Page 52 of Bottles & Blades
“Well, it doesn’t feel like I’m doingmuch,” I say, knowing I sound like an idiot, but unable to keep the grumble out of my voice.
She yawns, and I pull my head out of my ass.
“Bedtime, buttercup.”
“I want to argue with you more,” she murmurs, “but I need all cylinders to do that, so I’ll save it for tomorrow.”
I only relax when she doesn’t fight me as I lead her to her dresser, pulling open the drawers until I find her pajamas.
I grab out a set, press them into her hands.
“Get lots of rest, baby,” I order—yes, more orders. “I want you lucid and ready to bicker with me at lunch tomorrow.”
Her lips lift, but she just nods, and I head for the door.
“Jean-Mi?”
A throb in my chest as I turn around.
“You didn’t give me the code to the door.”
“It’s 10-12.”
Her head tilts to the side. “Why 10-12?”
I smile at her. “It’s my birthday.”
Lips parting in surprise, cheeks turning pink, eyes going soft. “Oh,” she murmurs.
“Night, buttercup.” I reach for the doorknob.
“Jean-Mi?”
My smile grows and I rotate around again. “Yeah, baby?”
“Do you think…” There’s a long pause as she seems to war with herself. Then one side of her seems to win out because her shoulders straighten and her chin lifts and she asks,
“Will you stay?”
Seventeen
Tiff
I’m hot.
Scorching hot, sweat is dripping down between my breasts, my spine is on firehot.
Am I sick? Have a fever or something?
Only as my brain comes slowly online, the sleep fading away, I remember.
Where I am.
WhoI’m with.
My eyes fly open and I’m just barely awake enough to remember to move slowly.
Jean-Michel could still be sleeping.
