denying how pleased I was to see him. It was goofy, really. I’d see him at home—hell, I’d see him in bed—but my answering smile felt like it was splitting my face.
Pete let his hand drop from my hip. Bizarrely, we both seemed to have forgotten it was there. “So, this is the drunken guitarist?”
The spell broke. I took another slug of his beer, swallowing slowly as I recalled his response when I’d told him earlier that day I’d probably end up carrying Charlie home at the end of the night.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad way to end a night.”
He’d said it almost absently, like he was talking to himself, but it had stayed with me all day. I smiled up at him now, feeling oddly like he was the only soul in the world. “How can you tell this is Charlie?”
Beside me, Charlie snapped out of his stupor and leaned forward to offer his hand. “Because everybody’s drunk, Ash,” he said seriously.
Pete shook his hand and introduced himself as my roommate. Charlie nodded knowingly. “Hey, man. Nice to put a face to a name.”
I stared at them, completely mystified. Charlie shrugged. “My sister likes to talk. Pete and I are like old friends, right, dude?”
Pete laughed. “Yeah, something like that. Are you leaving?”
I nodded, as bemused as ever. Charlie took advantage of my distraction and migrated toward the line to get back into the bar. I made a grab for him, keeping my eyes on Pete. “I have to see him home or he’ll pass out in the elevator again.”
“Stairwell, actually,” Charlie corrected me with a hiccup.
“Whatever.” I shook my head and turned to Pete, still reluctant to walk away from him. “I’ll see you later?”
Pete tilted his head to the side and gave me a tipsily crooked grin. “Nah, fuck that. I’m coming with you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
C HARLIE lived pretty close to the bar. With Pete’s help, it didn’t take long to steer him home. Pete even took him up to his apartment while I loitered outside to smoke. I was more grateful for that than he’d probably ever realize. It would’ve taken me ages to get Charlie up the stairs, and there was no way I was going in the weird-ass glass elevator. Screw that.
I leaned against the building and waited for Pete to come back. It was a clear night and I felt content and just the right side of totally wasted. I’d had fun with Charlie and Joe, and running into Pete had been a bonus I hadn’t expected. I couldn’t stop staring at him, especially when he was taking care of Charlie. I’d seen his comforting bedside manner before, but at the time I’d been too self-absorbed to really appreciate it. Watching him expertly maneuver Charlie’s lurching body and patiently respond to his slurring attempts to communicate had been oddly compelling. Add in his two-day stubble and hazy, buzzed eyes, and I was done.
“What are you brooding about?”
I opened my eyes and he was right in front of me, his lazy grin still firmly in place. “Nothing,” I lied. “Did he go in okay?”
“Yeah, he’s out for the count,” Pete said. “That’s some pad he’s got there. Makes our place look shabby.”
“I like your place,” I protested. Charlie and Ellie both lived in flashy converted apartments, but I preferred Pete’s rickety old building. With its battered old couch and creaking pipes, it suited me much better.
Pete nudged me away from the wall. “You don’t like your room.”
I discarded my cigarette and fell into step beside him. “I don’t like sleeping in my room. It’s not the same thing.”
“You’re not going to split on me, are you?”
The question was light, casual almost, but when I glanced at him, he was watching me closely, like he was afraid of my answer. “Where would I go?”
“I don’t know.”
His uncertain tone surprised me. I stopped walking and turned to face him. He looked away. It was the first time I’d ever seen him unsure, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to put my
Pete let his hand drop from my hip. Bizarrely, we both seemed to have forgotten it was there. “So, this is the drunken guitarist?”
The spell broke. I took another slug of his beer, swallowing slowly as I recalled his response when I’d told him earlier that day I’d probably end up carrying Charlie home at the end of the night.
“That doesn’t sound like a bad way to end a night.”
He’d said it almost absently, like he was talking to himself, but it had stayed with me all day. I smiled up at him now, feeling oddly like he was the only soul in the world. “How can you tell this is Charlie?”
Beside me, Charlie snapped out of his stupor and leaned forward to offer his hand. “Because everybody’s drunk, Ash,” he said seriously.
Pete shook his hand and introduced himself as my roommate. Charlie nodded knowingly. “Hey, man. Nice to put a face to a name.”
I stared at them, completely mystified. Charlie shrugged. “My sister likes to talk. Pete and I are like old friends, right, dude?”
Pete laughed. “Yeah, something like that. Are you leaving?”
I nodded, as bemused as ever. Charlie took advantage of my distraction and migrated toward the line to get back into the bar. I made a grab for him, keeping my eyes on Pete. “I have to see him home or he’ll pass out in the elevator again.”
“Stairwell, actually,” Charlie corrected me with a hiccup.
“Whatever.” I shook my head and turned to Pete, still reluctant to walk away from him. “I’ll see you later?”
Pete tilted his head to the side and gave me a tipsily crooked grin. “Nah, fuck that. I’m coming with you.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
C HARLIE lived pretty close to the bar. With Pete’s help, it didn’t take long to steer him home. Pete even took him up to his apartment while I loitered outside to smoke. I was more grateful for that than he’d probably ever realize. It would’ve taken me ages to get Charlie up the stairs, and there was no way I was going in the weird-ass glass elevator. Screw that.
I leaned against the building and waited for Pete to come back. It was a clear night and I felt content and just the right side of totally wasted. I’d had fun with Charlie and Joe, and running into Pete had been a bonus I hadn’t expected. I couldn’t stop staring at him, especially when he was taking care of Charlie. I’d seen his comforting bedside manner before, but at the time I’d been too self-absorbed to really appreciate it. Watching him expertly maneuver Charlie’s lurching body and patiently respond to his slurring attempts to communicate had been oddly compelling. Add in his two-day stubble and hazy, buzzed eyes, and I was done.
“What are you brooding about?”
I opened my eyes and he was right in front of me, his lazy grin still firmly in place. “Nothing,” I lied. “Did he go in okay?”
“Yeah, he’s out for the count,” Pete said. “That’s some pad he’s got there. Makes our place look shabby.”
“I like your place,” I protested. Charlie and Ellie both lived in flashy converted apartments, but I preferred Pete’s rickety old building. With its battered old couch and creaking pipes, it suited me much better.
Pete nudged me away from the wall. “You don’t like your room.”
I discarded my cigarette and fell into step beside him. “I don’t like sleeping in my room. It’s not the same thing.”
“You’re not going to split on me, are you?”
The question was light, casual almost, but when I glanced at him, he was watching me closely, like he was afraid of my answer. “Where would I go?”
“I don’t know.”
His uncertain tone surprised me. I stopped walking and turned to face him. He looked away. It was the first time I’d ever seen him unsure, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to put my
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