“Um.” Austin’s cheeks reddened as she slowly nodded. “Y-yes, she does.”
I don’t know why I did it, why my teenage self suddenly came alive like a vampire at night and decided to launch my adult body across the room and slap a hand over Avery’s mouth. “What’s his name again?” I said.
Avery tried to bite my hand.
Austin kept mumbling.
Avery kept biting.
Until Austin finally said, “I forget. They’ve only gone on two dates.”
“What?” I roared, pulling my hand back. “You slept with him after two dates?”
Avery groaned and covered her face with her hands. “You have no right to be angry when you sleep with a different girl every single night.”
“He doesn’t sleep with anyone on Sundays,” Thatch piped in as he made his way into the living room, where the third world war was breaking out.
“Thanks,” I said through clenched teeth.
He shrugged and offered Austin a glass of wine. “Want to see my comic book collection?”
I moaned, while Avery burst out laughing.
“Is that what the kids call it these days?” Austin stood and let out a sultry laugh. “Tell me you have costumes to go with, and I’m in.”
“God, where have you been all my life?”
“I think it’s time to go,” Avery whispered against my fingers.
Her lips were hot.
Her tongue touched my skin.
And I suddenly didn’t want to wash my hand—ever.
Which clearly meant that Avery and Austin were bringing down the average age of the group by their collective immaturity. Great, by next week I’d be twenty-one again, doing Irish car bombs and puking in the streets. Couldn’t wait for that fun!
Thatch led Austin to the bedroom, and I held out my hand to Avery. Naturally, she slapped it away because she was an ungrateful pain in my ass, but at least I’d offered.
We started walking out of the apartment in silence.
“Don’t forget your purse!” I called out just as she passed it.
With a near stumble and face-plant against the counter, Avery grabbed her purse and hooked her arm around it, then her blurry eyes connected with mine.
“Shit,” I muttered. “Are you drunk?”
“No!” She laughed while she said it.
I counted to five.
I was trying to keep myself from dropping enough F bombs to make her sob her eyes out and impale me with the shoes she was still having trouble walking in. If she was drunk, I couldn’t just happily send her on her way.
I had to take care of her. Damn me to hell.
“Come on,” I said in a gruff voice. I was gentle as I wrapped my arm around her waist and helped her walk toward the elevator.
She clung to me.
I didn’t expect to like holding her—or to move a little closer while she nestled her head against my chest and yawned. “I’m tired.”
“Well, it’s one in the morning.”
“That’s so early!”
“God, was I ever that young?” I asked, mostly to myself.
Her body slumped heavily against me as the elevator surged down toward the lobby.
“Hey, where do you live? I’ll get you a car.” I shook her a bit.
She didn’t move; instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around my neck and made a little mewling sound that was cute as hell.
Her breath was hot against my neck, her body soft.
“I better get a damn medal for this,” I whispered to myself, careful not to wake her as I lifted her into my arms and walked the two blocks to my place.
By the time we reached my apartment, she was full on snoring, and every few minutes she whispered, “Twinkie.”
I’d like to think I was the reason she was dreaming of Twinkies chasing her since a Twinkie was one of the last things I’d mentioned to her before she conked out.
She was a strong little thing, clinging to me like she was afraid I was going to put her down.
It had been a long time since I’d let a woman cling to me at all. All arms and legs, wrapped around me, with no sex in the foreseeable future.
Just thinking about sex with her had my body responding when it needed to stay the hell dormant. Like a bear during the winter.
I didn’t turn on any lights as I walked into the spare bedroom and laid her across the bed.
I would not take care of her.
I would not put a blanket over her or make sure she had water by the nightstand.
Nope.
She did this to herself.
Not me.
I shrugged and got as far as the door before I stopped, turned, saw her smile in her sleep, and heard her make a quiet sound. With a curse, I banged my forehead against the doorframe a few times before returning to the room, pulling the covers back, and slipping her beneath them, but not before taking off her shoes.
I even went so far as to go into the adjoining bathroom, get a glass of water, and set it by her bedside.
It felt wrong somehow—her being in my apartment.
In one of my bedrooms.
And I had no idea why.
Frowning, I stared down at her small body.
How many times in the past decade had I helped her sneak into her parents’ house after a night out with friends? Taught her how to get over a hangover? Or just let her sleep over when her entire family was out of town and she had to stay for softball practice to avoid getting kicked off the team.
That certain night needed to never, ever, never enter back into my consciousness.
Ever.
“Thorn!” Avery yelled, barreling toward my house. I was home for the weekend and staying with my parents, who just happened to live across the street from Avery’s family. “Open the door!”
“Shhh!” I opened the door and smirked. “Avery Bug, my, my, my, this is a surprise—do you do this often? Go to strange men’s homes and ask to be invited in?”
She slugged me in the shoulder. At seventeen, she was still all arms and legs, but her strength was impressive. “I’m scared, let me in.”
I pushed the door wide. “Be my guest, little sis.”
She stuck her tongue out and skipped into my house, then plopped onto my couch, putting her feet up on the table and sighing happily. “Sorry. I’m alone all weekend, and I heard a noise.”
I nodded. “Probably a burglar or an axe murderer. They do seem to know whenever girls are alone in all those horror movies. Good thing you’re here.”
“Make me popcorn?” Her smile about killed me.
“You do realize some people work for a living, right? And don’t often get time off.”
She wiped a fake tear. “You’re so . . .” She frowned. “Old.”
“Why did I let you in again?” I wondered aloud.
Avery laughed and pulled her long strawberry-blonde hair back into a ponytail. “Because you love me?”
“True.” I couldn’t help but smile. “I do, but not enough to make popcorn all by myself.” I held out my hand.