26. Kirin
Kirin
Her roommates offered to stay with Rose to ensure she got home safe, but Kirin wouldn’t leave her.
Not even when everyone they knew left. Nearly an hour after saying goodbye to their friends, they were finally heading out and, from what he could tell, Rose was unconscious over his shoulder.
She’d thrown up twice between the front bushes of the Senior House and the end of the driveway, forcing him to adjust how he was carrying her.
Oddly enough, the only position that didn’t make her throw up was her being slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She’d hummed to herself for a minute, the tail end of a song he didn’t recognize, before she drifted into a deep slumber.
She was snoring by the time he made it to his truck.
That was the second sign that something was wrong.
She hadn’t let him drive her anywhere in the month they’d known one another.
If Preston attacked her when he was in the driver’s seat, it made sense.
But for her to just roll with him, offering to drive to the party while she put away the shot glass he’d caught her cleaning.
Something was up, and he was going to find out what it was.
After she settled in the passenger seat, he buckled her in, carefully positioning her head away from the door to avoid catching her hair when he closed it.
Jogging around the front of the truck, he climbed into the driver’s seat and drove her home.
It was less than three blocks, but with the chill that had settled over Kismet in late September, he was glad he had insisted on bringing his truck.
It took some crafty handling, but he got her through the back door, and the stairs were easy enough. Now that she was unconscious, there was a limited risk of her throwing up. Ainsley opened the door for him at the top when he kicked it twice.
“Ah, so she finally passed out?” Ainsley asked, her hair wild and pointing in a dozen directions as she yawned, her eyes little more than slits.
“I convinced her to leave when she started getting nauseous.” He grimaced, and Ainsley frowned.
“Do I want to know?” she asked while locking the door behind them.
She followed him down the hall, and he kept his voice low. “Threw up twice before we got to the car.”
“At least your truck is clean,” she noted before shuffling back to her room.
“Flower,” Kirin whispered as he carried Rose into her room, but she didn’t so much as flinch, her dead weight and snoring going uninterrupted as he laid her on the bed. “I’m going to get you dressed for bed and try to take your makeup off.”
He got a snore in response. “Good enough.”
Careful to prevent her from falling off the edge of the bed, Kirin pulled her clothes off, then replaced them with the oversized, worn Fleetwood Mac concert shirt she slept in and a pair of shorts.
He laid her back so he could pull some fuzzy socks over her feet.
He wasn’t sure where to start with her hair, so he opted to coil it atop her head like he’d seen her do and then slid her under the covers.
She was relaxed, her pouty mouth open as she breathed, and he left to grab the makeup wipes she used when she didn’t want to do her complete night routine.
When her face was clean enough to call it good, he hunted for her phone in the pile of clothes on the edge of her desk and came up empty.
If he needed to, he’d go find it in his truck, where it probably got wedged under the seat.
Kirin turned off Rose’s light, leaving on the salt lamp in the corner so that if she got up to puke again, she wouldn’t trip over anything.
He tucked a few stray pieces of hair behind her ears, cradling the side of her face and rubbing a thumb over her cheek.
There was something eating at her, something she didn’t want to face or talk about.
If a month was enough time to fall for someone, then it was enough time to learn when someone was avoiding things. Especially when they were diving headfirst into alcohol as a coping mechanism.
Before he left to get himself ready for bed and let the worry consume him again, he whispered in her ear, “You good, Flower?”
Rose, even in her sleep, moved toward him. She slurred out, “I’m fine.” She took a breath, her brows furrowing as if even in semi-consciousness she was concerned for him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m worried about you,” he answered honestly, and she shook her head slow, though it was more of a flopping motion that he stopped by easing her head back against the pillow. Her eyes were glued closed by sleep and alcohol even as he watched her try to open them.
“I’ll be fine,” she slurred out again, like it was a lie she’d told herself enough she believed it.
He let out a short, pained laugh. “Liar.”
Instead of responding, she hummed and rolled over, cuddling her pillow.
Kirin gave her a few minutes, watching her body relax into the bed and waiting for the light snoring to return before he kissed her temple.
He was in the hall when he found her phone, the locked screen displaying a list of notifications over a photo of her kissing him from last week.
Turning on his heel, phone in hand, he was about to plug it in and turn her music on when he caught sight of two notifications from just after midnight.
DO NOT ANSWER
Five days until I see your face, Angel.
Are you gonna draw my number on your cheek again?
Kirin’s brows popped up, his hand hovering over the screen as he looked from the notification to the girl asleep in bed.
“DO NOT ANSWER” was obviously Goodwin. His hand hovered, wishing he had her password to see what else the asshole sent her.
They hadn’t talked about it since she had told him about the messages a week and a half ago.
He didn’t realize they were still coming.
With a sigh, he pressed play on the queued-up music instead, pressing the volume four times to get it to the level she liked before placing it beside her bed, plugged in and charging.
If she didn’t want to talk about it yet, he could understand.
But snooping wouldn’t win him any awards, and as hard as it was to walk away from her phone and any answers it might provide him, he managed it.
He tried to keep his steps light as the weight of that notification settled on his mind until he was standing in the kitchen to grab himself some water.
He was rinsing his cup when Harper came around the corner, her headphones on one ear and off the other, with her phone screen lighting her face.
“Harper,” he whispered, and she jolted, her head whipping up, eyes wide enough she might lose them if she leaned over.
“Shit!” She pressed a hand to her chest, taking a slow breath.
“Sorry, just didn’t want you to scream if I moved,” he explained, and she nodded.
“I appreciate it. Ainsley would have come out with a baseball bat.” She smirked, but then looked past him. “You’re back late.”
“We’ve been back for a little while. Rose is unconscious, but I got her ready for bed as best I could.” He shrugged, hesitating in the hallway as Harper pulled a cup down to get some water. “I’m gonna get ready for bed, but I have to leave early. Could you make sure she hydrates in the morning?”
“Of course.” She raised a brow at him, her head tilting. “You okay?”
Kirin rubbed a hand over his mouth. He couldn’t say anything to her roommates.
It would be another breach of trust. Rose had to talk about this with the people she was comfortable with, even if it killed him.
She needed more people aware of the hell she was in the middle of.
She needed support, even if it was just someone else watching her back.
Letting out a long breath, he felt his shoulders sag, but he nodded. “Yeah, just tired.”
She nodded her understanding. “Get some rest. I’ll check on her in the morning.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a smile, though it probably wasn’t very reassuring.
He didn’t make it halfway down the hallway before Harper halted him. “You sure you’re okay, Kirin?”
“Yeah, just take care of her in the morning for me, please?” He didn’t look back; worry likely showed on his face, but Harper agreed, and a second later she shuffled to the fridge. He closed the bathroom door behind him and braced his hands on the countertop.
Only then did he let himself consider what Preston might have been sending Rose for the last month.
Every thought brought more questions than answers, but as he grabbed the toothbrush Rose had given him during his first sleepover, he tried like hell to push it to the back of his mind and then bury it.
He had a busy week, so he needed his rest. He could deal with Preston Goodwin and whatever trouble he was causing with Rose tomorrow, or, at worst, on Saturday, after another win.
A perk of being a senior was that most of his class schedule required low-level focus.
Definitely beneficial when it was followed by film day.
Unfortunately, it did little to distract him from a night of watching Rose get drunker than she’d probably ever been.
It was, however, a blessing he wasn’t also fighting a hangover.
He’d barely been able to sleep. He saw those messages from “DO NOT ANSWER” printed across the insides of his eyelids.
Given the vibration of his phone in his pocket, somehow, Rose had dragged herself out of bed way earlier than he expected.
Rose
Thanks for getting me home safe and for asking Harper to get me some water and meds this morning.
Kirin
How are you feeling?
An hour later, he was walking across campus when she responded. He hoped she fell back asleep. She was going to need it.
Rose
My sister asked me if you were coming home with me for Christmas.
The walls are still wavy.
Blinking is very loud.
Clearly, we have some things to discuss.
Kirin
We can talk about anything you want, but I would certainly love to know why you were hell-bent on getting that drunk.