Page 5 of Guarded Love

"Of course," he says, but his hand doesn't leave my back.

We make our way through the crowded living room, pass the solo cup collector (who's now up to at least thirty cups), and finally reach the front door. The cool night air hits my face, and I couldn’t be more grateful to be out of that house.

"I needed this," I say just before taking a deep breath of the cool air. The cold helps clear my head, but the world still feels like it's gently rocking beneath my feet.

"Better?" Blaise asks, his hand still resting lightly on my back.

"Much." I step away from his touch, determined to prove I can stand on my own. The sidewalk tilts a bit, but I manage to stay upright. "See? Perfectly fine."

Blaise gives me a skeptical look. "Right. You're the picture of sobriety."

"I didn't say I was sober. I said I was fine." I toss my dark hair over my shoulder, a move that nearly throws me off balance again. "There's a difference."

"Semantics," he mutters, but stays close as we begin walking. He pulls out his phone and begins typing away.

When it seems like he’s taking an unusually long time, I finally ask the question that has been sitting on the tip of my tongue. “Are you telling my brother about this?!”

"No," Blaise says quickly, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Just texting Wilder to let him know I left, and I ordered some food. Though maybe I should tell Knox his sister is drunk and stumbling around campus at night..."

"Don't you dare," I warn, jabbing a finger at his chest. I’m proud of myself for not tripping over my own two feet and proving his point.

"I'm kidding," Blaise says, holding up his hands in surrender. "Your drunken adventures are safe with me. Besides, Knox would kill me for letting you get like this in the first place."

"You didn't 'let' me do anything," I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest. "I'm a grown woman."

"A grown woman who can't walk in a straight line right now."

This time I roll my eyes, but I refrain from saying what I actually want to say because it would turn into us arguing until we get to wherever we are going. Speaking of which…. “Where are we going?”

“Back to my place.”

Shit.

2

WILLOW

Blaise unlocks the dorm room door, and I follow him inside, trying not to feel weird about how quiet it is without Knox here. Or how weird it is to be here period without my brother around.

"I'll grab us some water," Blaise says.

I swear his voice nearly echoes in this small room, and I follow him with my eyes as he walks over to the mini-fridge. I stand awkwardly in the center, taking in the familiar-yet-unfamiliar space. I've been here dozens of times, but always with Knox as a buffer. Without him, everything feels different and I can’t quite describe how. The space is divided neatly in half and you can clearly see where the division lies. Knox's side is much messier, including the way he’s hung his hockey posters on the way. Blaise's side is meticulously organized with his bed made and his hockey gear put away.

Even his desk is organized to perfection with his color-coded notebooks stacked perfectly, laptop closed and centered, not a stray pen in sight. It’s actually quite comical how different he is from Knox in this area, let alone me. I would argue that both Knox and I rebelled a bit when we went to college in terms ofhow neat we needed to be because of the rules we followed at home. While my room could be a little messy, it wasn’t like I didn’t know where everything was. Unless I just forgot, which happened more often than I would care to admit.

I sway slightly, still feeling the alcohol, and decide sitting is probably wise. I perch on the edge of Knox's unmade bed, thinking it's safer territory.

"Here," Blaise says, returning with two bottles of water. He hands me one and sits on his own bed, facing me. "Drink this. All of it."

I accept the bottle with a mock salute. "Yes, sir."

He watches me take a long sip, his eyes never leaving my face. The intensity makes me fidget, but I can’t look away. Having him study my every move has me freaking out on the inside, but the alcohol running through my veins helps me to mask it.

"What?" I finally ask, lowering the bottle.

"Nothing," he says, then seems to reconsider before he speaks again. "Just making sure you're okay."

"I'm fine," I say automatically, then add more honestly, "Just... dizzy. And hungry."