Page 25 of Studious
When I pull up in my driveway, I realize I’m in about the same situation I was in back at the office. I don’t have a way of getting Alden out of the car other than picking him up. I shut off the engine and walk around to the side to get him.
He’s passed out with a bit of drool coming out of the side of his mouth, but he’s breathing normally. His hair flops in his eyes. He’s totally adorable.
I reach over to unbuckle his seat belt, and he mumbles something. It sounds like, “Hottie.” I chuckle, then gather him up again and carry him into the house.
I love my house. It’s on a quiet, jacaranda-shaded street not too far from work, and it’s perfect for me. What it isn’t, is big. I don’t need it to be, because I don’t share it with anyone, nor do I want to. I don’t have a guest room, because I don’t ever have people stay over. I just have an office for the rare times I work from home. If I put Alden on the couch, he’s likely to roll off and brain himself. So, my bed it is.
He’s the first guy to sleep there other than me. This bedroom is my sanctuary, and I’m eager to come home to it every night—alone.
This is me being decent to a coworker, nothing more. As Mamacita rubs her face against my legs, I lay Alden carefully on my bedspread and tug off his shoes.
He’s wearing striped socks, and for some reason that detail makes my heart thump. He’s so quiet, and yet he has this little rebellion going on underneath.
Now what do I do? Do I take his pants off? He shouldn’t sleep in that belt, at least. Or the tie. It could be uncomfortable or even dangerous. It’s cute that he dresses up, though. Most people in the office do. We don’t really have casual Fridays, because so many of us go to court, but Alden could be trying to impress us as well.
With cautious fingers, I unbuckle his belt and slide it through the loops on his trousers. I’ve never done this to an unconscious man before. I feel like I need to be extra careful with him.
I untie his tie and coil it, along with the belt, on the chair by the bed, then arrange his shoes under it. Fishing in his pockets, I find his cell and wallet and keys. His cell needs to be charged, so I plug it in, since we have the same kind.
As I pick it up, I notice a text from “Mom” asking where he is.
I think for a minute. Then I unlock the phone with his thumb and text back.
Alden: I stayed late at work, and now I’m spending the night at a coworker’s house. His name is Danny. Here’s his phone number and address.
I text my contact info.
Alden: Everything okay? I’ll see you in the morning.
A response comes back immediately.
Mom: I’m so happy for you! I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. Xoxo Mom
I let out a sigh. I don’t want anyone who loves him worrying about him. Also, should I take more of his clothes off?
“What do you think I should do about his clothes, Mamacita?” I whisper.
My cat meows, which likely means she’s thinking what I’m thinking. Or she’s hungry.
“You’re right. He can’t sleep in a suit. That’s all there is to it.” I’ll help him into something of mine.
Holding my breath, I unbutton and unzip his pants, then chuckle at the rather hot CK underwear he has on underneath.
Who is this guy?
I’m walking a thin line, though, privacy- and consent-wise, so rather than spending any more time staring at Alden’s skivvies, I pull some sweats out of my dresser and drag them up his legs. Then I tackle the upper half of his body, which is tricky since he’s dead weight. I unbutton his shirt and slide it and his jacket off at the same time.
His bare chest is as adorable as the rest of him. Svelte, with brown-pink nipples. Again, I make myself move on without ogling.
I wrestle one of my T-shirts onto him, and he curls up on my pillow, locks of wavy hair falling into his eyes.
Why don’t you have anyone better than me to take care of you?
Poor guy. Didn’t they teach him how to party in… whatever kind of school you attend to become a bookkeeper?
I don’t know when he’ll wake up or how he’ll be feeling when he does, so I go and get a bottle of water, Advil, and an empty wastebasket. Just in case. I drape his clothes over the chair so they can air out a bit before he has to put them on again.
Without thinking too hard about what I’m doing, I brush his hair from his face, kiss his forehead, and turn off the light. I grab a couple of blankets out of my closet and drop my suit and dress shirt in the dry cleaning bag.
