Page 43 of Emily: Hello Kitten
“Location. Now.” It’s a command, not a question. “I’m coming to get you. I’m going to sober you up, then drop your drunk, bratty ass at your dorm.”
He hangs up just like that. I lick my bottom lip, turn on my location, and share it with him. I rub my forehead as I fan myself. I’m so hot. Why am I so hot in fall? Has to be the alcohol. I should have eaten before we went out.
That’s on me.
A car pulls up on the road and I reach in my purse. Well. I should have brought pepper spray too but dropped the ball there. I almost sniffle when someone looms closer and closer.
“I have pepper spray!” I say in a shaking voice.
“No, you don’t,” Adrian growls. “Up.”
I stand, stumble in my heels, and he wraps his arm around me. Anger and disappointment roll off him in waves. “One week, Emily.”
“Shut up,” I grumble.
“I’d spank you if I thought it would do anything.” He snorts while putting me in his car.
I spend the short car ride trying not to throw up. It’s like all the alcohol is hitting me at once. I’m dizzy, nauseous, kind of want to cry. Adrian finally stops the car, then opens my door. I lean out of it while grabbing my stomach.
He takes my hair in his hand, getting it out of my face, and I slap his hands away. “I’m fine!” I snap, but that doesn’t push him away. He leans closer, unbuckles me, and takes my hand. I turn to get out and then he suddenly squats down and gently touches my knee. “Did you fall?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Did someone try to hurt you?” he asks.
I wave my nails at him. He just reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a bandage. I look at my own nails. “They change colors if a drink is drugged. I always slip my fingers in. It happened to a friend.”
He sighs but doesn’t say anything as he leads me inside, not touching me since he’s sure I can walk well enough. Apparently, we’re not worth any kind of attention to the hostess of whatever diner this is because she seats us, goes to get the coffee and water that Adrian asked for, and then leaves us alone for a while.
“You canceled class today,” I mumble.
“Yes,” he says simply.
It’s uncomfortable to be close to him. I’m not supposed to be. Looking at him, talking to him, being here at all feels more dangerous than walking home alone. But once we get coffee and water, both of which are pushed toward me, I perk up. I don’t pay attention to what he orders. I just pour a ridiculous amount of sugar and creamer into my coffee until I can tolerate drinking it.
“That’s hardly coffee,” Adrian grumbles.
I look up at him, then realize he’s in a very soft, worn T-shirt. Pushing back from the table, I look under it and find him in pajama pants. I blink at him a few times, then blush. “I woke you up.”
“Yes,” he sighs.
“You didn’t have to answer.”
“Yes, I did,” he says, pouring coffee in a mug of his own. “Whenever you call, I’ll answer.”
“That’s stupid,” I mutter.
He shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee. “Keep drinking.”
I drink two mugs of coffee until I feel like I’m shaking with the mix of alcohol and caffeine. Just when I’m about to burst and ask Adrian every question I can think of, waffles appear in front of me.
I glance up at Adrian and he smiles softly. “You told me you prefer waffles to pancakes.”
“Why would you remember that?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Felt important.”
I glimpse at the sun on his bicep, peeking out from under his sleeve. “Still believe every day is a new opportunity?”
