Sweet Little Nothing

“Um.” I honestly don’t know how to reply. I’m still a little drunk and a lot embarrassed and kind of feel like maybe I’m dreaming.

“Fuck! That was a stupid question.” He pulls me back against his chest. I get the strangest feeling that he needs the comfort just as much as I do.

How bizarre.

“I’m so sorry, Emmy.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Not directly, but I still feel like I failed you. We all failed you.”

“It’s...” I can’t seem to get my thoughts to connect. “You didn’t...”

“I’m going to make up for it.”

“What?”

“Just trust me, baby. I’m going to fix this. He was my best friend. I should have known something was off. My dad is the reason he got off scot-free. I’m. Going. To. Fix. This.”

I honestly don’t know what to make of him right now. It’s like a switch has flipped. My bully is now my champion. What a weird night.

“If you say so, Sterling.” I’m honestly too exhausted to argue with him over it.

“I do.” He speaks those two words in such a way, they weave themselves around my heart like a vow.

“Do you want me to go home?” I ask, pulling away from him.

“I was hoping you’d stay. Here. Tonight.”

I want so badly to say yes, but fear keeps me from doing so.

“Please. I just... I’ll sleep on the couch if you want.” He once again directs my gaze to his. “It’s just that what you said fucked me up and I... I’d feel better knowing you were here. Knowing you were safe. But I’m not going to take your choice away. If you want to go home, I’ll take you.”

It’s like his mouth has a direct line to my reasoning abilities, because suddenly, I find myself nodding. “Okay, Sterling, I’ll stay.”

He places me on the cushion beside him, as if I weigh nothing, before standing. “Let me get you something to sleep in.”

The entire time he’s gone, I rethink my decision to stay. At this point, the only thing keeping me here is the fact that I have no way home and the utter sense of calm I felt with his arms wrapped around me.

It’s a slippery slope I’m walking along, and like the foolish girl I am, I make no move to seek solid ground.

“I hope this’ll do,” Sterling mumbles as he steps back into the living room, clutching a shirt in his outstretched hand.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I take the garment from him. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“You can use mine. It’s the door at the end of the hall.”

“Thanks.” I slide off of the couch and slink past him, feeling oddly excited to see his space. I stumble over my feet a little before gaining surer footing.

His room, much like him, exudes a sense of strong masculinity. The walls are a pale gray, save for the back one, which is a black shiplap. His massive bed is centered on the accent wall, with a warm walnut headboard, topped with a duvet fluffy enough to rival a cloud.

The room smells like him, too. So much so, that my head swims as I try to breathe through my mouth, if only not to drown in his scent.

I rush into the bathroom, and unsurprisingly, it’s every bit as high-end as the rest of his place. All smooth lines, brushed chrome, and marble, it’s a space fit for a king.

The walk-in shower calls to me, with its multiple showerheads, but the thought of being naked in Sterling’s space sends a tendril of fear through me. Not because I think he’d hurt me, not anymore at least. It’s just...something about it makes me feel unsettled.

I kick off my boots and peel off my socks before ditching both of my tops and jeans. I waffle on my bra, ultimately deciding to keep it on. It may not be comfortable to sleep in, but it’s an added layer of protection and modesty, both of which I’m willing to suffer a little for.

The shirt fits well enough, with the hemline falling just past mid-thigh. The real issue though, is it smells like him. If I thought being in his room was bad, it has nothing on this. Every single thread is permeated with his all-male scent, as if it’s woven into the very fibers.

I make quick work of folding my clothes then rejoin Sterling in the living room.

Heat flares to life in his gray eyes when he sees me. “Jesus. You look...” He rubs a hand over his face, shakes his head, and then returns his attention to me. “You can set your clothes on the bar if you want.”

“Thanks.” My eyes drop to my bare toes. I can’t help but feel self-conscious. And him leaving me hanging certainly isn’t helping. “So, what now?”

“Want to watch a movie?”

“Okay.”

“C’mon.” He starts leading me back toward his bedroom, and immediately my hackles rise.