Sidequest for Love by L.H. Cosway

“No, it isn’t. I can’t count the number of times I’ve gotten shitfaced and Michaela or Sarita have had to escort me home. It’s what friends do for each other.”

“Right, friends,” he said, and there was an odd note in his voice, but I put it down to his lack of sobriety. The lift opened, and we stepped out, Neil’s arm still around my shoulders. I found his door and slid in the key before pushing it open.

We entered a moderately sized combined kitchen and living area. It was just as neat and tidy as I expected it to be, with a large bookshelf next to a comfortable-looking grey sofa, a coffee table, and a flat screen TV on the wall. For a second, I imagined us having our movie nights all curled up together on that sofa, and a swell of want bloomed within me. I wanted to watch movies here with Neil. I wanted to laze on his sofa reading novels from his bookshelf while he whipped something up for us in the kitchen.

Man, I really did have it bad. Pretty sure I’d never drunkenly lusted after cosy domestic bliss before.

Neil finally let go of me before leaning back against the wall as he kicked off his shoes.

“Thanks for getting me home,” he said. “How are you … going … to get …”

“Home?” I finished, and he nodded. “I’ll order a taxi.”

Neil frowned and glanced over at the sofa I’d just been ogling. “You can sleep over there if you want. I have some extra pillows and blankets … somewhere.”

His offer sent a flutter through me. I was on the verge of accepting when my phone buzzed in my bag. I pulled it out and quickly read the text before bringing my attention back to Neil.

“That was Sarita. She and Mabel are in a taxi now. They’re going to stop off here and pick me up. This building is more or less on their way, so—”

Before I could finish the sentence, Neil closed the distance between us. I stood frozen as he lowered his face to my neck, his nose nuzzling at the sensitive hollow below my ear as he breathed, “I wish you could stay.”

For a second, I swear my heart stopped beating. “I wish I could, too, but I’m drunk, and you’re even drunker. It’s a bad idea.”

His nose moved, drawing a line from my neck up to my jaw. “I love how soft you are,” he said, and a shiver trickled down my spine. “I love you in this dress.” His hand came to rest on my ribs, just below the swell of my breast. The heat of it seared into me, warming me up from the outside in.

“Neil,” I said his name, a weak protest.

“I want to kiss you. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“You know I don’t do kissing.” My heart hammered a mile a minute as my subconscious added, but for you, I might. The realisation was startling. I honestly hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone since I was fourteen years old.

“Do you have any idea how much that kills me?” he asked, his breathing heavy against me as he finally withdrew. I couldn’t believe he just said that. Had he been thinking about kissing me? Did my preference bother him so much because he’d been wanting to kiss me as badly as he seemed to want to right now?

He lifted his head, his eyes so bright and intense I would’ve fallen over if he didn’t have me backed up against the wall. “I know I’m going to … regret saying all this in the morning.”

“Don’t. It’s nice to be wanted.”

Now his eyes practically blazed. “Want is too tame a word.”

I stared at him, just stared and stared until the annoying vibration of my phone interrupted the moment. Sarita and Mabel were obviously outside in the taxi, and I wasn’t enough of an arsehole to leave them with the meter running just to prolong this epic moment of honesty between Neil and me.

“That’s probably Sarita,” I said. “I should go.”

He didn’t move away, instead pressing even closer. “I can’t understand why I want you so much,” he murmured, and I became aware of a stiff length against my thigh.

I swallowed tightly. “One of life’s strange mysteries.”

Neil blew out a long breath. “I should let you go.”

“Yes, you should.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“Me neither.”

Now his eyes met mine again, and they were practically undressing me. “Text Sarita and tell her you’re staying here.”

I lifted a hand and stroked his cheek. “If you weren’t drunk right now, I would.” I’d do it in a heartbeat.

“I’m not that drunk.”

“I practically had to lift you out of the taxi, Neil.”

He huffed an amused breath. “Fine. I’m drunk. But that doesn’t mean—”

“It means you’re not thinking straight. I’m not thinking straight either. Now go and drink some water before you go to bed. You don’t want to have a hangover in the morning.”

“Okay,” he said, looking at me like I was torturing him by leaving. I moved away and toward the door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said as I left.

“See you tomorrow, Afric,” he reluctantly replied.





13.



Neil

I woke up with the mother and father of a hangover. The tail end of last night was a little blurry, though I did recall flashes of Afric coming back here with me in a taxi. Freaking out, I sat up in bed, trying to recall what happened, what I’d said to her. There was a half-finished glass of water on my nightstand. I picked it up and downed it in one long gulp, just as the memories resurfaced.