Chapter 30 #2
Gemma rests her hands on Hope’s shoulders, smiling broadly. “Well, aren’t you a sight to behold?” she gushes, as her eyes rake over her body. “Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are?”
Hope’s face flush bright red, clearly not used to being the centre of attention.
“Give the poor woman some space, Gem. You’ll scare her off before she even gets a chance to have some fun.” Jason’s words come as he joins us, appearing right beside me with a beer in hand.
We greet each other with a slightly awkward man-hug, his strength nearly crushing me in the process.
“Jase, Chris, Gemma, this is my friend Hope. Hope, meet the gang.”
“It’s nice to meet you all,” she says sweetly.
All three welcome her with a kiss on the cheek, Gemma going a step further—pulling her into a hug and looping an arm through Hope’s, which she happily accepts.
“Let’s leave the boys to themselves and grab you a drink, yeah?” She doesn’t give Hope a chance to respond, already pulling her through the crowd towards the open kitchen.
Hope glances over her shoulder at me, and I give a quick nod and smile, letting her know she’s in good hands.
“Okay, where in the world did you find that goddess?” Chris asks, and Jason just snorts into his beer.
“It’s a long and complicated story, one I doubt your tipsy brain could handle right now.”
The night is still young, and Chris is already plastered, which likely explains why he’s wandering around without a shirt on. If I could guess, it’s probably destroyed and left somewhere he won’t find until a month later.
“Are you sure she’s just a friend? Because the way your eyes keep following her, I’m starting to think there’s more to this little friendship of yours,” he adds.
Judging by the nearly identical smirks on Chris and Jason’s faces, I’d say I’ve been doing a pretty piss-poor job of hiding my interest in Hope.
“Nah. I’m just making sure she’s alright. She hasn’t been to something like this in a while, so she’s a little nervous.”
“Sure, brother. Whatever you say,” Chris teases, tossing me a wink.
“Leave the poor bloke alone. He can be friends with a woman without wanting to rip her clothes off,” Jason says, as always coming to my rescue.
That is, until he and Chris exchange a look and burst out laughing.
Clearly, I’m the butt of the joke here.
“Fuck the both of you!” I say lightly, not confrontational in the least—though I mean it all the same.
That only makes them laugh louder, and I have to fight the urge to kick them both in the kneecaps.
“What’s so funny?” Gemma asks as she and Hope, now cradling a glass of white wine, come back to join us.
The boys’ laugher ceases immediately, and Jason has the audacity to wink at me.
Arsewipe!
“I got this for you.” Hope hands me a Heineken Zero, a non-alcoholic beer, and I smile in thanks as I take it, appreciating the consideration behind the gesture, after telling her earlier that I don’t really drink anymore.
We stand around just casually chatting and catching up, most of the questions directed at Hope, which she answers each one with a smile.
When Chris launches into a story about a drunk woman who tried to shank him with a broken glass last weekend at the bar after he cut her off, I catch Hope’s gaze and silently mouth, You good?
She gives me a quick nod and a sincere smile, and the faint knot of nervous tension in my stomach finally eases.
Throughout the night, I simply watch her with my friends, noticing how her body gradually relaxes as she grows more at ease around them—and with every glass of wine. Her laughter is contagious, a genuine sound that penetrates deep into my bones.
Chris was right. I can’t seem to stop looking at her, my gaze finding hers again and again, even as more people drift over to join us.
When Gemma grabs Hope’s hand and pulls her into the centre of the room to dance, I almost forget how to breathe.
Hope’s movements are downright sinful—hypnotic, the slow, fluid sway of her soft, curvy hips falling perfectly in time with the rhythm. She looks breathtaking, unguarded, completely lost in the moment, and I can’t tear my eyes away.
The song Dance With Me by 112 starts playing through the surround-sound speakers, mid-way through my conversation with Jason. When my eyes land on Hope again, she’s facing me now, a finger curling and uncurling in a teasing, come-hither gesture. God, she’s fucking beautiful.
I shake my head, feeling slightly nervous and shy, mostly because I don’t have alcohol to blame if I make a fool out of myself while dancing. When an elbow nudges my arm, I snap my head towards it and see Jason grinning at me.
“What the hell are you waiting for? Go dance with your girl.” He winks, and I let out an anxious laugh.
Inhaling a deep breath, I hand him my non-alcoholic beer, the third one for tonight, and stride over to Hope, who’s smile is so big, I’m pretty sure you can see it from the moon.
We stand facing each other, keeping a respectable distance—that is until, she wraps her arms around my shoulders, her chest nearly touching mine. My hands instinctively settle on her hips, and the spark that shoots through my nerves from her warmth almost buckles my knees.
“Are you having fun?” I ask, raising my voice just enough for her to hear over the music.
“So much fun!” she slurs, eyes shining with genuine happiness. “Thank you for inviting me, Kaden. I fucking love your friends.”
A loud chuckle escapes me. This girl is totally wasted. “I’m certain they love you too.”
She lets out an adorable giggle, and I can’t help but want to squeeze her cheeks—and maybe steal a quick kiss on those soft, plump lips. But I won’t, not when she’s like this.
We start our dance, me slowly bopping to the beat while Hope’s movements grow sultrier, and more seductive.
She spins around, pressing her back against my chest, and as she sways and grinds against me, pressure instantly builds low in my stomach.
I’m sweating beneath my shirt, and it’s not from the dancing.
Hope dips low, then rises again, reaching behind her and looping my arms around her stomach. We move in perfect sync, my face buried in the crook of her neck, while her hand lifts above her before threading into the back of my hair.
To anyone watching, we probably look like any other couple on the dance floor, completely absorbed in each other.
She turns her head slightly, our mouths so close I can almost taste the alcohol on her lips. And how easy would it be to capture them with mine. But then she turns away, pausing to press her fingers to her temples.
“Are you okay?” I ask, as I gently turn her around to face me.
She groans and keeps massaging her temples, her eyes closing, like she could fall asleep at any moment.
“I think I drank too much. Everything is spinning so fast.”
“I think it’s time I get you home, yeah?”
Her eyes fly open, and she gives a little whine. “Aww, do we have to? I’m having so much fun.”
“I know you are, beautiful, but you’re also very drunk. You’re going to wake up tomorrow hating life and wishing for death.”
“You’re probably right,” she lets out a tired sigh. “Okay, let’s go.”
I lace my fingers with hers, and then, we go around saying our goodbyes, thanking Chris and Gemma once more for having us. We all promise to get together again soon, and that makes Hope genuinely smile.
As we leave the apartment, I circle my arm around her, holding her close so she leans against me. Judging by the way she’s swaying and almost tripping over her feet, there’s no way she’d make it back to the car on her own without risking a fall.
On the way out of the building, she mumbles something about never drinking again, but wants to party every second weekend. She even curses Adrian a few times for being the reason why she never had any real fun.
I have to bite back a laugh because she’s talking absolute gibberish.
When we finally exit the building, I feel her body grow heavy against me, as if she’s struggling to stay on her feet.
Without hesitation, I lift her into my arms and carry her the rest of the way to the car, and she lets me, her arm going around my neck for support.
Once she’s securely settled in the passenger seat, she immediately rests her head against the window, eyes closing as I turn the ignition on.
“Alright, party girl, let’s get you home and tucked into bed.”
She releases another groan, and I can tell she’s minutes away from passing out.
Nearly twenty minutes later, the truck eases into her driveway, the street swallowed by darkness and peaceful quiet. When I glance at Hope, she’s fast asleep, soft little snores slipping from her lips, and I have to suppress a smile.
“Hope, sweetheart,” I whisper softy, brushing strands of hair from her face. “You’re home now.”
She stirs in her seat, her eyes cracking open for a brief second before sliding shut again. “Let me sleep,” she groans, displeased at being woken too soon.
“As much as I’d love to camp out here in the car with you, you need some proper sleep… and a few glasses of water.”
“Why are you yelling?” she grumbles, and I have to smother a chuckle. She’s so adorably out of it, and I’m taking great pleasure just watching her.
“I’m not yelling, Hope. Your senses are just a little heightened from all that alcohol swirling in your system. Now, come on, Jack Sparrow, it’s time to hit the hay.”
I climb out and round the truck to the passenger side, careful not to startle her as I open the door.
She sits up slowly, struggling with the seatbelt, pulling at the strap without unbuckling it.
I reach over and take care of it for her, unable to ignore how close she is, or the soft warmth of her breath along my neck.
“Do you need me to carry you, or can you walk?”
“I can walk,” she slurs.
I pick up her purse and tuck it under my arm, using both hands to carefully ease her out of the car. She leans into me straight away, and once the door is closed and locked, we make our slow way to her front door.
“Are your keys in here?” I ask once we’re on her porch, holding the purse up between us.
She nods, swaying just a little while I rummage through her bag for her keys and unlock the door.
I guide her straight to the kitchen, fill a glass from the tap, and lift it to her mouth. She drinks it without protest, gulping it down until there’s not a single drop left.
“Good girl. Now, do you need to use the bathroom?”
She nods.
Calmly and softly, I ask her to show me the way to her bedroom. She points to the door at the end of the hallway, and leads us straight there and into the ensuite.
“I’ll be right outside this door, okay?” I reassure her.
Shutting the bathroom door quietly behind me, I remain in place until I hear the tap running, leaving her to do her business while I straighten the bed, making sure it’s ready for her to slide under the covers.
A few minutes later, Hope emerges from the bathroom, still in her dress, but without her shoes, her face clean and make-up free. I stand at the edge of the bed and lift the covers for her. She slips in effortlessly, curling onto her side facing me, one arm sliding under her pillow.
Sitting on the edge, I tuck the covers snugly around her, brushing the loose strands back from her face. Her eyes grow heavy, fluttering shut and opening again more slowly each time, until they stay closed.
When I go to stand, her delicate hand on my thigh pauses my movement.
“Thank you, Kaden,” she murmurs softly, eyes still closed. “It’s been so long since I’ve had this much fun… and it was all because of you. Always you,” she exhales a long, contented sigh.
I place my hand over hers, my thumb tracing gentle circles over her knuckles. “You deserve to enjoy yourself from time to time. You should never feel guilty for that.”
“But do I deserve you?” she whispers. “You’ve become such a good friend, someone I trust. And I know I shouldn’t feel this way about you, but I really like you, Kaden. More than I thought I would. More than I should. And now I don’t know what to do.”
It’s true what they say about drunk mouths speaking sober minds. Even in her inebriated, half-asleep state, I know her words are genuine—things that have been weighing on her for quite some time, only now finding their voice through the haze of alcohol.
My eyes close, the dull ache in my chest tightening at her admission. I wanted to tell her tonight. I wanted to finally confess everything, but not when she’s like this. Not when this conversation would likely be forgotten by morning.
“Oh, angel… I think you have it all backwards,” I whisper softly to her. “It’s me who should be asking you that. Because once you find out the truth, I’m not sure if you’ll still feel the same way about me.”
The quiet rhythm of her snoring is all the confirmation I need that she’s fallen asleep. I lift her hand, pressing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, then set it carefully back on the mattress.
I rise to my feet, and quickly fetch a bottle of water and some Advil from the kitchen, before returning to her room.
Setting the items on the bedside table, I lean down and kiss her softly on the temple.
“Sweet dreams, beautiful.”
I linger a few minutes longer, just watching her sleep, peaceful and angelic. Then, I quietly slip out, careful not to wake her as I close the bedroom door behind me.
On the way to the car, I rehearse the words over and over—what I will say and how I will say it.
Because one way or another, the next time we meet, I won’t be walking away until she finally knows the truth about me.