Chapter 8 #2
She’s unbothered, handing him his turn. “You know, I’m not even sure if I am.
I haven’t been drinking enough to know. I think the worst I’ve had was feeling tipsy after some wine coolers.
This has never been my drug of choice, by the way.
I know some people prefer to go one hundred percent clean regardless, and that’s valid, but I only have a normal amount of fondness for a good drink. ”
“I wasn’t worried about that.” He dips his head, taking a swallow.
“Okay, okay, tell me one of your drunk stories.”
“Dunno that I have any.”
“Really?” she asks, skeptically. “No wild parties in Aspen or the south of France?”
“Oh, those,” he replies dramatically. “I dunno if you’re ready for those.”
“Far too scandalous for my delicate sensibilities?”
“Exactly. Actually, I do have one.”
Her eyes brighten and she leans slightly forward, eager to hear more.
“It was the first time I ever took a drink. There was this kid at school, I was seventeen by the way, and he and I would hang out sometimes. Not always. But, sometimes. Well, he shows up with a case of beer one day, and I always thought I’d never touch it because I saw what it did to my dad on those nights he was mourning my mother.
He leaned on that bottle after she passed more than he should have.
But I was in a mood that day and I thought fuck it. ”
He pauses, swirling the bottle thoughtfully.
“So we get pretty lit and as I’m walking home later, thinking I’m sober enough, I hear my brother outta nowhere yelling like he’s in a horror movie. I turn around and here comes Oliver running down the street, one hand holding his pants up, and what do I do?”
She shakes her head, a growing smile on her face.
“I run, too. I figure whatever’s chasing him is chasing me now, I was too wasted to think straight. So he flies by me, and I just start running with him, the two of us kicking up dust to who knows where. We end up on some farm at the end of the road, slip down a hill into the manure pile.”
“No!” she gasps
“Yes. There we are, covered in horse shit. He’s lost his pants down to his ankles, I’m drunk as fuck, but we don’t say a damn thing until at least ten minutes pass and we’re sure whoever was chasing us is gone.”
“I think I have an idea about who that was,” she says, wryly.
“And you’d probably be right.”
“Someone’s father or boyfriend?”
Theo nods, and they both erupt into a fit of laughter. “You win the prize.”
“What’s the prize?”
Her voice is slow and sweet like molasses, the small bottle a fourth gone between them. If he thought some liquid courage would make his words work faster, he’d be wrong. He stalls, tripping on his own tongue, but she doesn’t seem to care. Just takes another sip and eyes him sideways.
“I like your smile,” she says, barely a whisper. “And you smell good.”
“We both do. I could swear there are apples in your shampoo,” he blurts out, like that’s a logical thing to say.
She squints. “No apples, just flowers. You saw the bottle.”
“Yeah, I saw it, but I’m smelling apples right now, so I dunno what to tell you.”
“Come on, smell me again. You’ll see.”
She’s dead serious, even tilts her head and waves him over, offering the soft expanse of her neck like a willing donor to a vampire.
Makes perfect sense to him that he should sniff her again. It doesn’t even occur to him how different this could go until he’s already leaned closer, pushing his face into the space behind her ear, the tip of his nose brushing her hair as he inhales.
Yep. Apples, he thinks to himself, ready to claim victory, but then she’s breathing deeper and faster, her chest heaving at the edge of his view, and her whole body shivering when he slowly pulls back, his exhale tickling her skin.
“Apples,” he says, dumbly, staring right into those blue eyes only inches away. “Do you have any drunk stories you want to share? Gotta have at least one.”
He hasn’t moved, and she hasn’t either. He’s running his mouth from nerves, and her reply threatens to set him on fire.
“No, and I’m not drunk now, but I feel it just enough, so this one’s ranking at the top.”
He’s about to have a fucking heart attack or a seizure. Maybe an aneurysm.
“Theo?”
“Hmm?”
Her hand finds the side of his face, thumb stroking the scruff on his cheek. She remains silent, but there’s encouragement in her eyes that says it’s okay to kiss her.
It’s okay to want it.
For the first time, he can see how much she does, too. That’s what spurs him on to close the space between them, hovering there just before any contact is made.
He hasn’t kissed a woman in years. Then she brushes the hair off his forehead and runs her fingers across his scalp in the most gentle stroke. She’s so careful, like he’s something precious she has to handle with care, and that’s got his emotions going haywire.
He’s starved for that type of affection, but accepting it remains difficult.
He wants to trust her, and maybe the majority of his brain actually does, right before muscle memory overrides his desire, and he pulls back an inch, denying himself everything he wishes he could have.
Everything being offered to him for the taking.
What he only partially processes is the fact that she pulled back at the same damn time.
“I’m scared,” she admits, softly. Her brows knit together as white teeth snag on that lower lip he wants to suck on.
Yeah. He knows that feeling. “Me too.”
“You might change your mind about me.”
“Might change your mind about me.”
She shakes her head, her disappointment in herself plainly clear. “I’m not trying to be a tease. Really, I’m not. I’m all over the place from one moment to the next. That’s not fair to you.”
It doesn’t take much to figure out she’s heard that thrown her way from one of the ex’s at some point or another. “I wasn’t thinking that at all.”
“What were you thinking?”
“That I like being here with you.”
She only frowns deeper. “Even after I nearly got you killed by a bear?”
“I think that’s the bear’s fault.”
“I wanted to go over the mountain instead of around, and then I got mesmerized by the cub, and now here you are with a sore shoulder.”
He snorts out a laugh, even though he shouldn’t. She’s looking for shit to claim the blame for, and while he ain’t sure where that’s coming from, he’s not about to let it happen. “Last I checked, I wanted to go over, too. We’re blaming the bear. End of story. The bear. Alright?”
Reluctantly, she relents. “Okay. We blame the bear. Technically, it’s not her fault either, though, because she was protecting her cub.”
“Oh my god,” he groans with a shake of his head. “Blame my brother for getting married in fucking Alaska, then?”
“Fair enough.”
“Good. Should we keep going?” He holds up the bottle with a shake and gets a yawn in return.
“Think I’m already over the limit. Can I…stay here with you? Just to sleep.”
He nods his agreement rather than sound far too excited should he speak it.
They got within a few millimeters of a first kiss, and while it should feel like a failure not to make contact, somehow he thinks they’re closer now than they’ve ever been.
* * *
They begin the morning the way the previous afternoon ended.
Their sleep schedules are fucked, but none of that matters because Nora is carefully curling up next to him, and yeah, it’s a little awkward at first, but then she’s warm and heavy against his side and it’s better than anything has a right to be.
They don’t have as many layers on anymore. He’s keenly aware of every curve and swell of her body. Wonders if it’s okay to rub her back and gives it one testing stroke that barely goes a few inches past her shoulders.
No protest. In fact, she makes a pleased sound at the back of her throat, a slight hum of encouragement, so he does it again…waits a few seconds…and again, repeating that pattern until he’s sure she’s enjoying it and those uneven strokes turn smooth.
The corners of his lips turn up, betraying how happy he is about his current situation.
He’s been afraid to entertain the idea before, but now, in the aftermath of an almost kiss and a night spent tangled together, he wonders if one day she might be his, just like he wishes he could be hers.