Jesus Christ, what is he doing here? And why is he near passed out drunk? This feels all too familiar...
I kneel down in front of him, taking hold of his hand.
“Glen, what are you doing here? And how much have you drank?”
He sniffs drunkenly before he smiles, letting out a small hum.
“You're back,” he slurs happily. The smell of vodka hits me in the face. I bet he doesn't even know how he got here.
“Glen, what are you doing here?” I repeat slowly.
“I just wanted to see you. See your beautiful face. I miss seeing you.”
“How much have you drank?”
“Not much. Just a bottle of vodka. Not much.” Oh my God. “You're so beautiful.”
I like hearing him say that a little bit too much. I push back the flutters in my stomach and I pull him to his feet. I can't leave him out here in the cold. I could never do something like that to this man.
“Come on, let's get you inside.” He giggles as he loses balance, falling into my arms. The way he lands means that his face is right up close to mine. I could kiss him if I wanted to. Even this drunk, he is still ridiculously...
No.
I pull him inside, making sure he doesn't knock anything over as he staggers next to me. I lead him through to the bedroom, knowing that there is no way he is going to be able to get back to his own place tonight. I know him all too well. Better than I know myself, in fact.
I drop him on my bed, watching him as he giggles uncontrollably. It's been so long since I've seen him in my bed. He doesn't look out of place at all. He's eight years older, much drunker than I've seen him in a very long time, and still he looks like he belongs. How long is this going to last? How long will it take before he is a stranger to my heart?
I sigh and climb onto the bed, fully intent of getting him out of the clothes he's in. It must have rained whilst I was gone, because he's damp. I can't let him sleep in those. He'll get ill, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself.
But the second my hand touches his arm, he stops laughing and looks up at me through those blurry blue eyes of his. My heart starts pounding as he reaches up and runs his hand down my arm. Just the way he knows I like it. Why is he making this so complicated? I'm with Danny. Me and Glen are friends. Why can't he just...
His hand rest on my leg and a delicious shiver runs right through me. I hear my breath hitch and I have to close my eyes to steady myself. He still drives me crazy. Why does he still do this to me?
“I miss you,” he mumbles drunkenly. Shut up, Glen. “I miss you so much.” Shut up, Glen. “You don't know how much I miss you.”
“Shut up, Glen.” My eyes snap open and I see the hurt in his eyes. I can't help but feel guilty, but he needs to stop this game he's playing. “You won't even remember this in the morning. You have no idea what you're doing.”
He pushes himself up, leaning his forehead against mine. His intoxication makes him lean a little harder than he normally would. But that doesn't matter. He's still winding me up. And he knows it.
“I know that I want to kiss you again,” he slurs. He needs to stop this. He needs to stop this now. “And I know you want to kiss me too.”
I can't stop the whimper in my throat. He's right. And if I had any sense, I would move away from him right now. I would tuck him in, leave the room and go to sleep on the settee, thinking about the perfect night me and Danny just shared. If I was a good person, I would do that.
