While I Was Away(24)

And that's when he'd started drinking.

He allowed his younger brothers to drag him to his room and drop him into bed, but he really wasn't quite as drunk as everyone thought. He was depressed, and the alcohol was giving him the perfect excuse to wallow in it for once.

And wallow he did, draping an arm across his face while he fought off the urge to cry. He wouldn't cry. He would not. If he was going to shed tears, then Adele damn well better be around so she could feel bad for causing them.

Sounds fair.

Ocean wasn't sure how much time had passed when he heard his bedroom door creak open. He didn't move, hoping whoever it was would assume he was asleep. Then he heard the door swing partially shut, after which light footsteps made their way towards him.

“Go away,” he groaned.

“Pity party, huh. I'm surprised. I'd expect something like this from River, maybe even August, but not you, Detective Reins.”

Ocean lifted his arm away from his face, staring in shock at Zoey Blanke. Light from the hallway spilled through the cracked open door, and it was just enough to illuminate her profile. She wasn't facing him, but was instead examining some sort of picture on the wall.

“Not right now, Blanke. I'm not in a good mood,” he warned her. She snorted and took a sip from the drink she was holding

“Just wait till tomorrow – you put away almost a fifth of schnapps, your hangover is going to be spectacular.”

“Did you need something?” he snapped. She shrugged, then stunned him by sitting on the edge of his bed.

“I'm heading out, I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh. Thank you. Goodbye.”

“You're not the only one who misses her.”

“Excuse me?”

The sudden one-eighty in the conversation almost gave him whiplash. Good ol' Zoey, keepin' him on his toes. He wanted to tell her to fuck off, but the angry glint in her eye made him hold his tongue.

“This tough-yet-hurt routine is getting real fucking old, Ocean,” she continued as she put her cup down. “Yeah, it sucks that Adele was in an accident. It sucks even more that she's in a coma. Do you know how many times a day I go to text her, then have to remind myself that she can't respond?”

Ocean stared at Zoey for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Then his anger cleared some of the alcohol out of his brain and he pulled himself upright.

“I'm sorry, are you comparing your relationship with Adele – which is only, what, five years old, maybe? – to mine, which is only ... oh, say ... since her birth. She's my sister, which trumps your 'best friend status', so fuck off,” he growled.

“Oh, what, did I offend you, precious?” she sneered.

“You think you can just fucking walk around and talk to people however you want!” he snapped. “Well, sugar, I'm not one of these pushover guys you're probably used to – keep giving me shit, sweetheart, and I'll give it right back to you.”

“You sound mad,” she commented, one of her eyebrows condescendingly arched.

“Yeah, I'm fucking mad!”

“Really mad?”

“Really goddamn mad!”

“Good.”

That took the wind out of his sails a little. He opened his mouth to snap back, then froze for a second, struggling to shift gears.

“Um ... what?”

“I said 'good',” Zoey clarified. “That means you're not feeling sorry for yourself anymore.”

Well.

Ocean glared at her for a second longer, then finally broke down and chuckled.

“Okay, good one, thanks,” he sighed.

“I'm also available for motivational speeches,” she offered, and he laughed even harder.

“You came in here just to bust my balls and take my mind off things?” he asked, scratching his fingers through his hair. She shrugged and reached for her cup.

“The only cute guy in the room had left to pout. It was either follow him, or leave. I took a chance.”

Ocean laughed in earnest then. Cute? How ridiculous. Sure, he knew he was a decent looking guy, but cute? He hadn't been called cute since he was ten, and had certainly never imagined Zoey Blanke thought of him that way.

His laughter died away while he watched her chug the rest of her drink. Did she really think that? Did he care? And what did he think of her? Sure, she was cute, too, he supposed. He let his gaze skate over her form, taking in her tone body and petite build. Her stylish outfit and trendy vibe. Her pert breasts and fantastic legs. How old was Zoey? Twenty-five? Twenty-six? Jesus, he was at least ten years older than her.

I'm drunk and she's way more than cute and this is a bad place and these are bad thoughts and I'm definitely too drunk for this.

Which was why he was probably more shocked than Zoey when he leaned forward and kissed her a second later.

More shocking still, though, was her kissing him back. She dropped her cup to the floor and pressed herself against him without any hesitation.

Ocean had to admit, it was strange at first. He'd known Zoey for a long time and had never once thought of her in a sexual manner. Yet now her hands were all over his body, her breasts were pressing against his chest, and her tongue was doing a very thorough examination of the back of his throat.

When was the last time you kissed someone like this?