With Me In Seattle: Play With Me Part 2

"You are all starting to kill this really great buzz I've got going on."

"Sing!" Jules demands.

"I can barely talk. No singing. I haven't sung in a long time anyway."

"Okay, then let's dance." Jules stands, and then wobbles. Nate pulls her in his lap, laughing down at her.

"I think it's time I take you up to the room, baby." She cups his face in her hand and smiles up at him.

"Okay. Can I have some o.r.g.a.s.ms?"

"I think I can make that happen," he replies with a smirk.

"No fair!" Natalie exclaims. "I want o.r.g.a.s.ms!"

Dear G.o.d, did we always talk about o.r.g.a.s.ms when we were drunk in college?

"Then let's go up to our room too, I'll give you those o.r.g.a.s.ms." Luke kisses Nat's cheek and stands with her cradled in his arms.

Jesus, Luke Williams is in the same room with me, talking about o.r.g.a.s.ms.

This is crazy.

"I'm out too." I slam one last shot, grab for my purse and stand. The room spins a bit, but I brace myself on the back of a chair and take a deep breath.

"You're not driving are you?" Nate asks.

"I'll call a cab."

"I'll take you home." Will stands and is suddenly at my side, gripping my elbow.

"You drank too," I remind him.

"I had one beer. I'm fine."

Oh.

"Really?"

"I'm in the middle of a season, Meg, I can't drink much."

"What kind of season?" I ask as the room spins slowly around me. I'm vaguely aware of snickering happening around me but I'm too drunk to kick anyone's a.s.s.

"Football," he says gently and brushes my hair behind my ear.

"You want to play football?" I'm so confused. "I'm too drunk to play football."

Will laughs and shakes his head. "No, sweetheart, I will play football on Sunday. With my team. Remember?"

"Oh, yeah. You're a football star." I wave him off and turn toward my friends. "He's a big time football player. Did you know?"

Natalie giggles at me. "Meg, you're funny. I'm glad you're hanging out with us again."

"Dude, you got her?" Caleb asks.

"Yeah, I got her," Will confirms.

"Who you got?" I ask.

"You, drunk girl. Come on." He turns to lead me toward the exit, and I start to follow him, but for some reason my feet don't work very well.

"Um, Will?"

"Yeah?"

"I lost my feet."

"What?" he laughs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"I can't find my feet."

Why is everyone laughing at me? This is serious!

"Okay, I've got you." He lifts me effortlessly into his arms and cradles me against his chest.

"You don't have to carry me."

"If I want to get you in the car and take you home, I think I do."

"I thought you wanted to play football." I yawn and lean my head against his shoulder. Hmm... he still smells good.

"Not tonight."

"I think I'm drunk."

"What was your first clue?" he chuckles.

"Don't make me hurt you, Mungumry."

"Yeah, you scare me."

"What kind of car is this?" I ask.

"It's a Shelby."

"Is Shelby your girlfriend?" I ask, mortified. Holy s.h.i.t! I made out with a guy who has a girlfriend!

"No, this car is a Shelby Mustang, Megan."

"Oh. Then who is your girlfriend?"

"I don't have a girlfriend."

"Why not?"

"No time." He shrugs. "No one has interested me, until very recently." He mutters that last part, and before I can ask him what he means by that, he pulls up to my townhouse.

"Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome. Stay there."

I don't think I could get out of this car if I wanted to. It sits really low to the ground, but it's nice. The seat is comfortable.

Suddenly the pa.s.senger door is open and Will is leaning inside, pulling me out of the car. He gets me to stand, and then lifts me again.

"I could probably walk now."

"I doubt it. Just don't throw up on me, please."

Well, I didn't feel like throwing up until he said something. Now my stomach is rolling and I have that icky feeling in the back of my throat.

f.u.c.k!

"Where are your keys?" he asks.

"Handbag."

"Do you want me to get them?"

"Yes." Just breathe. Just breathe and you won't throw up.

"Okay, I'm going to stand you by the door. Just lean on the wall for a second."

Is he speaking English? I don't understand him, all I can concentrate on is not throwing up. He shuffles through my bag and produces my keys.

"This one." I point to the house key and he unlocks the door and scoops me up again, carrying me inside.

"You don't have an alarm system?" he asks with a frown.

"No."

"Why not?" he demands.

"Too expensive. f.u.c.k, put me down."

He lowers me to the floor and as soon as my feet hit the ground I sprint to the bathroom, and hurl about two bottles of tequila into the toilet.

It never tastes as good coming up as it did going down.

Oh, sweet Jesus, make it stop. My stomach convulses and shudders, and I feel a sweat break out on my skin.

Suddenly my hair is scooped back off my face and a cold cloth is pressed to the back of my neck.

f.u.c.k, I forgot he was here. How mortifying.

"You can go," I mumble and rest my forehead on my arm, still cradling the toilet.

"I'll stay." His voice is firm and maybe a little grim.

"I'm okay, Will."

"I'm not leaving you like this, so shut it." He gently lifts my head and presses another cold cloth to my forehead, making me moan in delight.

"That feels good."

"I know. Are you done throwing up?"

"I think so."

"Okay, let's get you in bed."

"Hey!" My head jerks up and I pin him with a glare. "You're not getting me into bed."

"Yeah, I am. Don't worry, sweetheart, no hanky panky." He grins and I groan as another wave of nausea hits. I'm suddenly bone-tired.

"Okay." I stand and he wraps an arm awkwardly around my waist. He's just too tall for his own good. "I'm fine, Will. The worst is over. You can go."

He glares down at me and wipes my face with the cool cloth. "I'll make sure you're asleep before I leave."

"Why? I haven't exactly been nice to you."

"Because I'm not an a.s.shole, and the sooner you realize that, the better."

I frown at him, not understanding him at all. He opens the drawers in my dresser, shuffling through clothes and socks, then turns to me with a scowl.

"Where are your pajamas?"

"I don't wear pajamas."

"So what do you wear to bed?" he asks and plants his hands on his hips.

"Nothing."

He closes his eyes and exhales deeply, then searches through my drawers again until he finds an old t-shirt and throws it at me. "Here, put this on."

"Why?"