Page 60 of Your Pucking Mom

“Ledger.” I crawled over to him and shook him. “Are you okay?”

“Huh?” An almost inaudible word slipped from his lips. “What?”

“Do you know where you are?” I got closer to his face to make sure he wasn’t hurt.

“What time is it?” he grumbled.

“Three in the morning.” My voice was soft as I rubbed circles on his back, trying to rouse him to a more awakened state.

“Holy shit.”

“You smell like shit.”

“Booze and piss,” he huffed through a sleepy tone as he sat up.

“Ew…Wait. I thought you didn’t drink before a game?”

“I don’t,” he said while rubbing his eyes. “I fucking needed an escape or some shit and then drank too much.”

“Oh,” I whispered. Was that escape needed from me? “Let’s get you up and into bed, then.”

As I helped him up, although there wasn’t much help on my end, I was just there for stability, he groaned while holding his head. “Fuck. It hurts.”

I couldn’t help the giggle that escaped my throat. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you drink too much. Let me get you into your room. Where is it?”

I looked around the hallway as if that would prompt a clue to pop up. I turned back toward him, feeling the way the hair on his forearm touched mine so gently.

“Wait…” I scowled. “Are you smirking? What’s funny?”

“I’ll show you.” His voice was still gruff, but I loved how raspy and deep it was. He turned, and my hand dropped to my side, then he stopped and reached behind him.

It was a small, simple gesture, and I linked my fingers with his without another thought. He was showing me where his room was, and I was helping him into bed. I needed to get to Austin anyway.

“Come here. You’ll love this.” I expected to walk a few feet to the end of the hall, but we stopped after taking two steps.

“What? Are you still drunk? Why’re we stopping?” He grabbed the key card out of his back pocket.

“This”—he gestured with his head to the door next to mine—“is my room.”

I found it amusing, though ironic, that whoever was in charge of our room assignments decided to play a cruel joke on us by putting our rooms next door, just after we agreed we were better off as friends. This was not fucking happening to me.

“No,” I barked. “You didn’t tell me?”

He threw his hands up in the air as if to say it wasn’t his fault. “You ran inside before I could point it out earlier.”

I shook my head as he pushed the door to his room open. “Take a shower.”

“I’m fucking tired,” he grumbled, and I grabbed his forearm.

“You stink, and you’ll feel better when you wake up if you take one.”

He gave me a tight-lipped smile. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Truthfully, I expected more of a fight from him.

“Yeah. Okay.” He gave me a small smile before he walked into the bathroom and ripped off his shirt.

“What’re you—” I was too stunned as he undid his belt with one hand.

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