say don't go - katie mccabe

Chapter 3

As we neared closer to the destination she had put into the navigation system, I noticed she slowly became shorter with her responses, and more yawns came out of her mouth than laughs. The drive had started with animated conversations and shared laughter, but as the night wore on, the weariness seemed to settle in. By the time I had parked the car outside of her apartment, she was completely passed out on her seat. Her head hung loose on her shoulder, but her hand still remained lightly grasping my thigh. I thought to myself for a moment. Shit, what do I do?

My options, while not probably the best for her, seemed the most suitable given the situation.

"Hey Katie, we're here. Can you wake up?" I called out, my voice laced with concern.

"Katie?" I continued, growing more insistent.

"Ugh," she groaned, the weariness evident in her voice.

I tapped her lightly. No response.

I tapped her again, this time with a little more force. No response again.

"Katie," I yelled harshly, slapping her shoulder.

"Shhh," she whispered quietly, attempting to ward off my persistent attempts.

"Katie, we're here," I reiterated, hoping to break through the haze of her drowsiness.

She groaned loudly, lifting her head off her shoulder and opening her eyes slowly.

"If you weren't so pretty, I would yell at you for slapping me," she slurred with a half-smile, her attempt at humor mixed with drowsiness.

"Katie, you're drunk," I pointed out, a mixture of amusement and concern in my tone.

"And you look good in those jeans. Boop," she said, booping my nose with a tipsy grin.

"Okay, let's get you to bed," I suggested, realizing the urgency of the situation.

"Oooo, slow down, take me to dinner first, Stanway," she teased, her words laced with a playful tone.

"We're on last names now, huh, McCabe?" I retorted, trying to keep the mood light despite the circumstances.

"Stop it. You're making me blush," she said, shoving my shoulder slightly in her drunken state.

"I'm serious; you need to go to bed," I said, my tone firm.

"Ugh, fine," she conceded, unbuckling her seatbelt with a drowsy sigh.

I watched as she stumbled out of the car.

"Do you need help?" I asked, concerned about her wobbly steps.

"No, no, gorgeous, I'm o—" she began, only for her legs to give out underneath her.

"Yeah, right," I said, realizing she needed more assistance. I scooped her off the floor, her arm over my shoulder, and began almost dragging her inside.

"Where are your keys?" I asked as we reached her front door.

"Pot," she laughed at herself as she said it, her words tinged with a hint of intoxication.