Keller shakes his head slightly. I’m sure it’s hard to think through the haze of alcohol in his system. He’s clearly not as intoxicated as Duncan, but he’s had his share. He puts both hands up, arms outstretched in front of him, like he’s trying to tell us to stop and sways back and forth slightly. I almost step forward to make sure he doesn’t fall over. “Wait. Sorry. This is just—”
“I think he’s freaked out because there’s a woman in our apartment,” Duncan says to Shelly in the loudest whisper I’ve ever heard. “When did he bring her home?”
Shelly cuts off the drunken confusion before it goes any further. “Duncan, Keller didn’t bring her home. I brought her here … with me. Remember?”
Duncan shrugs and finally lays his head in Shelly’s lap.
I take the three or four steps it takes to stand next to Keller. He still looks stunned. I offer my hand. “You need some help there?”
His eyes fight to adjust to my sudden closeness. “Katie.” It’s more a breath than a word. He’s searching my eyes. For what? I’d be turned on if it weren’t for the fact that he can’t see straight. Maybe he is as drunk as Duncan.
I offer my hand again. “Come on, dude.”
He slowly raises his hand and hesitates. “Are you really here?”
“Yup. Had a few cocktails tonight, Keller?”
He nods, his mouth slack, but he eventually takes my hand. His grip is gentle, like he has full control of his motor skills. I know he doesn’t. He starts leaning into me, but his grip remains gentle.
“Keep a hand on that towel, chief. We don’t need accidental full frontal. Keep your junk under wraps.” I mean I wouldn’t mind, I think to myself, but …
Duncan laughs from the loveseat. “That’s a first, Banks.”
I need to get this guy to bed, although the thought stirs something in me, something deep inside ... a need … but no, that’s selfish. No! No sex.
I want to.
I really want to.
But I won’t.
I can’t.
He’s a nice guy; I couldn’t do that to him. No attachments.
Lust-filled, innocent, one-sided crushes? Yes, please.
I need to get this guy to bed so he can pass out and sleep this off is what I need to do. Together, we start to shuffle toward the screens.
Shelly calls out, “Keller’s bed’s on the right.”
“Thanks,” I grunt out, because at this point he has both of his arms wrapped around my shoulders and it feels like I’m dragging dead weight. God, he’s heavy.
A twin bed and a small dresser are the extent of his bedroom furniture behind the screen. There’s an acoustic guitar propped up in the corner next to a fixie bicycle. It’s cramped.
“You play guitar, Keller?”
“Yeah,” is all he can manage.
I’m doomed. Guitar players just do it for me.
I lean forward at the foot of his bed and he topples like a domino. A domino that’s still attached to me.
We’re laying chest to chest, his back on the mattress. I’m sure he’s already passed out cold and even though I could lie here all night against his warm skin, I know that’s wrong on way too many levels. So I close my eyes and allow myself five seconds of heaven. I inhale the fresh, soapy smell of him, minty and clean. I press my hands against his chest where the visible muscles are taut, even though he's relaxed. Mmm …
Five seconds is up. I open my eyes and rest my hands on the bed next to each of his shoulders and push up, trying to extricate myself from the long arms wrapped around me. They don’t budge. I’m about to yell for Shelly to come and help me when I hear his dream-like voice low in my ear. “Stay, Katie.”
My heart is racing again. I raise my head and look him in the eye. He’s so close. And his lips are so pink. And they look so damn soft. He’s just about to drift off, so I whisper back, “You need to sleep, Keller. Close your eyes.”
His eyelids drop. He’s slipping away. “I listened to Debussy. It wasn’t boring. It was beautiful … and sexy.” And he’s gone, lost to alcohol and exhaustion.
I smile, pull myself forward, and kiss him lightly on the forehead, because I need to avoid those lips. “Good night, sweetie.” This time when I try to push up and out of his grip, his arms fall away from me. His legs hang off the bed at his knees but the towel is still in place. I put his pillow under his head and wrap him up like a burrito in his comforter so he doesn’t get cold. His baby face looks so innocent when he’s sleeping. Something stirs inside me, not the sexual urge I felt earlier, but a different kind of longing. A different kind of attraction. My chest aches when I look at him. Every part of me wants to sit here and just watch him sleep, stroke his hair, run my fingertips over every perfect feature of his face, and just be near him. I’ve never felt like this before. And instead of freaking me out, it makes me feel calm.
I need to go. Now.
When I return to Shelly she’s still sitting on the loveseat. Duncan is snoring, his head in her lap. “Sorry this night was so lame, Kate. You’re never going to come out with me again.” She looks bummed.
I smile. “This night wasn’t lame. It just didn’t turn out like you wanted it too. That’s not the same thing. Of course I’ll go out with you again.” I look at Duncan sleeping. “And The Boyfriend seems really nice.”
She smiles sadly. “He is, especially when he’s sober. Sorry you had to meet him like this. He’s at work or in class almost all the time; the poor guy hardly ever goes out. And even when he does he rarely drinks.” Her eyes dart down to him. “I can count on two fingers how many times I’ve seen him like this in the year we’ve dated.”