Started With A Kiss

Chapter 17

sawyer -> 

♡ Chapter 17 ♡

Chris was pretty persistent when it came to ringing doorbells. He spent fifteen minutes obnoxiously ringing the doorbell and banging on the door. It was a good thing my family members were heavy sleepers, or he'd be in trouble. 

"Is he going to do that the whole night?" I complained irritably to Savanna, pulling the duvet over my head so I wouldn't have to hear the annoying ringing. 

"I'm not sure. I've never seen him so persistent," Savanna commented. I heard her get up from the mattress. "I'm going to open the-" 

"No," I scrambled up from my bed. "I'm not giving in so easily."

"If you say so," Savanna looked at me unsurely. "But I'm sure he's going to stay here until you open the door."

"I doubt he'd do that," I shook my head vigorously, not only to convince her, but to convince myself as well. But a sinking feeling in my heart told me that he'd probably fall asleep by the door. 

The ringing stopped in fifteen minutes and it was followed by the sound of Savanna's soft snores. I switched off the table lamp and lay down, trying to ignore the thought of Chris sitting outside the front door. 

He couldn't be waiting there, could he? 

Forty-five minutes passed by, each tick on the clock making me more and more anxious. After spending a few crucial moments debating whether or not to check on him, I found myself hopping out of bed and silently making my way to the front door. 

I bent down slightly to peek through the peephole. There was no one in sight. Of course, Chris would've left already. I had felt guilty for nothing. 

In annoyance, I gave the door a swift kick and proceeded to hop on one foot while cradling the other. I heard a soft thud of something - someone - hitting the ground gently. Panickedly, I pulled the front door open and stepped out in search for a dead body. 

Chris's body was curled up on the ground, seemingly dead, other than his heavy breathing. His hair was messed up and he looked dishevelled as he lay almost motionless in his suit. 

"Hey," I nudged him with my foot. He didn't budge. "Wake up." 

I squatted beside him and poked him cheek. A faint scent of alcohol surrounded him.  Was he drunk? 

I considered leaving him out in the corridor, but that would most likely arouse suspicion and give me a guilty conscience. Since there wasn't a single person awake in the household, the only option left was for me to drag him into the house by myself. Reluctantly, I removed his dress shoes and heaved him a few inches above the ground. His feet dragged across the ground as I lugged him into the house. 

It must've taken at least ten minutes and Chris must've hit his head on the ground at least five times. It was a wonder how he was still sleeping. When I finally managed to get him onto the sofa, I let out a loud sigh of relief and collapsed onto the nearby chair. 

When I managed to catch my breath, I grabbed him a glass of water and a thick blanket. I placed the glass on the table for him to drink when he awoke, and spread the blanket over him. 

Why am I so nice? I asked myself as I ensured that he was completely covered by the blanket. It was, after all, winter. I should be mad at him.

"We'll talk tomorrow," I told him. "You have a lot of explaining to do." 

Of course, there was no reply.