Emily: Hello Kitten (The ‘Hello’ series)

20. Chapter 20

twenty

I text Beth that I’m heading home and get a winky face in reply. I don’t have the heart to tell her that I’m going home alone because the one man I want is the one man I can’t have. The one man I’ll actually destroy.

As I walk, I think about the last few college years I’ve had. My parents have heard about fewer than a third of my flings. Not all of them have gotten to sex. I might not be a prude, but I’m not easy. I require a connection, chemistry, that ‘need’ that makes sex hotter. I’m not perfect, though. I’ve been caught in drama when a guy told me he was single but had a girlfriend on the side. I’ve been liberal with kisses when drunk.

But I’ve never ruined anyone. Maybe some heartache, but that’s it.

No lasting consequences.

If I slip up with Adrian, all we’ll be able to face are consequences. So, I can’t let him come get me. Even though my phone keeps dinging.

Where the fuck are you, Emily?

I’m driving, looking for you.

Answer your phone!

Why are you scaring me like this?

The last message breaks my heart. I drag myself to a short wall and sit on it, watching the blood roll over my knee and to my shin. I play with my phone, then call him. I can tell he’s pissed when he speaks.

“Where are you?”

“I told you not to come,” I whisper as my eyes sting.

“You are a drunk woman walking around at night alone,” he snarls. “I’m not going to ignore that.”

I look around, noting how few cars and people are walking around. The small groups of people are drunk girls, giggling and laughing, but I see a few guys milling around. I think they’re guys.

“I’m halfway to the dorms… I think.” I squint into the distance. “Yeah. I take a turn at that light… campus isn’t that big. There are safety lights, it’s—”

“Location. Now.” It’s a command, not a question. “I’m coming to get you. I’m going to sober you up, then drop your drunk, bratty ass at your dorm.”

He hangs up just like that. I lick my bottom lip, turn on my location, and share it with him. I rub my forehead as I fan myself. I’m so hot. Why am I so hot in fall? Has to be the alcohol. I should have eaten before we went out.

That’s on me.

A car pulls up on the road and I reach in my purse. Well. I should have brought pepper spray too but dropped the ball there. I almost sniffle when someone looms closer and closer.

“I have pepper spray!” I say in a shaking voice.

“No, you don’t,” Adrian growls. “Up.”

I stand, stumble in my heels, and he wraps his arm around me. Anger and disappointment roll off him in waves. “One week, Emily.”

“Shut up,” I grumble.

“I’d spank you if I thought it would do anything.” He snorts while putting me in his car.

I spend the short car ride trying not to throw up. It’s like all the alcohol is hitting me at once. I’m dizzy, nauseous, kind of want to cry. Adrian finally stops the car, then opens my door. I lean out of it while grabbing my stomach.

He takes my hair in his hand, getting it out of my face, and I slap his hands away. “I’m fine!” I snap, but that doesn’t push him away. He leans closer, unbuckles me, and takes my hand. I turn to get out and then he suddenly squats down and gently touches my knee. “Did you fall?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Did someone try to hurt you?” he asks.

I wave my nails at him. He just reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a bandage. I look at my own nails. “They change colors if a drink is drugged. I always slip my fingers in. It happened to a friend.”

He sighs but doesn’t say anything as he leads me inside, not touching me since he’s sure I can walk well enough. Apparently, we’re not worth any kind of attention to the hostess of whatever diner this is because she seats us, goes to get the coffee and water that Adrian asked for, and then leaves us alone for a while.

“You canceled class today,” I mumble.

“Yes,” he says simply.

It’s uncomfortable to be close to him. I’m not supposed to be. Looking at him, talking to him, being here at all feels more dangerous than walking home alone. But once we get coffee and water, both of which are pushed toward me, I perk up. I don’t pay attention to what he orders. I just pour a ridiculous amount of sugar and creamer into my coffee until I can tolerate drinking it.

“That’s hardly coffee,” Adrian grumbles.

I look up at him, then realize he’s in a very soft, worn T-shirt. Pushing back from the table, I look under it and find him in pajama pants. I blink at him a few times, then blush. “I woke you up.”

“Yes,” he sighs.

“You didn’t have to answer.”

“Yes, I did,” he says, pouring coffee in a mug of his own. “Whenever you call, I’ll answer.”

“That’s stupid,” I mutter.

He shakes his head and takes a sip of his coffee. “Keep drinking.”

I drink two mugs of coffee until I feel like I’m shaking with the mix of alcohol and caffeine. Just when I’m about to burst and ask Adrian every question I can think of, waffles appear in front of me.

I glance up at Adrian and he smiles softly. “You told me you prefer waffles to pancakes.”

“Why would you remember that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Felt important.”

I glimpse at the sun on his bicep, peeking out from under his sleeve. “Still believe every day is a new opportunity?”

“Yes,” he says calmly. “I’m thinking about getting another one.”

“One you like or one that has meaning?”

“Both,” he answers softly. “An origami rabbit.”

I almost spit out my bite of waffle. I cough a few times, but Adrian just watches me. I don’t like the insinuation. But I wasn’t making rabbits. I was making birds. It’s not the same. It’s fine.

“I like the Chinese plate style—the Blue willow—with the blue and white. I was thinking of doing that as the paper with the folds done in gold,” he mumbles. “Maybe I’ll simplify and do a teacup repaired with gold and have the origami with it on a plate or something.”

“Why both?”

“Fixing broken things makes them stronger and more beautiful. I don’t know how well my skin will take the blue. We’ll have to see,” he says gently.

“And the origami?” I ask.

He takes another drink of coffee. “How does your knee feel?”

“I’m clumsy when drunk. It’s fine.”

“It could have been worse, Emily. I don’t like you drinking this much. It’s not my business—you’ll say that—but you have so much to offer and I don’t want you getting hurt,” he murmurs.

I gulp as he sighs and continues.

“Whether you’re with me or not, I prefer you in one piece. I don’t want you seeing how bad the world can be, and your being drunk and wild can appeal to the wrong kind of people,” he says and nods once. “I said it. I won’t lecture you.”

“Being drunk and wild also brought me to you once,” I whisper.

“Are you trying to recreate that… already?”

“No. I was trying to…” I shake my head. “Why’d you cancel class? You looked like shit on Monday, by the way.”

“So did you.”

We look at one another and Adrian finally cracks a small smile. “Oh, Kit–Emily… what am I going to do with you?”

“Ignore me. Should be easy. Plenty of people do,” I comment.

“I’m not plenty of people.”

“I know you’re not, Sir,” I say.

The second I say the word, my eyes drop to my plate. Adrian takes a slow breath even though his foot brushes mine. “Tone it down.”

“Are you saying that to me or you?” I ask.

“Don’t be a brat. I’m exhausted, you look amazing, and I’m trying very hard to ignore everything but taking care of you,” he grits.

“I told you not to be gentle.”

“I told you not to call me ‘Sir’,” he says.

We stare at one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. But the only move Adrian makes is to pay for my meal—since he ate nothing—get me to his car, then drop me off at my dorm.

I glance back as I open the door to the building and still see him there.

Not fucking a professor is a stupid rule, I decide it as I get inside, feeling sober, full, and tired. I’m twice as distracted by him now that I can’t touch him as I was when I thought we could get away with it.

“Fucking torture,” I grumble.