Make Me (Editing)

twenty six

"Tyler?" I was shocked to see the man standing on the other side of the door, in the same outfit he'd been wearing at dinner, smelling strongly of liquor and a pungent cologne.

He was obviously drunk; his demeanour and expression made that much clear. It was also the only reason he'd be here standing at my door.

"Allyyy babyyy," he confirmed my theory with his uncontrolled slur. "Can I come innn?"

Considering his current level of consciousness, and not even wanting to know how he'd found his way here in the first place, I decided to do the responsible thing and let Tyler inside for a bit. There was no way I'd be letting him stay over, but kicking him out to roam the streets drunk was certainly not the most responsible move either.

"In you come," I moved to the side, letting him into my humble abode.

As he slid by me, his eyes trailed up and down my body, drawing my attention to the fact that I was still only in a shirt and panties. After directing him over to the couch, I grabbed a pair of shorts and slipped them on.

"You didn't have to dress up for me, babyyy," Tyler mumbled as I walked back into the room, making me laugh to myself at his drunken humour.

"Can I get you a drink?" I quickly changed the subject.

"Mmm," he hummed lightly. "Vodka."

"Okey dokey," I chuckled, pouring him a glass of water. Chances are he wouldn't even notice the difference. "Here you go."

He took a sip, smiling contently. Mission accomplished.

"So what are you doing here, Tyler?" I finally asked, taking a seat on the other end of the couch, distancing myself as much as was possible on the small piece of furniture.

"I'm seeing my babyyy," he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh, and where's she?" I asked jokingly, turning my head to search around the place.

"You're so funnyyy," he laughed rather dramatically, wincing a little as his sudden movement triggered the first signs of a hangover headache.

I went back into the bathroom and grabbed an Advil from the cabinet, handing it to Tyler just as he finished downing his rather large glass of water.

"I'll get you another one," I took the empty cup and filled it back up.

"Thanks," he smiled, taking the glass and swallowing down the medication.

For the next while as he let the tablet go down, we sat in a rather comfortable silence. I started scraping away at the quick of my fingernails, a nervous habit of mine, occasionally looking over at Tyler, who was staring blankly at the empty TV screen.

"I'm sorry," he broke the silence after a while, appearing to have sobered up a little, although definitely not entirely.

I didn't reply, not really knowing what I'd say anyway.

"I've been a shitty guy," he continued, making me smile to myself at his blunt admission.

"You have," I agreed. "You've been very shitty."

"But I don't want to be shitty," he turned to face me on the couch. "I want to be.. not-shitty."

"That would be good," I chuckled.

"I'm not used to being the guy who chases the girl," he continued on his mindless ramble. "I'm a shitty chaser."

I decided that replying at this point wasn't really going to help anyone. He was in his own little world anyway, and wasn't going to be stopped.