Page 280 of Coach
Except my need to pee.
That definitely did not vanish.
For some reason, kissing made it worse. Maybe it was the angle. Maybe I was bent against my prostate or lung or bladder . . . that made me snort-laugh into his mouth. Who peed out their lung?
Mateo jerked back. “My kissing you is funny?”
“No . . . No! I love your kisses,” I said betweensnorts. “I just have to pee. I think my lungs are full.”
The utter bafflement on his face sent me spiraling again. My vison blurred as I gripped my sides. I was pretty sure Mateo was still staring, probably with his perky lips parted in disbelief, but I couldn’t think. All I could do was laugh, snort, and pray to the god of body parts that my lungs—or bladder, if you prefer—didn’t choose that moment to empty. With all I’d drunk that night, I could’ve flooded his poor car.
“All right, Alan Ritchson, let’s get you home,” Mateo said in his best disapproving mom voice, though there was a heavy undertone of amusement beneath his words.
“Home?” I said, unable to wrap my mind around the simplest of words.
“Yes,” Mateo said, cranking the car to life. “You can sleep at my place. There’s no way you’re in any shape to drive.”
I sat upright. “Ooh. Yay. We haven’t slept at your place yet. Is your bed fluffy?”
Mateo chuckled. “Very.”
“And do you have cookies?”
Mateo cocked his head. “Cookies?”
“I’m hungry,” I said. “I’m always hungry. Do you think it’s because I’m so big?”
Mateo’s head fell back to the headrest as helaughed again, then blew out the biggest sigh. I swear even his sigh had an accent. It was so damn cute.
“I’ll get you cookies,” he said, surrendering to my drunken state. “Buckle up, okay?”
I did as instructed as Mateo pulled the car out of the lot.
The next thing I remembered was Mateo leaning over me. He stood on the passenger’s side of the car, my door open, gripping my shoulder and shaking, maybe half pulling, like he wanted to drag me out. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t working. I was too heavy, and he had no leverage. It did, however, wake me up.
“Did I fall asleep?” I said, my head clearing a bit. I no longer felt the urge to laugh between breaths, but my bladder—definitely my bladder—was screaming with all its powerful might. “I really have to pee. Like bad. Don’t make me do a pee-pee dance.”
“I’d love to see that.” Mateo huffed a laugh. “For now, I’ll settle for you standing and walking inside. Come on. I’ll help you.”
I lurched out the door and nearly took us both down with me. Mateo was stronger than he looked, but I was, well, bigger than most. He managed to keep us upright, and we staggered toward the door. He’d already unlocked everything and had the door open. As quickly as possible, I stumbled, Mateopropping up my shoulder, as we wove between the coffee table and sideboard toward the back of his house.
“Oh, look. I made that,” I said, pointing at the sideboard as we passed.
Mateo’s amusement vibrated through my chest. “Yes, and you did a beautiful job.”
“I know. I’m great with wood.”
Mateo grunted again.
“Do you want my wood? You seemed to like it last night. Both times.”
He patted my chest with his off-hand as we entered his bedroom. “Let’s focus on peeing. We can worry about your wood after I find you some cookies.”
“Oh, cookies! Did I tell you I like cookies? You’re so smart.”
He shoved me into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
“How am I supposed to pee without you?” I called through the door.
