CHAPTER TEN
BLAIR
T he night is a blur of the bonfire and shit-talking Shay as I stumble up the steps toward the front door.
The alcohol zings in my veins, making the world spin around me.
I try to steady myself, but the ground seems to shift under my feet, and I trip, nearly crashing face-first into the concrete below me.
Before I hit the ground, a strong hand grabs my arm and pulls me back. I turn my head, trying to blink through the haze, and find Shay’s annoyed face glaring down at me.
“Careful,” he mutters, his grip tight as he keeps me upright.
“Get off me,” I slur, trying to shake him off. “I don’t need your help.”
His expression darkens, and his jaw tightens. “Believe me, I’m not doing this for you,” he snaps. “I’m doing this so our parents don’t see you like this.”
I open my mouth to argue, to tell him to just back the fuck off, but he clamps a hand over my mouth, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Just shut up, Blair. You’re drunk and going to cause a scene. Just let me get you inside.”
I roll my eyes and push his hand off my mouth. “Fine,” I mutter in defeat. “Just… just get me to my room.”
Licking my lips, I can taste the saltiness from his palm, and it makes me want to puke.
I sway on my feet again as we step inside, and Shay’s grip on my arm tightens.
His fingertips dig into me painfully, but the fight in me is gone.
All I can do is focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not blowing chunks all over the really, really shiny floor.
He leads me up the steps, snaking his arm around my waist and letting me use his body as support.
I want to hate it—the way heat dances across my skin being so close to him and the urge to turn into him further—but the truth is, I don’t.
Or maybe I’m just way too drunk to realize I hate him and why. I don’t even know anymore.
Why do I hate him again? I mean, sure, he’s a douche, but he’s helping me right now, and that’s kind of sweet. Even if he looks like he would rather be anywhere but here, it’s still sweet. Kind of. Maybe.
I groan as we reach the landing and let my head loll down. This is why I shouldn’t drink around boys who are pretty with terrible attitudes. The “ I can fix him ” is strong in me, and I know it’s only the booze talking. Why else would I care? I’ve stood my ground this long, so I shouldn’t bend now.
When we reach my room, I push the door open with my shoulder and stumble inside.
It’s a mess—the result of a rushed unpacking session earlier after the movers came.
Clothes are strewn across the floor, a few boxes are half-opened, and my bed is a tangled mess of blankets.
At least it doesn’t feel as bare and cold as it did before, though.
Shay nudges the door closed with his foot, then helps me over to the bed. “Sit,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I flop down on the edge of the mattress. “I can take care of myself, you know,” I mumble, though I can barely keep my eyes open.
“Yeah, I’m seeing that,” Shay replies dryly as he bends in front of me to untie my shoes.
The thin silver chain around his neck glistens in the light, and I so badly want to reach out and tug it, but I don’t.
“The sooner you’re in bed, the sooner I can get out of here.”
I try to protest again, but my body feels like it’s made of lead, and I can barely move my arms. Shay pulls my shoes off and sets them aside, then looks around the room, searching for something. He spots a pair of pajamas spilling from one of the dresser drawers and stands to retrieve them.
Tossing the shirt to me, he barks out another command. “Put this on.”
Lifting my arms to try and catch the shirt is difficult, so it simply falls into a ball in my lap. I pick it up and fumble with the fabric, trying to find the top.
“For God’s sake, Blair,” he mutters, exasperated.
Stepping back to me, he leans down again and hooks his fingers into the bottom of the shirt I’m wearing. As soon as he tugs it up, I move my arms and clench them to my chest.
“Stop. No one has ever seen me naked, and that isn’t changing tonight.”
“Don’t be stupid. I’m not doing this to check you out. I’m doing this so you can crawl into bed halfway comfortable.”
I shake my head as he tries to move my hands. “Shay, stop. I don’t want you to see me.”
“Blair, just let me?—”
“I’m a virgin!” The words tumble out before I can stop them, and once they’re out, I’m not even sure why I said them. “I—I’ve never done anything, okay? So I don’t want you, of all people, to be the first to see me naked. Just, just let me do it.”
His hands immediately float away from me, and something flashes in his eyes. Almost like he feels bad. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”
“Wow. Shay Cornell apologizing to me?” I laugh. “Really rich, considering.”
He shakes his head and steps back. “Just put those on.” He turns, giving me his back and some sort of privacy.
I don’t reply. Instead, I watch and make sure he doesn’t turn around as it takes me longer than I’d like to admit to strip out of my normal clothes and slide into the pajamas. “Done.”
He turns back around and nods slowly. Stepping back to where I sit, he throws the jumbled blanket to one side, then points to the top of the bed. “Lay down.”
The room feels like it’s spinning, but I lean back, then scoot myself up the bed.
He grabs the blanket he threw to the side and covers me up.
It’s weird, considering all the shit he’s talked, but I almost see a softer side to him.
Almost. His eyes are still hooded, and his mouth is a hard line, but his movements aren’t rough anymore. They’re slow and fluid.
Once the blanket is over my lower half, he looks at my hands. “Rings. Give them to me.”
I almost forgot I was even wearing any jewelry. Slowly, I start sliding my chunky silver rings off my fingers and placing them in his waiting hand. “Thanks.”
“Blair Hemingway thanking me?” He laughs. “Really rich, considering.” He throws my words back at me.
I just roll my eyes, then let them flutter closed halfway. I see his form move from me back to my dresser, where he sets my rings. It almost looks like he grabs something else, but I’m too tired to care. Turning on my side, I pull the blanket to my chin and close my eyes fully.
I can hear my door open again, but before it closes, I give him one last statement. “You’d be a lot hotter if you weren’t so mean, you know? I get being upset about our parents, but my dad is dead too. You’re not the only one hurting.”
There is a long pause, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, the sound of the door clicking closed is the last thing I hear.
I’m alone again, but for once, I don’t think I mind. I let out a long, shaky breath, my body sinking deeper into the mattress. As I start to drift off, I can still feel the ghost of Shay’s hands on my skin, steadying me in a way I didn’t know I needed.