Changing Roles

He landed like a felled tree on his bed, still mumbling and trying to act sober. I could tell he thought he was being sexy, but his leer looked more like he maybe had gas, rather than could be considered amorous when he teased me, his words slurred and rather broken. Much to my amusement, any filter he did have, which was never much, was gone, and he spoke all of his thoughts out loud.

He struggled to get undressed, and I helped him pull off his pants, grateful he hadn’t gone commando again. I tried not to laugh watching him attempt to yank his shirt over his head and failing miserably, finally giving up.

When he commanded that I come back so he could sniff me and show me he was the king of his jungle, I actually laughed out loud.

He looked so crestfallen; I bent down, kissed his cheek, and told him he would regret all this in the morning. “Good thing I love you,” I teased him.

“I love you, Shelby,” he mumbled, his eyes already closing.

“I know,” I whispered. “I love you too,” I added so softly, I knew he didn’t hear me.

“No.” His voice drifted off. “I…really…love—”

And he was out.

I tucked the covers around him and grabbed a bottle of water out of the small refrigerator in his bathroom, placing it on his nightstand in case he woke and needed it. I added some painkillers as well. He was going to need them. I’d make him one of my hangover brews for the morning—or more likely, the afternoon, given the shape he was in.

I stood looking at him, watching him sleep. He had already flung his arm over his face, stuck one bare leg out of the covers, and I knew he would start moving soon. Every morning when I made the bed, I was sure he’d fought dragons in his sleep from the state it was in.

His words ran through my head. “I love you, Shelby. I…really…love—”

I ran my fingers through his hair.

He didn’t mean it.

But a small part of me wished he did.

Because I’d realized earlier that I very well might be falling in love with him.10LiamBugger. Who turned on the floodlights?

I slammed my eyes shut and buried my head into my pillow. Bloody hell, that hurt. When had Shelby changed my plump pillow for a concrete slab?

Cautiously, I lifted my head, groaning as I looked around.

I was in agony. Every part of me hurt.

My gaze fell to my nightstand and I sighed in relief. Sitting there was a bottle of water, Tylenol, and a thermal mug of what I hoped contained Shelby’s special hangover remedy.

Tasted like ass, but it worked.

She rarely broke it out, as I hadn’t been drunk that often since she’d been with me, but I needed it now. I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a hangover this bad before today.

Bravely, I drank the evil concoction, took the pills, and gulped down the water before stumbling into the shower. I let the hot water pour over me, working its magic on loosening my stiff muscles, easing the aches, and removing the stale liquor smell. I felt the painkillers and Shelby’s magic elixir doing their job, and when I stepped out of the shower, I felt marginally better.

I decided to forego shaving, though.

My hands weren’t exactly steady, and I didn’t want to bleed to death.

I walked into the kitchen, expecting to find Shelby and hear all about what a wanker I had been last night, only to be greeted by an empty room.

No music playing indicating her mood, no computer on, no Shelby.

My already-upset stomach tightened further. I didn’t remember much, but I had a fairly clear recollection of what happened when she came home. It had drifted through my head on rewind my entire shower.

I woke at my desk to tender fingers trailing along the back of my neck, the sweetest voice in the world whispering my name. “Liam?”

I smiled at the sound of her voice. She was here.

“Shelby. You came home. That’s good.”

My voice sounded rather…slurry. I wasn’t sure why.

“Of course I came home.”

“Our home,” I mumbled. “Here. With me.”

She hummed as she tugged on my arm. “Yes, Liam. Now, you need to move.”

I moaned, trying to lift my head. Crap, it hurt. Finally, I got it off my chest, only to have it hit the back of my chair with a dull thud. “Bugger.” The bottle I’d been holding slipped from my grasp and fell to the floor.

Shelby’s voice turned from soft to horrified. “Liam! How much have you had to drink?”

I gingerly lifted an eyelid and met her frantic glare. I let the eye shut quickly.

It was safer that way. No eye contact.

I attempted nonchalance as I tried to remember. I believed it might have been a lot. The pounding in my head wasn’t helping my ability to recollect anything.