Dance for Me(40)

I pour myself another glass. And another. I don’t remember crawling into bed, but I do remember waking up in the middle of the night. Just snippets of memory really. The room spinning, my stomach pitching and rolling with it. An unseen hand holding my hair back as I retch into a bucket beside the bed.

When I wake up in the morning, the sheets cling to me. The chill in the room causes goosebumps to erupt on my skin, but I’m sweating, as though I have a fever. The sun spilling through the partially opened curtains blinds me and my head pounds violently.

The humming in my ears is almost as bad—sharp and stabbing, like someone left a power drill running in my skull.

But wait.

I force myself to sit up and my body sways with the effort.

The drill isn’t in my head, but somewhere else in the apartment. As I try to assess where exactly it’s coming from, it stops. Moments tick by and I watch the doorway. One thought repeats in my head as I wait: A hand held my hair back.

Someone is in my apartment.

Quickly, I sift through my memory, compiling a list of who has a key to my place, but it’s like wading through quicksand. My thoughts are sluggish, and by the time I think I’ve counted everyone, which is practically no one, as Annie and my landlord are the only two people who should have one, it’s too late.

Ransom fills the doorway. He pauses when he sees me, a soft smile in his eyes. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

I’m lost for words. I watch him stride into the room, his long legs eating up the carpet so fast my eyes strain to keep up, but I do. Dressed in only a pair of loose fitting jeans that hang low on his hips, revealing a sculpted torso, he’s impossible to look away from. Makes it impossible to think.

A tall glass of green liquid is pushed in front of my face. “What’s this?” I croak as I cautiously accept the offering. My nose scrunches up as I take a sniff. There is a medley of scents, all of which make me queasy.

“It’s my mother’s hangover remedy. It’s guaranteed to clear your head and get you back on your feet.”

By throwing up, I presume. “What’s in it?”

“Just a few greens, some protein, and a couple vitamins. Drink.”

His fingertips nudge the bottom of the glass, urging me to do as he says. I take a cautious sip. It’s a balance between sweet and bitter, not altogether appalling. The grainy texture turns me off a bit, though, as does the slight smell of peanut butter, but I continue drinking until the cup is half gone and my stomach threatens to revolt.

Handing the glass over, I lie back down and close my eyes. Listening as Ransom sets the glass down and lowers himself onto the bed beside me, I’m reminded of a question I needed to ask.

“How did you get into my apartment?” I’d been in such a foul mood after leaving Annie, I hoped like hell my anger hadn’t made me forget to lock up.

“I borrowed a spare I found in your junk drawer.”

Somehow, that strikes me as even worse than forgetting to flip the locks. “So you just took it?”

“In case of an emergency.”

I repeat his words to myself. For some reason, it strikes me as funny. Here’s this man who I’ve been having sex with for months, who never cared a lick about my personal anything before, and suddenly, he’s concerned about my welfare. “Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Would you have given it to me if I had?”

I open my eyes and fall straight into his. They’re blank, unreadable…and I don’t know what I would have done. “I guess we’ll never know.”

He sighs. “No, I suppose we never will.” Standing, he crosses to the door and bends down to scoop up a bundle of fresh sheets. “Go grab a shower. I’ll take care of things in here.”

I don’t argue because as disgusting as I feel, I need a moment alone more.

I take my time showering and exploring how I feel about Ransom having a key to my place. I didn’t give it to him, he took it. I’m not sure how I feel about that.

On one hand, I’m ticked off that he had the audacity to just help himself. It’s basically stealing, but should I really be surprised? I’ve never known him to be courteous or particularly concerned with other people’s feelings.

On the other hand, I’m happy he’s here. I don’t know what possessed him to let himself inside—a surprise visit?—but I know that he helped me last night when he didn’t have to.

By the time I turn off the water, I’ve decided to let Ransom slide on a technicality. As embarrassed as I am that he saw me at my worst—for the second time—he took care of me. He stayed and made sure I was okay, and he’s still here.