Chapter 11

eleven

A KNIGHT OUT

T ate has her location.

The question is, how do I get her location without tipping Tate off?

Music blares in the football house around me but I barely hear it at all over the pounding of my own heart. God fucking damn.

Emery Moore is trying to give me a heart attack and she looks damn good while she does. At this point, it might be my preferred way to leave this world.

I look over my shoulder to make sure no one is paying attention to me before I unlock my phone again and study the photo she sent a little closer. One glance was all it took for me to panic lock my phone in fear of anyone else seeing it. Now that I'm alone I take the time to really look at the photo.

Words can’t describe how good she looks. And I know this photo is just a tease. In contrast to the photo I sent her earlier with Karma, this one was snapped quickly with barely a thought, but shit does it show off enough.

Her makeup makes her look younger, her hair looks exactly how I would imagine it would look after I run my hands through it, gripping it. Nope, can’t go there. And her outfit. I can barely see any of it and yet without a doubt I know it would surely bring me to my knees.

I take back every time I taunted and teased Baylor and called him a simp. I’ll take that crown from him any day and I can’t even be embarrassed about it.

How could I when the girl I’m infatuated with looks like this?

Emery: Wish me luck tonight

It’s not luck that she needs. Maybe a trench coat instead.

Her top shows off the swells of her cleavage in a way that makes me want to ask for another photo. I should text her back, but my brain is barely processing how cute this girl is. Her personality shines through the photo in a way that’s even more enticing than how hot she is.

Xander: Be safe tonight

I scoff at myself. Way to sound like her dad again. There’s no way she’s going to send another photo with that response.

Xander: You look good. Have fun

Better?

Maybe not .

Fuck me it’s embarrassing to be all twisted up over a girl and have no one to even talk to it about.

“Hey, what’s up, man?” Beau knocks his shoulder against mine and I’m quick to lock my phone and slip it back into my pocket before he has a chance to see who I’m talking to. I’ve been careful not to make it too obvious, not that there's anything wrong with talking to Emery. Torryn and Isla text her all the time. But the less questions the better for me.

He hands me a cup of stale beer, but I don’t really know how much I feel like drinking tonight. None of the guys are drinking, or planning on staying for very long with their game tomorrow.

“I don’t want this shit,” I say, dropping it off on the table as we begin walking out of the living room.

Beau shrugs. “Some girl gave it to me.” Why did we even come here tonight?

He can read the question on my face and grins. “Don’t be grumpy. We’ll be back home before you know it and you can spend all night texting your mystery girl.”

Heat rushes to my face and my steps falter as I trip over nothing in my shock. “The hell are you talking about?” I attempt to deny.

He slaps me on the back. “Whoever had you staring at your phone like it had the answers to the meaning of life on it,” he teases. “And I know I saw blonde hair on your Facetime when I jumped into your bed today. Don’t even try to say it was your mom, because you don’t talk to her.”

Getting rattled will only add fuel to the fire, but staying nonchalant isn’t easy either. I feel very fucking chalant right about now. Very chalant, but somehow I manage a snort of amusement. “Well it wasn’t my sister that doesn’t exist either. ”

He nods along like that makes perfect sense. “Which leaves mystery girl,” he says with excitement.

I pat his shoulder and shake my head. “Sorry, Romeo. It was a friend from Everleigh checking in. Nothing as exciting as a mystery girl.”

He studies me, eyes catching on my pocket where my phone is, but I don’t flinch. “Really?” he asks with suspicion.

I huff a laugh. “Yes, really.” His face falls and I shake my head at him. “Why do I feel like I should apologize now?”

“Because you should. That’s far more boring than what I thought it was going to be.”

Oh thank god. He believed me. “Sorry to disappoint,” I respond, keeping my tone neutral, if slightly amused. The last thing I need is everyone in the house speculating who my so-called mystery girl could be. It would not be a far jump to land on exactly who it is.

We head through the house, stopping to talk to a couple people along the way about shit I couldn’t care less about. The whole time my phone is burning a hole in my pocket. I’m dying to check it, to see if Emery responded. Or if she’s too busy now with her friends to even spare me a thought. God, I’m pathetic.

We finally find Tate standing with Zac, Wilder, and Colby and Zac looks pissed about something.

“You have to do something,” he hisses at Tate, pointing to something on his phone.

Tate rubs his temples and I already have a feeling I know what they’re talking about, the question is how? “You were doing worse,” Tate admonishes Zac. “We promised to give her space. She’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

“Not dressed like a hooker,” Zac argues.

Whoa, my hands curl into fists at my side as we step into the circle and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to punch Zac in the mouth for talking about Emery like that .

Before Tate has a chance to dress him down, it’s Colby that smacks him upside the head. “You take that back right now, Zachary Moore. How dare you talk about your sister like that.”

Wilder stares at her with wide eyes and I have to admit, I’m just as surprised. I’ve barely heard two words out of Colby, let alone her yelling at either one of the two idiots she calls her best friends. Zac, on the other hand, looks properly chastised. The anger turns into guilt as he drops his eyes to the floor.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says.

“Of course you didn’t,” Colby snaps. “Because Emery looks adorable and if any girl was wearing that same outfit at this party, you would be all over her. So stop your bullshit just because it’s your sister and don’t say things you don’t mean.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, fully put in his place by this girl and I decide right then and there that I like her. She’s always been around, but I’ve never felt like I had seen her real personality until this moment.

“Not any girl,” Zac argues half-heartedly, but she glares at him as if that wasn’t the point. He sighs. “She’s my baby sister, Col,” he whines. “Aren’t I allowed to be a little protective?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes and Wilder is grinning behind her. “When you can do it without being a misogynistic asshole, I’ll consider it.”

I can’t help but smirk. She’s leading them around by the nose.

I bump my shoulder against Tate’s as Zac still bickers with Colby. “Everything good?” I ask him.

He sighs, running his hand over his blonde hair, his eyes darting back down to his phone. He lifts it up and shows me a picture Emery posted to her story on social media. Unlike the one she sent me, you can see her full outfit in this one. The short skirt that shows off her long, toned legs and the shirt that displays more than it covers .

Damn. If I thought she looked good before, I have no words for how she looks now.

Ballsy of her to post when she knew it would send her brothers into meltdown mode.

“That explains the tantrum,” I joke, nodding to Zac and swallowing thickly in an attempt to push down my desire.

Tate chuckles, but the worry is still clear in his eyes. “Is it wrong that I want to text her and check in?”

I tilt my head and give it some real consideration before answering. Emery has opened up to me about some of the experiences she’s missed out on because of their overprotectiveness. But she doesn’t hate knowing they care.

“Maybe something simple?” I offer. “Like you hope she has a good night but if she needs a ride to call you.”

He sighs, glancing down at his phone again. “I could check her location and show up,” he points at and I think he’s only half-joking.

I laugh, slapping him on the shoulder. “That would earn you the silent treatment again.” As much as I am on board with showing up and keeping how good she looks away from the world, I can’t do that to her. Everyone deserves to have nights where they cut loose a little.

Even if that thought sends painful tingles down my spine that almost make me see red. But I won’t be the cause of her unhappiness because jealousy is eating me from the inside out.

“Might be awkward if she doesn’t talk to me the entire trip, huh?” he jokes. “Alright, how about this?” He starts typing on his phone and I read over his shoulder.

Tate: Hey Em. Have fun tonight and be safe. If you’re drinking, don’t forget to not take drinks from anyone you don’t know, or actually anyone you do know either. You never know who you can’t trust. Only take drinks that are sealed and you open yourself, don’t leave your drink unattended and walk around with your hand covering it. It’s easier to slip something into your drink than you’d think. Okay, but also have fun. And call me if you need a ride. Be safe. Oh and text me when you make it home so I know you’re safe. Probably text Zac too but ignore him if he’s being a dick. Okay, love you.

I smirk as he finally finishes the message, arching a brow for my approval. “Well, it’s not simple,” I tease.

“Fuck off,” he curses, smacking me. “I worry about her.”

I nod. “I know. The message is good, but she’s absolutely going to tease you about it.”

He hits send without changing anything. “I’ll take her teasing over the silent treatment.”

We hang out at the party for only a little while longer before Tate decides it’s time to call it a night. He sends Beau, Baylor, Wells, and James to round up the rest of the hockey players and waits until all of his players have been accounted for and are heading home before we finally leave. I always knew he would be a good captain. His oldest child qualities are too strong for him not to be.

Once we get home, everyone goes their separate ways and Baylor wears a smirk on his face as he nods a goodnight to me. I wave him off. Lucky bastard knows Torryn will be coming home to crawl into his bed tonight. I should really invest in some ear plugs.

It’s still too early for me to fall asleep, but the rest of the guys need a good night’s rest for the game tomorrow. The last one I won’t be on the ice with them for. The last one I’ll have the chance to watch with Emery at my side.

I crash into bed, finally free to check my phone without any interruption. There’s no message from Emery and disappointment simmers in my gut. Maybe I should have drank at least a little bit tonight. It’s not like I have to be up early or have to train tomorrow morning.

Though I probably will anyway.

Just because I can’t train with the team on the ice or in the gym, doesn't mean I can’t train with the guys outside of school or on my own.

Emery and I usually meet at the game, though last week we met earlier and had lunch together before picking up Colby and going. I could probably convince her to do that again if she’s not too hungover and crabby.

I open social media and seek out Emery to find her story ringed in green and smirk to myself. She added me to her close friends and I know her brothers aren’t on it, because the freakout would have been even bigger if they had seen this picture of her friend pouring tequila into her parted lips.

I definitely should have gotten her location off of Tate’s phone before saying goodnight. I click through to her next photo to find the group photo Tate had shown me at the party. She looks just as good as I recall. My eyes drift right over the other girls to focus on her. It’s impossible not to be drawn to her. But as I click through to the next photo, the breath is stolen from my lungs. It’s of her alone in that jaw-dropping outfit. But what really stops me in my tracks is the way her long hair spills down her back with the way her head is tilted back and her mouth parted open in a clear laugh. I can almost hear her laughing in my mind.

I swipe up on the photo and chew on my lip, debating if I should send anything and what I could say that wouldn’t be too much. I want to tell her that she should have sent me this photo instead. I want to put it as my background and see that smile every time I look at it .

But friends don’t say that.

Instead, I puss out and like the photo instead, taking a screenshot for myself so it won’t disappear tomorrow.

My phone vibrates in my hand, and it’s embarrassing how quickly I check it only to be disappointed and then confused when I see Torryn’s name on the screen.

Torryn: You need to get to the bar

Torryn: Emery is here and her friends are about to meet Betty

What the actual fuck? I figured they were going to a party at some shit head’s house, not to a shitty titty bar in the next town over. What the fuck was she thinking?

I don’t bother to even text Torryn back, hitting the call button instead.

“Working here, Xander,” she snaps, but I don’t let her tone bother me. She still answered.

“You can’t text me something like that and expect me not to call,” I point out.

The chaos of the bar is loud behind her and I’ve spent enough time watching Torryn working to know she must be absolutely slammed.

“Just get here and I’ll explain. I don’t have time for this.”

Any other circumstances I would listen to Torryn, but not when it comes to Emery. I’m not fucking around when it comes to her. “Is she okay?”

Torryn sighs, telling someone else to fuck off and mind their own business. “She’s fine. Drunk off her ass though,” she finally answers and my stomach dips. Has Emery ever been drunk off her ass? I don’t even know .

“I’ll be there soon,” I promise, hanging up and searching for a sweatshirt to throw on and slip my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants.

As soon as I get to the bar, I head straight for Torryn to find out more information. It’s even busier here than I thought it was going to be. With a quick glance around the room, I don’t even spot Emery or her friends.

“That was fast,” Torryn says when she spots me pushing through to the bar top, but I catch the relief in her eyes.

“Where is she?” I demand, my worry making my voice hard.

Torryn points to the corner of the room adjacent to the pit where the strippers dance. “They’re over there. Emery is sitting in the corner of the booth.”

My eyes track where she’s pointing and spot a couple of girls that look familiar dancing next to the table where a third girl sits, but none of them are Emery.

“Her friends were ordering her doubles,” Torryn explains. “It wasn’t until the one sitting with Em told me not to serve them anymore that I realized they weren’t telling her they were doubles.”

Anger fills me and I snap at her. “What the fuck, Tor? Why didn’t you call me as soon as she showed up here?”

She arches one dark brow in my direction, enough to tell me she would stab me and not think twice about it and I wince, but refuse to back down.

“Unlike you, I don’t think I’m her parent. She can do whatever the hell she wants.”

Isn’t that what I was reminding Tate of only earlier tonight? At the same time though, did we ever head to a strip club when we were eighteen? Okay, nevermind. We definitely did.

“I am her friend though,” she continues. “ I was keeping an eye on her. She’s not having any fun and her friends don’t seem to fucking understand that.”

I sigh, biting back my frustration. Torryn did more than most people would. “How much did she have?”

She shrugs, putting up a finger to the person next to me at the bar and begins pouring whiskey into a glass before shoving it in his direction. “A lot. I don’t know how many of the shots they ordered they funneled straight to her. My guess is most of them though. They were on a mission to get her fucked up.”

That anger I had just gotten to simmer begins to boil once more but before I can say shit about it, Torryn is flipping me off. “Yeah, I should have realized earlier. It’s a little hectic in here if you hadn’t noticed.” The fact she’s even defending herself is enough to tell me she’s already beating herself up over not noticing what was happening right under her nose.

“You’re not a god, right?” I throw her own words back at her, reminding her and myself it isn’t on her to control the situation.

“I gave her and her friend water. But she needs to go home and sleep this off.”

I attempt to pay her tab, but Tor waves me off. “Thanks for calling me,” I say before turning away and seeking out Emery. I leave the quiet part out, but if she had called Tate, he’d never have let Emery forget it. I love the guy, but all the freedom he’s given to Emery? He’d take it right back.

Her two friends that were dancing have moved further away from the table, getting drawn into a group of men far too old for them to even be considering. Neither one of them seems intoxicated though, so they aren't my problem tonight.

My eyes finally land on Emery, her body curled in on itself as she lays her head on the table. Her blonde curls hide her face from my view. Her friend with dark hair and in an all jean outfit, leans over her, tucking her hair behind her ear and whispering to her.

Relief fills me. At least she has one good friend. The other two are as good as useless as far as I’m concerned.

I slide into the booth on the other side of Emery and her friend glares daggers at me. I’ve never met her before, but she’s alright in my book.

“She isn’t interested, creep,” she sneers in my direction, wrapping her arm around Emery in a protective gesture.

The smile I give her is genuine, but I don’t keep my focus on her as Emery groans. “Oh, M&M,” I chuckle. “What trouble did you get into this time?”

Her head slowly lifts off the table at the sound of my voice and she has a sleepy and very drunk smile on her face as her eyes light up when she sees me. I tuck some of her hair behind her ears, peeling it off her face where it was sticking to her. She is too damn cute.

“I thought Tate told you not to take drinks from anyone?”

Her friend relaxes at her side and releases a sigh. “You know Tate?” she asks.

Emery nods slowly. “He likes Tate more than he likes me,” she pouts, sticking her tongue out at me.

I ignore her, though it’s hard. “Xander,” I introduce myself to her friend. “Tate’s best friend.”

“He’s my friend too,” Emery interjects and my lips twitch.

“Of course, brat. Even if you are in so much trouble right now,” I appease her and she just gives me that drunk smile I’ve never seen before.

Her friend laughs, already more relaxed now and I’m relieved to know she had someone taking care of her. “I tried to convince her to call Tate or Zac but she kept saying she’d never be allowed to leave the house again.”

I wince, but I can’t argue it. “She’s probably right. But I’ve got her.” I reach my hand out to Emery and she immediately grabs it, but makes no effort to climb out of the booth behind me.

Her friend chews on her lip, watching the interaction. She wavers back and forth between worry, guilt, and amusement.

“Come on, Em. Time to go,” I cajole her.

She lifts her head and slowly begins to shake it. “I don’t like it.”

“What don’t you like, brat?” I ask.

She drops her head back down to the table. “Moving. The room spins.”

Oh fuck me. Just how drunk is she?

Her friend gnaws on her lip. “She took a lot of shots,” she admits cautiously. “I don’t think she realized how much she was drinking. Becca and Chels were telling her she just needed to relax and the drinks would help.”

My sweet, naive brat. Seems like we will have plenty to talk about tomorrow when she’s sober. “Thanks for looking out for her,” I tell her, needing to get out of here before I snap. “I’ve got her from here.”

She tugs on my sleeve as she climbs out of the booth. “You’ll stay with her?” she confirms. “I’m worried she’s going to be sick tonight.”

I nod. “I’ve got her.” I take her spot at the edge of the booth and try to coax Emery into letting me help her up. After several failed attempts, I offer to carry her and she finally agrees to that, crawling into my lap and wrapping her arms around my neck.

I chuckle, pulling her closer into my body as I scoot closer to the edge so I don't bump her against the table as I stand. “You really are my little brat, aren’t you?”

She mumbles something against my chest but I can’t even begin to make it out. I’m pretty sure I heard something about a knight though.

“Let’s get you home.” I wave to Torryn as I carry Emery out of the bar. Her friends call after her, but I don’t slow my steps to say goodbye to them. Emery can talk to them tomorrow, hopefully to tell them to fuck off after how much tequila they poured down her throat.

“Not home,” Emery mutters as the cold night air hits us and she shivers in my arms. Fuck, how did she go out like this in these temperatures?

As soon as we reach my truck, I put her in the front seat and reach into the back to find one of my sweatshirts. It’s an old one from my high school, but it’s nice and soft. She doesn’t fight me as I pull it over her body to protect her from at least some of the night chill.

Blasting the heater, I aim the vents at her but her face is scrunched as if she’s in pain.

“Spinning,” she whines and I sigh. Poor girl is in for a rough night.

The center console lifts into a third seat and I push it back, encouraging Emery to lay down. She doesn’t hesitate to flop her body down, dropping her head into my lap as she curls in on herself. I readjust the vents and fix the sweatshirt to cover her stomach as she gets comfortable and buckle her in while debating my next steps.

She needs someone to keep an eye on her through the night so she doesn’t choke on her vomit. If I take her home and stay with her, her dad will definitely notice that on the cameras. But taking her back to the hockey house comes with its own risks. Mostly, all the other players in the house.

Fuck it. Famous last words, but with the guys all having early mornings, they won’t notice an extra person in my room.

The drive back home takes a little longer because I drive slower now that I have Emery with me. She barely moves or makes any sound the entire way, and I’m almost sure she’s asleep until I park and her eyes flicker open.

“Hey, sleepyhead. You okay?”

She groans my name and attempts to sit up slowly. My hand on her back helps ease her up as she looks around confused about where she is. “I don’t feel good,” she admits.

“I know, baby girl,” I console. “Do you want me to carry you?”

She looks like she’s about to say no, but as she tries to move towards the door, her entire face turns green. “Alright, hold on,” I tell her, rushing to get out of the car and to her side before she throws up all over my truck.

We almost make it to the bathroom before she loses the battle and vomits into my chest. The tears start almost immediately after as she apologizes. I hush her, trying to calm her down and assure her it’s okay. The more worked up she gets, the worse she’s going to feel.

The second wave of nausea hits her as we make it to the bathroom. I gently lay her down next to the toilet and hold her hair back as she empties more tequila from her stomach. If I wasn’t told what she had been drinking, there’d be no doubt because of the smell. I don’t even want to know how many shots she ended up taking.

Tears spill down her face as she heaves and nothing comes up. “Shh, it’s okay, Em,” I soothe her, brushing my fingers through her hair.

“I threw up on you,” she cries, her ears turning red in embarrassment. “I just wanted to feel normal.”

My heart aches for her, knowing how irrational and overwhelming it can feel to be that level of drunk. “Have you ever been drunk before, Em? ”

She shakes her head and cuts off with a groan. “Not like this,” she answers. “Barely at all.”

As I thought. I smile, as she rests her head against the toilet seat. At least I know it’s a clean bathroom. Torryn would have our balls if it was anything but pristine at all times. “We’ve all been there. Don’t be embarrassed.”

She mumbles something incoherent into her arm and I strip out of my vomit covered sweatshirt and toss it to the side. I’ll have to grab the one she’s wearing too before I toss them in the washing machine.

“Tate and Zac have both puked on me before too,” I tell her to make her feel better. “It’s like a Moore right of passage at this point.”

She lifts her head, narrowing her eyes at me with suspicion. “Really?”

She looks so damn cute. “Really,” I swear. “But you’re much cuter, so I won’t even give you shit about it tomorrow like I did to them.”

Her eyes lift to take in my now shirtless state and her eyes stay glued to my abs. Who can blame me for flexing? If she’s going to look, I should at least give her something nice to look at, right?

“What happened to your shirt?” she asks, scrunching her brows.

I point to the heap on the floor. “Do you really want a reminder?”

Her groan is answer enough and she turns back to the toilet, but I don’t think she’s about to be sick again. Not yet, anyway. I lean over her, flushing the toilet for her so she doesn’t have to keep breathing in the awful smell of stomach bile and tequila.

I get a warm wash rag ready for her and help her clean up her face, using some of Torryn’s products to remove the makeup. It takes longer than it should as Emery pukes two more times before I think she’s finally done.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, helping her out of my sweatshirt. I toss it and the washcloth next to my other sweatshirt.

A grunt is her only response, which really isn’t helpful. I use Torryn’s brush to get the tangles out of her hair the best I can manage and pull it back into a low ponytail. It won’t win me any awards, but it’ll do for the night.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back,” I promise her, grabbing the pile of laundry to throw into the wash while I’m downstairs. I also grab two water bottles, a bag of pretzels, and a bottle of painkillers. If I get enough of this stuff into her, it should help her not throw up again and hopefully minimize some of the killer hangover she’s going to have tomorrow.

By the time I get back to the bathroom, she still hasn’t moved and I’m pretty sure she’s half asleep. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you in bed.” She wraps her arms around my neck as I lift her off the ground and cradle her against my chest.

“It’s not fair,” she whines.

I hum an acknowledgement, pushing open the door to my room. “What’s not fair?”

“How hot you are,” she grumbles and I kick the door closed behind us.

I chuckle as I sit her on the edge of my bed. “Well, I think it’s unfair how adorable you are.”

She groans, covering her face with both her hands and I turn away to grab a shirt for her to wear to sleep. “I don’t want to be adorable,” she complains, throwing herself back on my bed. “I want to be hot.”

It’s impossible not to be infatuated with this girl. “You’re very hot,” I admit, grabbing her hands to pull her up and get my shirt over her, trying to cover up some of her hotness .

She does absolutely nothing to help me. “You’re just saying that,” she argues.

This girl, I swear. “You’re going to be the death of me,” I mutter. “My life would be a whole lot easier if you weren’t so damn hot, Em.” I should regret those words the second they’re out of my mouth, but I sincerely doubt she will remember any of this night tomorrow. So at least we have that.

“Yeah?” she asks, a smile pulling up her lips. She stands before I have a chance to say anything and unbuttons her skirt, pushing her down her legs. My eyes flash to the ceiling, but not fast enough to miss the scrap of lace that covers her pussy.

Nope.

We are not letting our mind wander down that extremely dangerous path.

I move to the side of the bed, pulling the covers down and checking to see if it’s safe to look at Emery again. My shirt hits her mid thigh and I heave a sigh of relief, gesturing for her to get into bed. As soon as she’s tucked in, I pass her the water and pretzels, which she refuses to eat. At least she finishes an entire bottle of water with some encouragement. Not that it does anything to help sober her up.

She reminds me of a cat the way she curls up in my bed, almost begging to be praised and pet. I pat her head before I can think twice about it, and she leans up into the touch. “More,” she asks, catching my hand and pulling me closer to her.

I sit next to her on the bed and she takes the chance to scoot closer, resting her head in my lap once more. “Get some sleep,” I whisper, caressing her cheek.

“But I’ll miss you,” she whispers back and my heart skips a beat without permission.

My thumb brushes over her lips reverently. So soft. “I’ll be right here,” I promise .

Her arms wrap around my waist and she buries her face against my stomach. “Not enough,” she says against my skin and goosebumps rise all over my body.

“Then what does my brat want?”

Her lips press against my abs and my whole body tenses. “You.” The confession barely a breath, but one strong enough to blow everything between us up. I hold my breath, pulling her up to look me in the eyes. Instead of sitting next to me, like I thought she would, she straddles my lap, her nose bumping against mine.

“You’re drunk,” I remind the both of us, but it’s mostly for my own sake. She doesn't mean that. Doesn’t understand what she’s doing to me. How my interest in her has deepened as I’ve seen new and different sides to her as her friend over the last few weeks.

“You almost kissed me when you were drunk,” she points out with the cutest frown on her face, tilting her head as if she’s thinking about kissing me now.

I bop her nose, pulling back and putting space between us. “I thought we agreed to leave that in the past?”

Her pout deepens and her hands land on my chest, trailing down to my stomach and the waistband of my pants. “So why can’t I kiss you when I’m drunk?”

“Because, baby girl,” I start, leaning into her space until we’re almost sharing the same breath. “When I kiss you, you’re going to remember every goddamn second of the moment I stole your heart for myself.” I flip her over, tucking her back into her side of the bed and turning off the light. “Now, go to sleep.”

“When?” she asks, a smirk full of victory replacing her pout.

“If,” I correct, knowing it’s far too late for that now.

My smug as shit brat knows it too. “That’s not what you said, Alexander.” The way she drags out my full name, letting it roll off her tongue, does things to me I shouldn’t put a name too. I turn my back on her, my mind racing and my heart nearly beating right out of my chest.

“I’ll be waiting.”