Office Date by Rachel Van Dyken

Author:Rachel Van Dyken [Van Dyken, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Van Dyken Enterprises INC
Published: 2022-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Ivy

I’ve never seen him so drunk in my entire life. It’s like he was just blindly taking tequila like it was water, and then to make matters worse, I had to help him into his apartment, which didn’t really work out as planned since he couldn’t find his damn key fob.

So here we are.

Him snoring on the couch in my apartment.

Me lying in my bed, wishing I could put a pillow over his head just so he stops snoring and a lot of moaning from his end. And not the good moaning, the whole, I’m gonna wake up soon and probably puke all over the carpet moaning.

I finally fall asleep around two in the morning, only to wake up an hour later to the sound of a toilet flushing and more moans.

“Sleeeep!” I yell.

“So sorry, was busy puking out my brains.” Comes right back. “Hey, the couch is super uncomfortable. Can I just crash with you?”

“You have an apartment!” I remind him.

“Too much energy.” And then my door’s getting opened, and Jack’s stumbling into my room and throwing himself onto the king-sized bed. “Hold me. I’m sad.”

“No!” I almost laugh. “You’re not sad; you’re just still drunk!”

“Whose idea was the shots?” he grumbles into his pillow. “Demon woman.”

I jerk the blankets away from him. “Clearly the drunk person’s.”

“I hate drunk persons.” He turns on his side. “I puked once, brushed my teeth, wait, was that your toothbrush—”

“Are you kidding right now?”

He laughs. “There was a spare in the bathroom, most likely from Dustin stockpiling these apartments and getting worried about being fired.”

“I’m sure that’s a daily concern where Max is concerned.” I take a deep breath and exhale. “Now, I need sleep. Which means if you’re going to just lay there breathing heavy, at least make yourself useful and attempt to even out the mattress.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You know.” I toss on my side, “Even out the mattress, where equal parties do their part in making sure that nobody just rolls into the middle.”

“The hell kind of mattresses have you been sleeping on?”

Single ones.

Ones without other people.

I stay silent. “Just… stop talking.”

“No, I’m genuinely concerned that you think this is a thing.”

“How are you so sober?”

“Water?” His answer. “No, but seriously, this whole mattress balance act, how does it even work if we’re having sex.”

“WE ARE NOT HAVING SEX.”

“IN THEORY!” he snaps. “I’m not stripping you naked right now, am I?”

Why does that make me want to say something snappy like, you should, or you wish, or I guess that’s not snappy; it’s just immature.

“Why are we yelling again?” I whisper.

He lowers his voice. “You started it.”

“Very mature.” I pound the pillow beneath my cheek and stare at him. Who looks that hot after getting drunk and puking? Life isn’t fair.

“Yes, I’ve been known to be addressed as an adult from time to time.” He leans in. I can smell his minty breath, and I hate that I’m tempted to kiss him.

Hello, he just vomited up half of Tijuana from that mouth.

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