Page 140 of Bide

“She's out.” Propping her chin on my chest, tired, slightly dazed eyes stare up at me. “Will you take me home, please?”

It's another one of the things I know I definitely shouldn't do, yet I find myself nodding anyway.

* * *

She falls asleep in the back of the Uber.

Like passed out, dead to the world kind of asleep.

Before, I wouldn't have minded. I'd probably laugh a little, maybe snap a picture to send to the girls or use as blackmail. It would be fine if her head wasn't in my lap, her knees pulled up to her chest as she curls up almost completely on top of me, one arm wrapped around my thigh as she hugs it to her. Even asleep, I'm half convinced she's trying to kill me.

When we pull up outside her place, I squeeze her shoulder gently, whispering her name. She barely even stirs. Squeezing her a little harder, I give her a shake. “Lu, you gotta wake up now.”

A quiet groan leaves her throat, vibrating up my thigh. “Don't wanna.”

She protests further when I open the car door, sliding out from underneath her and exiting the car. Offering the driver an apologetic smile, I half-drag, half-carry Luna out after me. “Can you walk?”

She takes one step and confirms the answer is a resounding 'hell no.'

A squealed laugh escapes her as I scoop her up with a sigh, cradling her in my arms and starting towards her second-floor apartment. She wastes no time getting comfortable, apparently completely unphased by being carried up two flights of stairs by her ex-boyfriend. Awkwardly opening the front door when the keys I wrangled out of her purse, I side-shuffle my way in, careful not to bang her head against the doorframe.

It's nice, this new place of hers. Bigger than the old one, despite the fact there's only two of them living here. That makes sense though, I guess, considering Pen's dad is some hotshot lawyer-turned-professor. The guy probably bought this whole damn complex for his precious daughter.

I open the first door I see and luck must be on my side because it’s definitely Luna’s bedroom. It’s almost identical to her old one, the same fluffy rug on the floor, the same soft, pink blanket tossed haphazardly across her bed, the same pictures and posters decorating her wall. It smells the same too. Vanilla.

But that might just be the girl curled up against my chest.

Gently, I set her limp form down on the bed. With a sigh, she curls up into a ball. She doesn't react, or even open her eyes, as I pull her feet onto my lap and ease her shoes off, or when I leave the room to go rummage around in the kitchen for some painkillers and a bottle of water.

I, however, definitely fucking react when I return to her room and find a half-naked, wobbly girl struggling out of her clothes. There's a split second when all I see is tan skin and lacy underwear before my mind catches up with my eyes and I avert my gaze to a safer area, like her face. She's managed to wriggle out of her skirt, kicked it halfway across the room too, but she's gotten herself caught up in her t-shirt. It would be a laughable sight, if not for the half-naked thing.

Or the ex-girlfriend thing.

Or the her being drunk off her ass thing.

“Jesus, Lu.” I sigh as I walk towards her. Tapping her shoulder so she stops wriggling, I guide her free from the tangled mess she's inexplicably created. When I pull the shirt over her head, I'm greeted by the sight of dishevelled hair and flushed cheeks. A lazy smile pulls at her lips as a giggle escapes her, accompanied by a slurred 'whoops' that draws a matching smile out of me.

I don't know if it's the smile or the laugh or just fucking her, but a moment of weakness hits me. I find myself reaching up to smooth down her hair, to tuck some of the wild strands behind her ears so I can see her face properly. And then, on their own accord, my hands move to cup her face, just for a second, just long enough that the warmth of her cheeks soaks my hands. Long enough that she leans into me, letting out a tired, content hum as her eyes drift shut.

She's seeing someone.

I drop my hands like she's burned me.

Abruptly taking a step back, I clear my throat, looking anywhere but at her. In an effort to busy my wandering hands, I turn on my heel and head for her closet, on a mission to find her pajamas. She used to keep them in the bottom drawer so I check there first, and I'm right. An array of neatly folded pajamas stare back at me.

My pajamas.

The soft t-shirts and sweats I wore whenever I stayed over. A couple of my hoodies, including a Rays one that I thought I lost at practice. Even a few pairs of boxers that I'm positive are mine.

I don't let myself think about it too much, don't let my brain read into it. I just grab a t-shirt and slam the drawer shut. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Here-” I start to say, mouth snapping shut when I turn around and find Luna with her back to me. A groan attempts to rip from my throat as her hands curl behind her, reaching for her bra strap, fingers struggling to undo the clasp.

Her little whine of annoyance has me shifting in place, as does the pouty look she shoots me over her shoulder. “Help?”

Yup. Definitely trying to kill me.

Draping her pajamas over my shoulder, I make my way towards her on legs almost as wobbly as hers. My hands shake as I reach up to undo the clasp, a lump forming in my throat when the straps fall down her shoulders. As quickly and as painlessly as possible, I help her change, very much trying to ignore the soft thud of her bra hitting the floor and my knuckles brushing against smooth skin.

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