Chapter 45 You're Drunk, Carry You To Your Room
Sarah
With these words, he had me stumped. Perhaps he was right. Relaxing wouldn't hurt. I won't drink much, just half a glass. Just to be polite. We've kind of started getting along, so I won't ruin the moment.
We're trying the food. Home-cooked food is pure delight for me! The chicken was fantastic. I devoured every last crumb and was surprised when I looked up to see that his plate was already empty. I blinked in confusion. Did he throw it all away?
"It was damn delicious! You were right! I've tried every cuisine in the world, but I've never had anything this delicious!" He appreciated.
Damn it!
Is he flattering me?
Even if he lied, I still feel good. I modestly looked down, blushed, and smiled.
He didn't throw anything away, but he ate it. In that moment, I suddenly felt needed. It's nice to be praised for your accomplishments. It's nice that a man liked my food.
While he was fiddling with the corkscrew, I got up from the table and perched my feet on the windowsill. Less than a minute later, the man poured the drink into glasses and thoughtfully handed them to me, clinking them first.
"You even have glasses?" I asked, surprised, taking my first sip.
"Yeah, imagine that. A friend gave me a set, and by pure chance, I left it here." He replied.
"I see," I said, taking a second sip, better appreciating the taste of the elite drink.
"How do you like it?" he asked.
"Divine, I've never tasted anything close. You were right. A drink of the gods..." I took a sip, and literally from the first drop, I floated like a boat on a turbulent current. And with the second sip, my tongue began to slur.
Fucking asshole smiled contentedly. He took a chair, turned it so its back was facing me, spread his legs, and straddled it, never taking his eyes off me. He looks at me intently, too intently and carefully, which makes me feel a little uneasy. My skin breaks out in goosebumps everywhere.
"Tell me about yourself," he demanded unexpectedly.
I don't like these kinds of conversations, simply because I don't want to delve into the past, stirring up pain. I dream of living in the future, of a day when my life will be problem-free.
But more than anything, I dream of starting a family. Of marrying a good man and creating a big, happy family. The kind I, unfortunately, never had.
"Tell me what? Hmmm, I doubt you'll be interested, honestly..." I said.
"Do you know your dad, White?" he asked.
I took a few more sips. Only thanks to the wine did I continue this difficult conversation.
"I don’t know about him," I replied.
"Oh, really? You never even tried to find out?"
"No," I shook my head. I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapped my arms around my legs, and stared into space. It's starting to hurt.
"I will help you in your matters with Whites," he warns.
“I don’t care,” I say, nervously taking a few more sips, numbing the pain.
We got so caught up in our conversation that I didn’t even notice how I’d drained the entire glass, and I didn’t even notice when he poured me another. The wine really is delicious; it melts on your tongue. Afterward, you feel light, free, and good. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Or rather, never.
“Do you like sitting like this?” he pointed out my sitting style.
“Yes. It’s comfortable… I always imagine someone hugging me. My mother, for example. It’s a habit I’ve had since childhood. I dreamed that one day my mom would come back for me. I waited for her on the windowsill, looking at the decrepit gate of the White’s mansion… But she never came. Then I got tired of waiting.”
"Oh, really?" the man frowned, his eyes darkening. They turned from dark blue to onyx.
"Sorry, I'm talking too much, it's all that wine," I shook my head. "You don't need to pity me. I'm not a crybaby, I'm strong, just so you know."
"Come here." He ordered.
"You w-what? You..."
Without further discussion. He gets up from his chair, pushing it aside, confidently pulls me towards him, and hugs me tightly. I bury my nose in his fragrant chest and realize I'm about to give in completely.
I'll crumble like a wimp. God forbid I burst into tears on a man's strong shoulder. Actually, I'd like to... Just once, be a weak woman, supported and pitied by a strong man.
"Today I'll stay with you. Today you won't be alone," he whispered into my head. A warm breeze caressed my hair. I grew more drowsy, so much so that I couldn't even feel my body.
"No! I've had enough! No..." I twitch.
Shawn hugged me tighter.
"Calm down... You're too tired, you've had too much to drink. Time for bed." He politely said.
I rubbed my nose against his soft shirt, inhaling his scent. The scent of expensive perfume, power, wine, and a hint of tobacco. Such a sharp mix...
"Do you have something to sleep in?" he inquired.
"I have some clothes, but they're just for everyday wear..." I purred sleepily, enjoying the warmth of his exquisite body.
"I have something for you. I'll get it now," Shawn steps back.
I'm about to climb down from the windowsill, and I clumsily jump down. Staggering, I realize I'm falling! My legs feel like they've atrophied from the excess wine in my system. I'm flying toward the table.
If it weren't for Shawn, if it weren't for his excellent reflexes, I would have definitely smashed my forehead on the corner of the table. The man caught me in mid-air and greedily pressed me to his chest, letting out a hoarse laugh and stroking my head: "Oh, no more drinks for this table."
"Hush, hush, baby... Oh, you're drunk. You can't even stand up. Come on, I'll carry you to your room."