We both laughed.
“Thank you for fulfilling this fantasy of mine. Getting to walk down the street with a lovely lady on my back.”
“Happy to oblige,” I said. He walked easily, didn’t seem to be that burdened by the fact that he was carrying me like this. When was the last time anyone had given me a piggyback? I honestly couldn’t remember.
“Well, thanks,” I said when we got to the doorstep and I hopped down. I looked around. “I don’t see my stalker. I have a stalker, you know.”
“Do you, now? I don’t see anyone out here.”
“I guess he’s not here at the moment. But he hangs around sometimes. He hasn’t done anything bad yet, but it’s still creepy.”
“I’m not entirely surprised though, a girl like you. I could take care of it for you, if you wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know. That could mean several things. But I certainly don’t want someone following you around when you don’t want them to be following you around.” He chuckled. “But wait a second—don’t you work for a security company? Isn’t this something your boss should be taking care of?”
“I can actually take care of myself.”
“I don’t doubt that.”
“Well, thank you for walking me home.”
“Anytime. Thanks for hanging out with me. I’ve really enjoyed these times that we’ve run into each other.”
“Me too,” I said. I could feel a gigantic yawn getting ready to stretch across my face. I was suddenly exhausted and wanted nothing more than to be crawling into my bed, about to fall asleep for ten, maybe eleven hours. I covered my mouth with my hand as though that might somehow keep the yawn at bay. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It just hit me all of a sudden, how tired I am. I really don’t usually drink that much beer.”
“Kind of a lightweight?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then I will bid you adieu and sweet dreams. We’ll have to plan on doing something at some point, okay? But after you get some rest first.”
I smiled and unlocked the door. “Yeah sure,” I said, waving goodbye, “That sounds nice.” I was barely able to kick my shoes off and make it to my bed before I fell on top of the covers, sound asleep before my head even hit the pillow.
I woke up the next morning with an awful taste in my mouth and a pounding headache. I was still wearing the same clothes that I’d worn the day before. The bright sun streaming through the windows hurt my eyes and told me that it was pretty late in the morning, perhaps already afternoon.
I pushed myself up and stumbled into the bathroom where I drank water directly from the faucet. That made me feel a little better, but when I straightened up, I caught sight of myself in the mirror. My hair was plastered down on one side of my head and sticking up all harried and crazy on the other side. There was an indent across the side of my face where I must’ve been sleeping on the seam of the comforter.
The doorbell rang.
I jumped, startled. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and went over to the intercom.
“Who is it?” I said.
“It’s Ian.”
Shit. “Um . . . hold on one second.”
I tried to smooth my hair down and straighten my clothes out, which had twisted around me as I slept last night. Why was he here? My head throbbed as I found a pair of flip flops and slipped them on so I could go out and let him in.
I squinted against the harsh light that came pouring in behind him when I opened the door.
“Hey,” he said. “Am I . . . waking you up?”
“I slept in,” I said. “So, yeah. I should be getting up now anyway, though. What time is it?”
“It’s ten till one.”