to me, his large frame looms above and he stares menacingly down at me. “What did you hear?” he hisses, spittle flying out of his mouth.
“Huh?” I ask.
“What. Did. You. Hear?” he growls again.
“Nnnnothings,” I stammer. “Iiis justs gots here’d,” I tell him but before I can say anything else Stefan arrives.
“What’s going on?” he shouts and when he comes over and sees me on the ground, a murderous look appears on his face. “Wren, what happened? Why are you on the ground?”
Before I can answer, Tyrone answers for me. “She’s drunk and fell over. I was just about to help her up when you arrived.” And playing the “helpful hero” role, he reaches out and grabs my upper arm. Squeezing tightly, he wrenches me up to my feet, causing me to once again stumble.
Pulling my arm free, I lose my balance and fall into Stefan. He wraps his arms around me. “I got you,” he murmurs and when I lift my gaze, I see concern etched on his face.
“You’s shaveds,” I drunkenly stammer and I run my fingers over his smooth scruff-free jaw.
“And you’re drunk,” he replies.
“I’ms fines,” I tell him and no sooner do I say that, everything turns black.
“Ugh,” I groan as I roll onto my side and into something hard. My eyes snap open, and I see a muscular back before me. “Shit. Shit. Shit,” I hiss. Who the fuck is in the bed next to me? I don’t remember much after leaving Fern’s last night but surely I came straight home. I wouldn’t have stopped off at a bar, would I????
“You’re awake,” a deep voice growls. They roll over to face me and my eyes widen in shock when I see it’s Stefan. Relief at knowing the person filters through me and I relax a little. Then my eyes widen once again when I realize Stefan is in my bed and, I’m lifting the covers quickly, I see I’m in a Legends shirt that is not mine. My gaze snaps back to his and the asshole has a smirk on his face.
“Did we…” I quickly ask. My heart races as I await his answer.
“Have sex?” he asks, there’s glee in his tone and I hate it. Nodding, I anxiously wait for him to answer me. “No, we did not. I prefer my partners to be awake when I fuck them. Somnophelia is not really my jam.”
An unladylike snort slips out. “So there is something that Stefan D?uchmen won’t fuck.”
“Excuse me, I may be kind of a manwhore but even I have standards.”
“Kind of? I’d say you’re the president of the manwhore association.”
“I like to think of myself as king of the manwhores.”
“Shall I get you a crown?”
“I won’t say no to a crown.”
“Conceited much?”
Nonchalantly he shrugs before he climbs out of bed. He’s only in a pair of black boxer briefs. The material hugs his ass perfectly and when he turns around, my mouth drops open. His morning wood is proudly standing to attention and it’s poking out the top of his briefs. The mushroom head of his thick dick glistens in the morning light.
“Put some clothes on,” I snap and cover my eyes, but I peek at him through the slits between my fingers because, hello, half-naked hockey player. He really is a fine specimen … even if he is a douche. The day he was created, the angels were have a fan-fucking-tabolous day.
“I can see you peeking,” he teases as he pulls his pants on.
“Was not,” I quickly refute. I run my fingers through my hair but I don’t get far due to the knots that are no doubt forming a bird’s nest right now. How’s that for fate, a half-naked hockey player and I look like a homeless bum.
“Let’s agree to disagree.” He chortles and then points to my bedside table. “There’s water and headache tablets there for you.”
“Thanks,” I tell him. That’s a really sweet gesture and it’s confusing me. Like I know he can be sweet, I’ve seen it, but this is like super sweet. “Stefan,” I ask. “Why are you here?”
“You were drunk, Wren. I wasn’t going to leave you alone. What if you vomited in your sleep and you choked on it and died? Who would ride my ass when I do stupid shit if you were gone?”
“Stefan,” I deadpan. “There’s a long line of people who would like to ride your ass and I?—”
“That’s stating the obvious,” he cheekily informs me with a waggle of his eyebrows … and a smirk that has the potential to melt panties.
“Oh My God, you’re so vain.”
“No, that’s a song by Carly Simon. I’m confident in my body … and I know how to use my dick.”
“Definition of vain,” I inform him, but my eyes drop to his crotch. The cocky douche smirks at me before pulling his shirt over his head, making an effort to showcase his abs and dick.
Turning my back to him, I can’t help the grin on my face. He does have a spectacular physique, but I’m not going to stroke his ego by admitting that out loud. Reaching over, I pick up the pills he left and uncap the bottle of water. Popping them into my mouth, I take a sip and swallow. My mouth feels less ashtrayish now, but my head is throbbing as if I’m at a rave.
“You feel like eggs?” he asks.
Nodding, I sit here and watch as he walks out of my room, closing the door behind him. Stefan constantly surprises me, and when douche Stefan is not around, I can actually stand the guy. He’s really not half bad … I must still be drunk to be thinking that but deep down, I know I’m not. Stefan is a nice guy, and I’m starting to become confused about my feelings when it comes to him.