Chapter 15 – Willa
FIFTEEN
WILLA
”Bye, guys!” I shout, waving at the girls as they all get into their respective cars.
“We need to do this again soon!” Leo helps me into his car after we exit the Mill.
It’s early summer, but compared to the warm bar we just left, it’s chilly outside.
Still, I barely feel it, my happy emotions running high.
Even more, I think Adam was right: I just needed a life in order to get inspired. In fact, if I weren’t so drunk, I could probably write an entire album tonight. That’s just how good I feel.
I can’t say it would be a good album, but it would be an album all the same.
But I can’t, because I am, in fact, very, very drunk.
Once the car is moving and Leo makes it clear he’s not in the mood for chitchat, my mind moves happily over the night. Despite the bumpy beginning, it was the best night I can remember, and I feel like I even finally got past Leo’s grumpy facade.
A successful night, if you ask me.
“That’s my turn,” I say a bit later, watching the entrance for Three Kings Farm pass by us without Lepo even slowing.
“I’m not taking you home,” he says simply. I sit up a bit, my head swimming as I look at him, but his eyes are directed out the window, face neutral.
“What?”
“Willa, you’re hammered. I can’t in good conscience take you to your place to sleep alone.”
“Because you’re supposed to keep an eye on me and keep me out of trouble?” I ask, sounding petulant even to my own ears. He sighs and shakes his head.
“No, because despite you being a pain in my ass, I care about you.”
“You do?” I ask, and his brow furrows. For a moment, his eyes leave the road to look at me, and that confusion is written across his face as well.
“Of course, Will,” he says gently, and the words settle in my belly, sending a warmth through me that rivals the shots I took tonight. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you and I could have stopped it, Willa.”
I stare at his profile, the moon casting shadows across it, and for a moment, I think about asking more questions, anything to better understand him, but I don’t know where to start, so instead, I just rest my head against the cool glass, my eyes drifting shut as I do.
“I had fun tonight,” I admit into the quiet cab of the car as we turn and make our way up Leo’s bumpy, winding driveway.
“I can tell. I think the whole bar could tell.”
I giggle, my heavy head shifting so I can look at him as he parks the car with effortless ease, backing into a spot on the gravel drive by doing that hot guy thing of putting his arm on the back of my seat. Finally, he turns off the car and opens the door. “Stay there,” he says.
Even though I’ve made it my mission to do more of whatever Leo tells me not to do, I decide listening to him just this once might be for the best. He moves around the car, then opens my door and offers me a hand, which I take.
He tugs me up, and when I stumble, he chuckles and wraps an arm around my waist before I fall.
Then he pulls me into his side, and together, we make our way to the front door.
Without meaning to, I melt into him, liking the feel of his strong body supporting me, aiding me, seemingly without judgment.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drunk.”
I lift a shoulder with the question as he unlocks the door, a basic, dark-stained wood with old-looking brass hardware, and pushes it open. Once inside, he steps away from me, and instantly, I feel cold.
An awkward silence fills the room for a moment; then he lifts a brow assessingly before explaining. “Can’t very well fix reputations and clean up the bad boys if you’re just as bad.”
“I was always cool with it, child star and whatnot, so I don’t need your pity. I’ve always had everything, never wanted anything at all.” I bite my lip, but in my drunken state, I can’t stop the words from tumbling out. “But I guess lately, I’m realizing I missed out on a lot of things.”
“Like?”
“Like…dancing in a small-town bar. And girls’ nights.
And, and…” I smile at him. “Toilet papering houses. I haven’t done any of that stuff before.
It’s always work and protecting the image and…
” My head swims, and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath.
“I had a s’more martini tonight. Wren said they were tasty, and she was so right.
Have you ever had a s’more?” He looks at me, and the very edges of his lips tip up, entertained.
“Yeah, Will, I’ve had a s’mores.”
“I haven’t. I haven’t done anything fun.
” I think about all of the things that the girls yapped about while we got ready, all of the fun Hallie had planned for Emma over summer break, and the strange, nostalgic yearning I felt for things I’ve never had.
“I’ve never had a s’more, or gone to summer camp, or had a water balloon fight.
I’ve never gone peach picking or shared lipstick with my friends or gone to a town fair or, or, or…
anything fun.” Feeling silly, I look down, picking at my nails.
“I know. I know. It’s stupid and selfish, but I like being… normal here.”
“I don’t think that’s silly, Willa. I think it’s normal to want to be normal.
” We stand in the entryway of his place for long moments, staring at one another until, eventually, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck and breaks eye contact.
“Anyway. Let’s get you something to sleep in.
” Then he walks off towards a room. I stand in his near-empty living room for a moment, feeling off-kilter in a way I know has nothing to do with how drunk I am, before following him.
When I enter another bare room, I look around, but there’s not much to see.
The only furniture is a gorgeous antique dresser he’s standing at, back to me, and a bed with dark green bedding.
The walls are painted a pretty cream, and without meaning to, I start to picture ways to add pops of color, ways to fit the vision of Leo I have in my mind.
All masculine lines, a classic style. Olive greens and mahogany to complement the wood of the dresser.
With his back to me, I allow myself the small luxury of taking him in, his broad shoulders shifting as he digs through the drawers before turning to me.
“This should work,” he says, tossing me a shirt.
“What’s this for?”
“Don’t think your shorts and shirt would be very comfy to sleep in,” he says, a small smile on his lips as he crosses his arms on his chest.
“You know. you’re much more handsome when you’re not glaring at me,” I murmur, and he lets out a quick bark of a laugh, seemingly against his will.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
I smile at him as I throw his shirt over my clothes, then work to slowly remove my shirt underneath.
Even drunk, I manage to take off both the bra and the top I borrowed from Hallie, tossing them in a small pile on the refinished hardwood floors with my bag.
Then I undo the button of my shorts underneath the oversized tee and slide them down with a relieved sigh.
Although the shorts are much more comfortable than the smoothing undergarments I usually wear, there are a few things in this world that feel better than sliding off stiff clothing at the end of the day.
They pool at my feet, then get stuck on my sandals, so I bend to take them off, undoing the buckles, the effort requiring my full attention.
“Willa—” he starts, then fades off, but I barely notice as I undo one sandal and then the other.
Finally, I stand and turn back to face him, seeing a strange look on his face before I slide into his bed and kick the covers down with my feet.
The blankets and sheets smell like Dior Sauvage, the expensive cologne I know he wears because I send him a bottle every year for his birthday.
It was a stupid whim, something I bought on an impulse after smelling it in a store once and thinking it would be perfect for him.
I was absolutely right.
“But you’re still hot when you glare, so don’t stop it all the time,” I say, finishing my thought from earlier as I lie back in the bed, then shiver as my skin slides against the cold sheets.
I look down my body, spot the comforter at my feet, and I kick it a few times, trying to hook it and pull it up my body.
As I do, my shirt rides up my side, revealing the red lace of my thong high up on one hip.
If I weren’t so drunk, I’d probably be embarrassed, or maybe understand the look that was still plastered on Leo’s face, but I am, so I don’t.
Instead, I say something that, again, if I were less drunk, I’d have the common sense to be embarrassed by.
But the liquor is making me feel so good, so loose, and care so little, that I don’t care at all.
Hell, the world has seen more of me in paparazzi photos on the beach, and the truth is, Leo Sinclaire could see me fully naked and not care in the least.
“Can you tuck me in?”
He stares at me, and I hold my breath before finally, his gruff voice fills the room.
“Yeah. Lay back,” he whispers. I do as he asks, settling in as I try to ignore the stupid way my heart beats faster as he steps closer to me, then grips the ends of the blankets and slowly tugs them up, covering my body.
But he doesn’t just drop them when he reaches my shoulders. Instead, gently, nearly reverently, he tucks in the downy comforter around me, settling it beneath my chin.
“Thank you,” I whisper, holding his eyes with mine and hoping against all hope that he understands. “For taking care of me.”
He stares at me for long moments, a soft smile on his lips, before he steps back.
“You look good in my bed, Will,” he murmurs, taking me in. A flash of something comes over his face, as if he isn’t sure why he said that, but he doesn’t take it back.
“You could stay with me, you know,” I murmur, and he smirks, then shakes his head.
“No, I don’t think that would be a good idea.”