Page 52 of Unwritten Rules
“No,” he bites out, shoving his hands in the pockets of the black leather jacket hugging his frame. “I’ll walk you home.”
Warmth spreads across my cheeks. “Oh, you don’t have to?—”
“It wasn’t a question, Tate.” Sinnett turns to Raya and nods. “Get Khai home safely, Ray. He keeps the keys to the apartment in his right pocket.”
Raya drags her bottom lip between her teeth, her brows creasing as if wanting to say something. But she doesn’t. Instead, she nods and steps toward the passenger door. “Got it. Make sure you get this one home safely, okay? And behave yourself.”
Choosing to ignore her last comment, I wave at her. “Night, Ray. Thanks for inviting me out tonight.”
“It was fun.” She smiles and points toward a passed out Khai in the backseat. “Some of us had more fun than others, though.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I direct the question to Sinnett.
“He’ll be fine,” he responds with a shrug. “Not the first time he’s gotten shit-faced and it certainly won’t be the last.”
“Well, either way, it was still fun.”If you take out almost getting roofied, I want to say, but swallow the words instead. I’d prefer to forget about the showdown between Sinnett and those guys, and what could’ve happened had he not been there. “Get home safely, Ray. Make sure you text me.”
Raya swings open the door, the Uber driver patiently waiting in the front seat. “Same goes for you, okay?”
I smile. “Of course.”
Sinnett and I stand in silence, shoulders barely brushing as we watch the SUV pull away from the curb, tail lights disappearing in the distance. A chill washes over me, and I’m helpless to fight the shudder. I need to get home quickly before my teeth start chattering.
“Here.” Sinnett steps to the side and shrugs off his leather jacket.
My eyes round as I lock my attention on the rippling muscles of his biceps.Good lord. “Sinnett, no. I’m okay, really.”
He doesn’t say a word as he steps into my space and drapes the large jacket over my shoulders, the material swallowing my frame. His woodsy cologne clings to the material, and I fight the urge to inhale deeply.
“Sinnett, I’m okay, I promise.”
Sinnett steps back and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. A grey-washed Guns N Roses T-shirt clings to every hard ridge and curve of his torso, not leaving much to the imagination. Not that I have to think too hard when I’ve seen what’s hidden beneath the thin material.
“Tate, I can clearly see you’re cold, and with a twenty-minute walk ahead of us, I’d prefer you stay warm.”
“What about you?” I squeeze out, throat tight as I relish in the warmth spreading across my arms.
Sinnett shrugs. “I’ll be fine. The walk will keep me warm.”
I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and nod. Silence settles over us as we walk side by side in the direction of my house. Groups of drunk partygoers litter the streets, their high-pitched laughter and slurred speech echoing down the street after us. It isn’t until we’re a block away does the nightlife ofNorth Sydney fade into the background, leaving space for my elevated heart rate to pound at the base of my throat.
Our footsteps set my nerves on edge further, and I rack my brain for something to say. But when I come up empty, I heave a sigh and shove my hands into the pockets of the leather jacket Sinnett all but forced me to take—which I’m grateful for now because it’s getting colder by the second—and focus my attention on the footpath.
“Are you okay?”
Sinnett’s deep voice catches me off guard, and I jump like an alley cat. Heart beating rapidly against my ribcage, I snap my head to the left, gaze sweeping over his side profile—all sharp jaw and smooth skin. Piercing blue eyes meet mine, and I struggle to force air into my lungs.
“W-what?”
“I asked if you’re okay,” he repeats, shifting his focus to the footpath shrouded by bursts of light from the streetlamps. “I mean, after everything that happened tonight…”
“Sinnett, please,” I rasp out, throat tight as the memories from earlier tonight slam back into me. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
“We do,” he grits, muscles tensing beneath the thin material of the band T-shirt. “We absolutely do, Tate. That fucker tried to hurt you, and if I hadn’t seen him slip that pill into your drink—” He shoves a hand through his messy hair, tugging at the roots. “Tonight could’ve ended badly.”
“Yeah,” I breathe, swallowing hard. I shift my focus to the empty suburban street. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”
Sinnett doesn’t owe me a thing just because we had a one-night stand and now work together. If he wanted to, he could’ve given me the cold shoulder on my first day, and we would’ve never spoken again unless absolutely necessary. But he didn’t, despite my initial thought that he would. And now we’ve foundourselves in this strange position where we have shared an intimate moment and don’t know what to do from here.
