He finally gets me out the door and into his car, which is parked at the back of the venue. Ushering me into the passenger seat, he straps on my seatbelt, and I’m vaguely aware of his knuckles brushing over my cleavage, but I’m not sober enough to enjoy it.
Damn you, wine!
I’m drunker than I’ve been in quite some time. I think the last time I was this shit-faced was during my eighteenth birthday celebrations, where I spent half the night face down on Michelle’s couch, unable to remember how I’d gotten there. Actually, no, I do remember. It was a bottle of cheap vodka from Aldi that got me there.
When we arrive at the house, Jay helps me out of the car, his arm around my waist as he walks us to the front door. He uses his key to let us in, and I walk to the stairs, holding onto the banister as I take my shoes off and fling them away.
“Stupid painful spikey things,” I yammer on, my head fuzzy.
Jay laughs softly as I put my unsteady foot on the first step. “Hey, let me help you, drunky,” he says, coming and wrapping his arm around my waist. It feels good, so I rest my head on his shoulder. He must realise that it’s going to take too long to get me to put one foot in front of the other, so he simply scoops me up like a bride on her wedding night and carries me.
“Wheee!” I squeal, then squeeze his bicep as we ascend. “You’re so strong, Inspector Holmes.”
“You sound impressed.”
“Well, you’re very…impressive.”
“Oh, yeah? How so?”
I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. “Ugh, just…everything.”
We reach my room, and he pushes open the door with his elbow, still not putting me down until we get to my bed. Then he lowers me onto the mattress. Somewhere along the way, my arms managed to wrap themselves around his neck, and they aren’t letting go. Instead I practically pull him down onto the bed with me, laughing hysterically when he lands on top of me.
“Ha! You fell,” I say loudly.
His hand covers my mouth as his chest moves up and down with suppressed laughter. “Be quieter, darlin’. You’ll wake your dad.”
I don’t have a response. In fact, my head is clearing quite rapidly with his hand still on my mouth. My eyes are glued to his fingers on my lips, and he must notice because he moves it then. My breathing becomes laboured at our closeness and the fact that we’re on my bed. He notices this, too, bringing his hands to my arms and trying to remove them from his neck. I remember his words from earlier, how he’d spoken about germs and shaking hands and kissing. I want to exchange some kissing germs right now. Really and truly, the germs wouldn’t bother me at all.
“You’ve got to let go, Matilda,” he says gently.
“I don’t want you to go,” I whisper.
He’s smiling and shaking his head. “You’ve had too much wine. Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Just as he’s about to leave, I pounce, grabbing him and hesitantly pressing my lips to his. Fireworks, electricity, and explosive tingles fire through my system at the contact. His lips feel warm and soft and perfect against mine, and that’s when I realise how rigid his body has become. He lets out a sound that’s halfway between a groan and a growl before moving away. His mouth goes to my forehead, where he presses a soft, momentary kiss, and then he’s gone.
As though my body is just as eager to escape the humiliation as my brain is, I fall asleep almost immediately.
Fourteen
When I wake up, it’s just past seven and my mouth is dry. I must have only slept for about three hours. Ugh, why don’t hangovers ever just let you sleep? My eyes feel like they’re bruised, and my muscles ache. All I want to do is stay in bed, so I burrow further under the covers and snuggle into my pillow. Unfortunately, I’m too thirsty to go back asleep, so I decide to go downstairs and grab some water.
It’s just as I’m crawling out of bed that I remember what I did last night. I tried to kiss Jay, and he gave me the platonic forehead kiss before awkwardly leaving the room. I’ve seen enough rom coms in my time to know what the platonic forehead kiss means.
Feeling a sudden urge to work off the embarrassment, I pull my hair up into a knot on top of my head, put on my exercise gear, and decide to go for a cycle. Thankfully, Jay’s still sleeping, so I manage to grab some water and get my bike out of the shed without bumping into him.
It’s a beautiful July morning when I step outside, the birds singing and the sun shining. I can tell we’re in for a hot day, and already I feel slightly better about myself. Everybody does embarrassing stuff when they’re drunk. It doesn’t mean anything.