#Junkie (GearShark #1)(4)

Leaving his palm where it was, he leaned away and set down the can. I dropped my head in my hands and shuddered.

God, I felt like f*cking rotten ass. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you so drunk?” Drew demanded.

“Vodka,” I muttered darkly.

He made a sound like that wasn’t an answer. “What the hell possessed you to drink so much tonight?”

“I just wanted a break,” I muttered.

“A break from what?”

“Huh?”

Drew’s hand clenched into a fist against my back. “Trent. What the f*ck?”

“Don’t be mad,” I heard myself say and fell back on the bed.

“I’m not mad.”

“You sound mad.”

“Good f*cking thing I showed up tonight.” He half growled and moved away from the bed.

I heard the rustling of clothes, but I didn’t look. My head hurt. “I don’t like when you drive without me.”

Drew appeared over me, staring down from the side of the mattress. Something about his presence caused me to open my eyes.

Our stares locked.

I felt some things I didn’t know how to back away from. Alcohol made it hard to lie.

“Is that what this is about? You’re pissed ‘cause I went driving without you?” he asked, low.

He wasn’t wearing a shirt anymore, and in place of the jeans was a pair of loose basketball shorts. His dark-blond hair was messy, and his mouth was drawn into a grim line.

The way his eyes looked just then… it was like he could see.

I rolled onto my side away from him. “Sometimes a guy just wants to get drunk.”

And sometimes a guy wants to forget.

My stomach rolled and my back jerked with the force of my heave. Drew muttered a curse and dove across the bed, just barely getting the can in front of me as I starting puking again.

He was partially lying across me, and even half out of my mind and sick as a dog, I still noticed the way his weight felt on me. The way I was pressed so fully into the mattress by his size. It helped make me feel less shaky in the moment.

When I finally stopped throwing up long enough to breathe, Drew sank onto the floor near my head.

“Fuck, man,” I said between more heaving. “I’m sorry. You should have left me at home.”

“You are home.”

It was spoken so quietly I thought maybe it had been a thought in my own mind and not a sentence off his lips.

I glanced up, my bloodshot, watery eyes trying so hard to focus on his.

He stared back without a word. Just stared.

Had he spoken, or was it a thought?

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Think you’re done?”

“I hope so,” I rasped. My throat was raw and burned. The inside of my mouth tasted like road kill, and my body ached.

He nodded and quickly tied the bag closed in the can and quickly replaced it with a fresh one.

“Here,” he said and shoved the can into my arms before disappearing for a few minutes.

When he reappeared, he had a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin. I groaned, and he set the stuff aside. “It’s for later.”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to keep anything down again, but I kept that thought to myself.

“You can’t sleep like that. Roll onto your side.” He motioned with his hand for me to move.

I started to roll, but he caught the hem of my shirt, stopping me. “Sit up.”

I started to oblige but then fell back. He made a sound and slid an arm beneath me and lifted. “You’re too heavy for this shit,” he grumped.

Cool air brushed over my heated skin when he pulled the shirt over my head.

“You taking advantage of me?” I cracked.

“You smell like puke,” he rebutted. Then in a more sarcastic tone, he said, “Besides, you couldn’t get it up right now even if you wanted to.”

“For you I could.”

Instant sobriety.

That’s exactly what those four words were. At least for long, still minutes.

The second I said them, everything in the room stopped. Everything stood still. I’m pretty sure my heart didn’t beat. Drew didn’t breathe… There was nothing.

Nothing but the words.

The meaning.

The implication.

The truth behind them.

Oh f*ck.

I was about to make it worse, use my drunk brain to try and backpedal, try and make up some excuse.

He saved me.

Just as abruptly as everything stopped, it started up again. He started up again.

His fingers felt cool compared to my flushed skin as they wrapped around my chin. My face was tilted up, and I squeezed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t have to see if he saw the truth behind my confession.

“You have it on your face,” he spoke. I felt the softness of my shirt brush over my chin as he used it to clean off the mess I’d made of myself.

I intensely regretted getting drunk tonight. For so, so many reasons.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, embarrassed.

“I know.”

I opened my eyes.

For just a millisecond, we connected.

For just a millisecond, I thought I felt something I hadn’t before.

Then he pulled away.