His Rotten Apple

52 ~ Alcohol and Tears

Zailey's eyes widened. "D-Did you just call me-"

"Sneakers..." He leaned back, laughing, as he almost fell backwards.

"Hey! Careful!" She put an arm behind his back for support, pulling him closer to her.

    He held his breath, taking a closer look at her face. Her expression was a mystery, her eyes betraying simultaneous confusion and enchantment.

Silence fell around them.

    "God, help me... You're so beautiful," he said softly, eyes half-closed.

    "Mr. Davis... Sit down."

    "Okay," he plopped onto the seat.

"Good boy."

"I'm your good boy."

"Really now..."

He chuckled, "I bet you didn't know that."

    "I know that you should rest," Zailey said. "Drink some water."

    "What can I do to make you keep holding me. Do I have to be drunk all the time?!" He pouted. "I can do that."

    She sighed, "You can't. Just look at you. You're a mess."

    "You wanna know something?" He stuck out his arm and pointed at her.

    "Don't say anything," she dropped him on the couch.

    "Ow," he whimpered like an injured puppy. "I don't know what it is about you that keeps making me soft. No matter how many times I push you away-"

She held back the tears pooling in her eyes, "Stop."

"I keep wanting to see you... Your face... Your smile..."

"Mr. Davis..."

"But it's too late, I have no right," He said. "I made a mistake. I-"

    Zailey breathing slowed as she tried to stabilize herself from his words. She felt her speeding pulse and directed its energy to her hand. The last thing she remembered was bringing her hand back before feeling a strike against her palm as she slapped him.

    His eyes were closed, breathing steady... Did he not realize how much his words affected her?

    "Get a grip, Mr. Davis." Zailey said, hastily reaching for her phone. "I'll call you a cab."

    "Don't..." He looked at her with pleading eyes, voice cracking. "Don't send me away... I can't stand it... Not anymore."

    "Get up, please," she said, her eyes watering.

    She laid him down on the back seat of the taxi cab and told the driver his address.

    Connor looked up at her, "Sneakers... Please. I need you."

    Looking away, she closed the door, knowing full well she wouldn't have been able to send him off otherwise. She let the cab drive off, watching as Connor peeked from the back window of the car.

Once they reached a bit of a distance, Connor struggled to sit up, "Driver... I... Wanna change the address."

One. Two. Three. Four. Five... Mine. He repeatedly pressed on the doorbell.

    "Connor?" Kriss furrowed her eyebrows as she took in his drunken state. "What-"

    He cut her off, cupping her cheeks and pressing her against a wall. Her eyes widened in shock, trying to figure out the situation. He inched closer, lips almost touching hers.