Tank: Devil's Rose MC #6

Chapter 9: Octavius West

Hazel throws pouty eyes at me, blinking her lashes slowly as if that'll change my mind. It's not like I want to kidnap her. I just want her to have a safe place to sleep tonight. She even admitted that she didn't remember her address.

She can't stand on her own, doesn't even have a jacket in the cold weather (and yes, I did give her mine when she wasn't paying attention), and can't even speak properly. She needs a warm, safe, and comfortable place to sleep off the alcohol. A place she can wake up and not have breakfast already ready for her when her head is pounding.

It's been like ten minutes, and I'm still trying to explain to her that she coming to my apartment for the night. She keeps making the excuse that she has to go to work tomorrow because she has to get her classroom ready for Monday.

She's a teacher so she does have to go to work on a Saturday, but I think that's on her own time, so it shouldn't matter when she goes in. I'm not going to keep her locked up in my apartment for the whole day. Just enough time to know that she's okay driving herself home.

It shouldn't be this difficult to make sure that she's safe. What else would I do with her? She doesn't even remember where she lives.

"Tank, it's me, not you."

What the fuck is she talking about now?

"I know our relationship has barely begun, but I want to stop us now. I'm not ready to be your wife."

Huh? What is happening?

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm practicing our breakup. You know, for when we end our whole friendship dating thing."

I highly doubt she's going to want to break up with me after we get to know each other better. She's a strings-attached kind of woman, and I'm opposed to it. Actually, I'm far from opposed.

But she also doesn't seem like the woman to jump into a relationship after a day or two of knowing a guy, so this weird drunk arrangement I came up with in one minute sounded like an excellent idea to let her know what it would be like if she were dating me.

It's not the worst idea I've ever had. If she wants to break up with me, I'll be sad, but I will not hold her back from her happiness. If I end up not wanting to be in a relationship with her, then I'll just say that I'm done with the arrangement, no harm done. It's a good out for both of us.

"Come on, Hazel. You need to get to bed."

"My bed."

"And what's your address?"

"I told you! I don't know!" she yells, sticking her tongue out at me.

"Well, then, I'm done arguing with you."

Not wanting her to get sick, I don't throw her over my shoulder, instead, I tuck an arm under her knees and gently lay her in my arms. It'll be easier to set her on the motorcycle like this anyway. Bridal style, I carry her over to my bike, place her on the back, and put my helmet on her head.

It's way too large for her but it's better than nothing. I tighten the strap, getting it as secure as I possibly can, and carefully put my leg over the seat, watching that I don't accidentally kick her with my boot.

She instantly, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, wraps her arms around my waist, her chest slightly pressing into my back. My heart thuds in my chest and warmth gathers on my face.

Is this how it feels to like someone? Am I supposed to feel like I'm about to have a heart attack from her just touching me?

That's so not normal.

The full weight of her body falls onto my back as she leans way more forward than she needs to. The helmet presses into my upper spine and right shoulder blade, but I don't have the strength to tell her to move her body into an upright position.

It's honestly safer that she leans against me instead of sitting straight because with the amount of alcohol she's had in her body, I wouldn't be surprised if she started to tip over without extra support. That's fucking scary.

I'm so fucking grateful that my apartment isn't super far from the bar. I hear her squeal in my ear as I take off down the road, her arms squeezing tighter around my waist.

Getting her up to my apartment isn't as complicated as getting her on my bike in the first place. After our ride, I think she gave up on trying to argue. There was no way I was going to take her anywhere other than my apartment. She had no one else to go.

While I hate that this is the way she's seeing my home for the first time, that's not as important as giving her a good place to stay the night. It wasn't like I was going to force her to stay in a hotel.

The one thing I don't have a chance to argue about is getting her to sleep on the bed. The minute she saw the couch, she was out like a light. I would have moved her but she started snoring, and I figured she was comfortable enough.

I'll just say it was payback for making me stand in the cold while she argued with her if she asks about it. I don't think that's going to be her main priority tomorrow though. She's going to have a killer headache.

I feel bad for her, and it hasn't even happened yet. Maybe I should have stopped her drinking escapade sooner.

I leave her sleeping there, make the doors are locked, and then head into my bedroom for the night. I strip off my clothes, leaving myself in boxers. I try to fall asleep but my mind spins as I think about what I felt while she held me on the motorcycle.

Why did I enjoy it so fucking much? Is that how it's supposed to feel? I felt nauseous but amazing at the same time. It wasn't just my slight lack of sobriety either. I was perfectly fine to drive, so the alcohol isn't the issue. It's her. It's Hazel who is causing all of my confusion.

She shouldn't make me feel this way. What the fuck? It's all her goddamn fault. I was fine until she came around and fucked everything up. But like, I also wouldn't want anyone else to fuck my life up.

I stare out my bedroom window, looking out across the lights of the town to the darkness of the desert that surrounds Westmoor.

---

"Good morning, Hazel."

The only answer I get in return is a grunt. That sounds about right.

I got up around seven am, wanting to get ready for the day, but also have breakfast ready for Hazel when she woke up. And I'd been waiting for three hours until she eventually got up off the couch about ten minutes ago. She hasn't even spoken a full sentence yet.

Her red hair gathers at the top of her head like a rat's nest, her hazel eyes dull and exhausted. Mascara is smeared below her eyes, red lipstick on her cheeks instead of her lips, and even her eyebrows lack makeup. I wonder how much of it is stained on my couch.

She slurps her coffee into her mouth with her big hazel eyes staring up at me so beautifully. She is so fucking beautiful. I can barely stand it. I lick my lower lip and send her a small smile as I take a sip of my own coffee. She takes hers black. That's easy enough to remember.

"Can you talk to me now?" I whisper to her.

"What happened?" she speaks quietly back to me.

I'm taking that as a yes.

"Well, you couldn't remember where you lived, so I decided that you were to stay the night with me."

She nods her head understandingly, moving her gaze to my right to see my Scottish Fold cat, Garbage, coming around the corner with his stuffed mouse in his mouth. He instantly goes up to her, rubbing her legs with his tail and purring softly.

He definitely likes her. It's rare he does that with anyone besides me and especially when first meeting a person. She drops to the ground, and he plays and cuddles with her.