“I’m not having sex with you, so quit asking,” he said, his back still turned to me.
“What? No!” I cried.
Travis laughed and turned, looking at me with a soft expression. “What, Pigeon?”
I sighed. “This,” I said, laying my head on his chest and stretching my arm across his middle, snuggling as close to him as I could.
He stiffened and held his hands up, as if he didn’t know how to react. “You are drunk.”
“I know,” I said, too intoxicated to be embarrassed.
He relaxed one hand against my back, and the other on my wet hair, and then pressed his lips to my forehead. “You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met.”
“It’s the least you can do after scaring off the only guy that approached me tonight.”
“You mean Ethan the rapist? Yeah, I owe you for that one.”
“Never mind,” I said, feeling the beginning of a rejection coming on.
He grabbed my arm and held it on his stomach to keep me from pulling away. “No, I’m serious. You need to be more careful. If I wasn’t there … I don’t even want to think about it. And now you expect me to apologize for running him off?”
“I don’t want you to apologize. It’s not even about that.”
“Then what’s it about?” he asked, searching my eyes for something. His face was just a few inches from mine, and I could feel his breath on my lips.
I frowned. “I’m drunk, Travis. It’s the only excuse I have.”
“You just want me to hold you until you fall asleep?”
I didn’t answer.
He shifted to look straight into my eyes. “I should say no to prove a point,” he said, his eyebrows pulling together. “But I would hate myself later if I said no and you never asked me again.”
I nestled my cheek against his chest, and he tightened his arms, sighing. “You don’t need an excuse, Pigeon. All you have to do is ask.”
· · ·
I cringed at the sunlight pouring through the window and the alarm blaring into my ear. Travis was still asleep, surrounding me with both his arms and his legs. I maneuvered an arm free to reach over and pound the snooze button. Wiping my face, I looked over at him, sleeping soundly two inches from my face.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, wondering how we’d managed to become so tangled. I took a deep breath and held it as I worked to free myself from his grip.
“Stop it, Pidge, I’m sleepin’,” he mumbled, squeezing me against him.
After several attempts, I finally slid from his grip and sat on the edge of the bed, looking back at his half-naked body draped in covers. I watched him for a moment and sighed. The lines were becoming blurred, and it was my fault.
His hand slid across the sheets and he touched my fingers. “What’s wrong, Pigeon?” he said, his eyes barely open.
“I’m going to get a glass of water, you want anything?” Travis shook his head and closed his eyes, his cheek flat against the mattress.
“Morning, Abby,” Shepley said from the recliner when I rounded the corner.
“Where’s Mare?”
“Still sleeping. What are you doing up so early?” he asked, looking at the clock.
“The alarm went off, but I always wake up early after I drink. It’s a curse.”
“Me, too,” he nodded.