\[Denali’s POV\]
I lay alone, staring at the alarm clock that ticks off each and every minute that passes, and Rosco doesn’t return. Sighing, I turn over, trying to will myself not to think too hard about it, but when I close my eyes, all I can see is the hurt on his face from what I said.
“Was I too harsh?” I whisper, my worry beginning to bubble. “No. He was the one who was harsh first. Accusing me of being in love with Alexander still,” I continue. “And if I was, why was that any of his business?”
Dammit, this was frustrating. What in the world was I even doing? I didn’t know Rosco, and I shouldn’t care how he feels or thinks. But he was the first person to show me an ounce of kindness, and for that, I was grateful.
“Get it together, Denali,” I huff, grabbing a pillow and pulling it against me. “Stop bothering with that bipolar man. He’s an adult, and he should be fine.”
Settling on this, I try to push away all my whirling thoughts so I can get some sleep, but just before I finally feel myself drifting, the door to the room bursts open and the scent of alcohol reaches my nose.
Shooting up, I brace myself while trying to figure out who it could possibly be before a very unstable Rosco comes forward and plops down on the bed.
“Hey!” I gasp, my eyes growing wide. “Are you okay?”
For a moment, he doesn’t speak before lifting his bleary gaze to mine.
“You’re worried about me?” He hiccups, slowly sitting up.
Worried? Not worried, just very caught off guard and wondering what the hell happened to him. Why was he so drunk?
“Can’t be,” he continues when I don’t speak. “I fucked up, and now you hate me.”
As he speaks, he gives me a look that screams remorse, but I don’t dare let myself think too much into it. The man was drunk and could be mixing things up. He had no reason to be sorry for his actions since we had no connection.
“I think you need to sober up a bit.”
Being cautious not to rattle Rosco too much, I begin to climb out of bed but stop as his arms shoot out and wrap around me.
“Don’t move,” he orders, pulling me closer. “Just stay here.”
Eyes widening, I look down at the man in front of me and find that a look of vulnerability is on his face.
“Just for a bit,” he continues, laying his head on my lap. “Til the world stops spinning.”
Remaining silent, I try to control my heart, which is starting to beat erratically due to Rosco’s close proximity. Was this man always like this when he was drunk? If he was, then what in the world was I going to do?
“A minute passed,” I say slowly, attempting to untangle us. “Now you should really..."
“No,” he grunts, tightening his hold. “It isn’t.”
“If you’re such a light weight, why did you even drink?” I counter. “You should really focus on eating something so you don’t feel like crap tomorrow.”
“If I do, will you take care of me?” He challenges, lifting his rueful gaze to mine. “If so, I don’t think I’ll mind.”
Letting out a huff, I feel a wave of relief rush through me over Rosco’s arrogant self returning. I had to admit that I liked him like this instead of being vulnerable. How was I supposed to stay angry with him otherwise?
“Could you be serious?” I sigh.
“I am,” he counters. “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
Swallowing, I try to ignore the sudden flutter I feel in my belly. Rosco was really acting weird today with his hot and cold act. Or maybe this was just how he was? He was flirtatious and overly familiar, then he turned into an arrogant asshole with no regard to anyone else.
"Then, please, could you release me?” I ask slowly. “You’re making me uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable how?” He asks, letting a slow smile spread across his face. “Is it in a good way or a bad way?”
Good or bad? What in the world did this man mean?
“Clearly in a bad way,” I say, beginning to try to get him off of me. “We aren’t close enough for you to be hanging on me like a monkey.”
“So if we were closer, allow this?” He challenges.
“No! You can only do this with someone you actually care about! Not some random stranger!”
“Right,” he huffs, finally releasing me. “We’ve got a while to go.”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.”
Letting out a long, boozy breath, Rosco sits up and then slowly stands while I try to make sense of his final words.
“I’m hungry,” he mutters, rubbing his stomach. “Will you cook for me?”
“Don’t you have cooks to do that?” I ask, raising a brow. “Why would you want a commoner to cook for you?”
“I want my wife to cook for me,” he points out, taking a step and then wobbling. “Plus, I’m drunk. Are you going to trust me to use the stove and make it down the steps alone?”
To prove his point, he takes another stumbling step while I watch.
“Alright,” I say, getting up and letting him use my shoulders for support. “But don’t ever get this drunk again.”
“Roger that,” he chuckles.
Rolling my eyes, I slowly help Rosco out of the room and then downstairs so I can deposit him in a chair in the kitchen while I begin to look for ingredients.
“Do you have any requests?” I ask, peeking in the fridge and taking in all the expensive items that rest in it. “I’m not an amazing cook, but I can make basic things.”
“Whatever it is you make, I’m sure it will be fine.”
Nodding, I pull out some bacon and eggs, then find bread.
“Breakfast for dinner, it is.”
Trying to ignore the burning gaze that is on me, I begin to work on making Rosco’s food. However, as I lower the bacon and the grease pops, I let out a hiss of pain due to some hitting my skin.
“Are you alright?”
Turning, I expect to find Rosco still in his seat, but he isn’t. Instead, he is directly behind me, and his dark eyes are filled with worry.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “And you’re standing too close. Go sit back down.”
As I speak, I turn him around and begin to lead him forward while he laughs, and when he sits, he gives me a look of amusement.
“Your expressions are cute, princess,” he chuckles.
“Uh, thanks,” I manage, before rushing back to the food I’m making before it burns. “But you’re just saying that because you’re drunk.”
“Nope,” he counters. “Sober or drunk, I still think they’re cute.”
Eyes widening, I drop the egg that I’m attempting to flip and bust the yolk.
“Dammit,” I grumble, feeling my cheeks flush. “Could you be serious?”
“I can,” Rosco responds, appearing behind me again. “Would you prefer that?”