Ava
I’m sloppy drunk. That’s the only possible explanation for why I’m slow-dancing with Eric and clinging to him like he’s the last lifeboat on the Titanic.
If there’s any upside to being sloppy drunk, I’m too busy laughing and dancing and partying to think about anything other than the massive headache I’m going to have tomorrow.
I should’ve taken up drinking years ago.
Eric tightens his hold on me, and I sink into his warm embrace.
He shed his tuxedo jacket hours ago, and I’ve discovered he’s one of those guys who smells good even when he’s sweaty from dancing.
I like the way he smells and the way his muscles move under the fine linen of his shirt and the way he seems to realize that if he lets go of me, I’ll land in a puddle on the floor. So, he doesn’t let go.
I’m not sure exactly when I become aware of the fact that he’s hard and his hands are moving on my back with a certain sort of familiarity that doesn’t put me off the way it would have before I’d spent a delightful day with him.
His presence comforts me. I felt safe letting go today because I knew he’d be there to catch me if I stumbled, which is crazy since I met him only two days ago.
But I already know I can trust him, and letting go feels so good.
Tomorrow will be a cold dose of reality, but tonight, anything feels possible.
“Eric…”
“Hmm?”
“I think I’d better call it a night.”
“Not yet.”
“There’s a good chance I might pass out.”
Without losing his grip on me, he straightens and takes charge. Although how he can still stand after drinking as much as he did is a mystery that doesn’t need solving right now. “All righty, then. Let’s get you out of here.”
I have no idea how he does it, but Eric manages to half carry me out of the ballroom and into an elevator with minimum fuss. Rob and Camille departed more than an hour ago, so no goodbyes were needed, and no one paid much attention to us leaving together.
At least I hope they didn’t…
He props me up in the back corner of the elevator and unleashes a potent smile. “Good?”
“So far, so good.” My words are slurring. This is worse than I thought. Please, God, don’t let me puke.
Eric watches over me until the elevator dings on the thirtieth floor.
My brain suddenly comes alive. “My purse!”
“Got it,” he says, producing it from under his arm.
“You’re a lifesaver.”
Winking, he says, “Always happy to assist a damsel in distress.” He scoops me into his arms, again with hardly any fuss, and carries me down the long hallway.
He’s charming, handsome, fun. If I were capable of caring about another man, he’d have my interest. But I’m not capable. I’m barely able to walk, which is why he’s carrying me.
“Can you get out your key?”
“Uh-huh.” I’m all thumbs as I open the purse and dig out the key from the inside pocket where I stashed it earlier.
Outside my door, he puts me down but doesn’t let go. He takes the key from me, opens the door and picks me up again, carrying me inside and placing me on the bed.
The minute I sink into the pillows, the room starts spinning wildly. I sit up quickly—too quickly—and a wave of nausea overtakes me. God, why did I drink so much?
“Are you going to be sick?”
“I really hope not.”
“Sometimes it’s for the best.”
“I never drink.”
“I figured as much. Didn’t take much to make you tipsy.”
I wonder if he’s teasing me, but when I glance at him, I see only care and concern. Then he reaches down to help me out of my three-inch heels. He gets up and retrieves a T-shirt I tossed on the bed earlier. “Want to change? I’ll help you, and I promise not to look.”
Since the dress is tight, I’d love to take it off even if I’m not sure he’ll keep his promise not to look.
“Yes, please.” I turn my back to him, contend with another sickening room spin and wait for him to unzip me.
I wrestle my way into the T-shirt before I take his hand to stand and shimmy out of the dress.
“Gotta pee.” I stagger into the bathroom and manage to take care of business and brush my teeth without falling.
I hear Eric talking in the other room, but I can’t make out what he’s saying.
I leave the bathroom and return to the bed. As I perch on the edge of the mattress, I wish the room would quit spinning.
Eric comes and sits next to me.
“Were you talking to someone?”
“I was ordering up a cure for what ails you. It’ll be here momentarily.”
“A cure sounds really good.”
He nudges my shoulder. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll fix you right up.”
Because it’s there and because I need it, I rest my head on his shoulder, comforted by his presence, his easygoing disposition and his willingness to help me. It’s been such a long, lonely time since I could lean on anyone, and as I lean on him, I realize how much I’ve missed having that.
Then he makes it even better by putting his arm around me.
I luxuriate in his warmth, his strength and the appealing scent of him. I doze off and come to with a start when a doorbell rings. My hotel room has a doorbell. I find that unreasonably funny.
“If I let go, will you fall over?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, here goes…” He releases me in increments, making sure I’m steady before he gets up to answer the door.
I hear him exchanging words with the delivery person as the mouthwatering scent of pizza fills the air.
Eric returns carrying a small pizza box, a brown bag and two bottles of water, all of which he puts on the desk.
He comes over to the bed, arranges the pillows behind me so I’m sitting upright and helps me get settled.
Then he brings me a slice of pizza on a paper plate and opens one of the bottles of water for me.
“May I present the time-tested pizza cure?”
I take a bite of the best-tasting cheese pizza I’ve ever had in my life. I’m not sure if it’s because the pizza is that good or it’s just that I’m starving, but whatever the reason, I devour that first piece and ask for another.
“Feel better yet?” he asks.
“So much better.”
“The pizza cure works every time. The bread acts like a sponge and soaks up the booze.”
“Where did you learn of this cure?”
“I was a frat boy in college,” he says with a wink and the charming grin that’s been unleashed on me repeatedly during our day together. “That’s where I learned all the most important life lessons.”
I snort out an inelegant laugh. “I’m sure the lessons were memorable.”
“Indeed, they were.” From the brown paper bag, he produces a bottle of pain meds and shakes two of them into my hand. “Take them and drink all the water.”
I follow his directions and settle into the pillows, watching him as he eats the rest of the pizza and guzzles the other bottle of water.
“Thank you.” I’m grateful for his cure and his company.
“My pleasure.” He wipes his face with the napkin and comes over to stretch out on the bed next to me.
What would’ve been unimaginable only this morning is now comforting and intriguing…
The sleeves of his tuxedo shirt were rolled up hours ago to reveal strong forearms with golden-blond hair. “You look much better.”
“I feel much better. Sorry to be high maintenance.”
His laughter transforms his face from handsome to devastating. “You call this high maintenance? Sweetheart, you wouldn’t know how to be HM if you tried.”
I’m rattled by the compliment as much as the term of endearment. “Still… You didn’t want to spend your brother’s wedding night tending to a sloppy drunk.”
He reaches across the mattress for my hand. “My brother’s wedding day was one of the best days I’ve had in a long, long time.”
I squeeze his hand. “Me, too.” It was the best day I’ve had in five years, and that’s all because of him.
“I’m going to want to see you again, Ava. Would that be okay?”
Would it? Am I ready to start something new with someone other than John? How can I start something new when I still have no idea what became of the man I love? Am I willing to risk another heartbreak, or would I be better off alone?
“Wow,” he says on a long sigh. “I didn’t expect that to be a complicated question.”
“It wasn’t. It isn’t… I just…”
“Is there someone else?”
Is there? I don’t know, and I experience a flashpoint of rage directed at John for doing this to me. How could he leave me in this state of purgatory? How could he have let me fall so deeply in love with him, knowing it was possible he’d have to leave me this way? “No, there’s no one else.”
“So…” That smile is irresistible, as I’m sure he knows.
“I’d like to see you again.” I have no idea what I want from him, but today was fun. I need more fun in my life, and Eric Tilden could be just what I need to jumpstart my new life in New York.
I don’t recall falling asleep with Eric, but he’s still there when I wake the next morning, feeling surprisingly well rested and refreshed thanks to his miracle cure. He moved closer to me in his sleep, and his arm is stretched across my waist, which means I can’t move without disturbing him.
He slept in his clothes on top of the covers, a perfect gentleman when he could’ve been a typical guy and taken advantage of my drunken state.
That he didn’t even try earns him big points.
I take a closer look at his handsome face, noticing the fine laugh lines around his eyes, the golden whiskers, the strong jawline and the lips that move adorably, as if he’s having a conversation with someone as he sleeps.
A frat boy of all things. It’s all I can do not to laugh.
Most of the frat boys I met in college weren’t people I wanted to spend time with.
My friends dated a few here and there, and they’d lived up to their reputations.
I try not to stereotype people, but most of the frat boys I’ve met in my life wouldn’t have fed a drunk girl pizza to make her feel better.
Eric has great hair, the kind that doesn’t require product to look like he just stepped out of a photo shoot. I wonder if it’s soft or coarse, and I reach out to touch it.