Over the Edge

Ch.25-Bound to Happen Eventually

~Emmalyn~

I woke up with rays of sun piercing my eyes. I yawned, stretching my hands over my head.

And then I froze.

Why was I still wearing my clothes from last night? And where the hell was I? This certainly was not my bed!

Before any panic could take hold I forced myself to calm down and think. What happened? I remembered dancing with Rhys—that had a smile tweaking my lips—and then we left and . . .

Right.

But that meant I had spent the night . . . And never gone home.

I whipped the blanket I didn’t remember being there off of me and stumbled out of the room, sure I must have looked a mess. My blouse was hanging off my shoulder and my hair was wild. My gaze darted around the small building, in search of somebody in particular.

“Rhys!” I hissed, not sure why I was keeping my voice so low. He was sprawled over a couch, snoring softly.

I sighed. Seeing as he was my ride home and I had no idea where I was, I couldn’t just sneak out. I approached him, admiring his tattoo, if not the rest of his torso. Did the boy always have to take off his shirt?

“Hey,” I snapped, kicking his leg dangling off the end of the couch. “Wake up.”

He didn’t stir.

“Are you freaking kidding me right now?” I mumbled to myself in disbelief. I noticed little paint smears over his skin, too. I frowned. Had he been up painting? The image of him huddled over his easel was absolutely adorable.

I decided I would go in search of some ice cold liquid of some sort to pour all over his face, knowing that would be a fool-proof plan of waking him up. But the universe, as it turned out, had other plans. As I was walking away my foot caught on the carpet and I executed a rather impressive tumble backward, arms wind-milling and everything.

Looked like Rhys would get a surprising wake-up call after all.

I landed on his stomach, eliciting a painful “Oof” from him as air rushed out of his lungs. I remained still, staring at the ceiling, not quite believe that had actually happened.

“What the hell are you doing?” he questioned, voice rough with sleep. I could admit that was sexy, right? There was no harm in that?

“You didn’t wake me up,” I stated, carefully turning myself around so I was lying on top of him but looking in his face. It wasn’t the position we should have been in, decidedly too intimate, but I found I couldn’t move. “You let me sleep here.”

“Yep.”

I frowned. “Why would you do that?”

“You were tired.”

I rubbed a smudge of brown paint off his cheek with my thumb. “My mom is going to kill me. Now I’ll have to come back and haunt your kitchen cabinets for the rest of your natural life.”

He arched an eyebrow in amusement. “That is definitely a frightening thought.”

“That was the point.” I crawled off of him before any more dangerous feelings could sweep over me. I wasn’t sure what had gotten into me the last few days but I needed to be well aware of our boundaries. “Take me home.”

He plucked his shirt off the ground and pulled it over his head, much to my irrational disappointment. “Yeah, yeah, just get your shoes on.”

I smiled in victory and did so lightning fast. What took us so long to get out the door was his slow-moving ass. When I finally got him in the car at least twenty minutes had gone by.