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18 - Hitting The Fan

What the bloody hell?

I put my hands on Jake's chest with the intention of pushing him off me but he seemed to take it as a sign that I returned his - whatever this was - and drew me closer, his lips pushing more forcefully against mine. I gasped and his tongue slid into my mouth, curling around my own and shocking the bejeebers out of me. I was held tight so I wriggled, struggling to get some leverage to push at him; he only moaned into my mouth and cupped my head with one hand, his fingers tangling in my hair.

Shit!

Unable to free my head or hands, I took the only other option left to me; I took a small step back, balancing the weight of my right foot on my toes, pushed off as hard as I could and brought my knee up forcefully into his groin. The effect was instantaneous and exactly what I was after.

Jake recoiled, groaning in agony and cupping his privates as he sunk slowly to the floor and writhed around. I gasped for breath, panting and wiping the back of my hand across my mouth as if that would eradicate the taste of him.

"What the fuck Cara!"

"Don't you dare what the fuck me, Jake Anderson! What the hell do you think you were doing, kissing me like that? Are you so drunk you thought you could just...just paw me?" I was now completely sober and getting angrier by the second. "What were you thinking? If you even were thinking, which I hope to God you weren't so I can at least make that an excuse for your behaviour." I took my glasses off to wipe them; they were almost completely fogged up.

The look of agony was slowly fading from Jake's face and he moved as if to get up off the floor. "I'd stay down there if I were you," I warned him, "I'm angry enough to knee you again, you stupid jerk." He wisely chose to stay put. "Shit Jake, you're like a brother to me, what on earth possessed you to -"

"I love you."

I blinked, stunned, sure I hadn't heard his mumbling correctly. "What?"

He looked up at me. "I'm in love with you Cara, I have been for a while now."

"No you're not...you can't...you've never..." What? No, this is not happening. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying."

"I'm not that drunk and I do know what I'm saying. I love you."

"Jake, I...oh shit." I sunk to the floor in front of him.

"Yeah." His mouth twisted in a wry grimace. We sat in silence for a while then I got up and got some ice from my freezer, wrapping it in a tea towel and giving it to him. He placed it over his groin and I sat back down on the floor.

"Jake..." I said softly.

"I know," he hung his head, "You're with him."

"Even if I weren't...Jake, I love you, but not like that." He nodded but wouldn't meet my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," he said again, but this time there was a mournful, melancholy note to his voice.

Oh bloody, bloody hell. Please don't let this affect our friendship or our working relationship. Please.

A few minutes later I thought he was looking a touch green around the gills so wasn't surprised when he suddenly got up and lurched towards the bathroom. I followed, holding his head as he brought up all the vodka, passing him a damp cloth to wipe his face afterwards and then getting him a large glass of water and some paracetamol. When he'd drunk all the water I fetched more, standing over him until he'd finished it all. "You'll thank me later," I told him. He just grunted.

By now it was almost three in the morning. I didn't want to sent him home to be on his own in this state but there was no way he could sleep comfortably on my couch; Jake was almost as tall as Ben but not as slender and while my couch was soft and comfortable, it was also only a two-seater.