You’ll Never Have Me (Never 3)

“Why the floor?” He groans as he drags his hand down his face, his hair is mussed and there’s hundreds of lines zigzagging through the whites of his eyes.

“Let’s get you up,” I slip my arms around his back as I bend at the knees, how am I supposed to lift him?

I feel like a china doll compared to him, and he’s not exactly helping me much.

“Help me or stay on the floor,” I say severely and although he’s half arsing it, we somehow get him upright.

“Come on you big lug,” I say tiredly as I wrap his arm over my shoulders and I place mine around his back.

Climbing stairs has never felt so laborious before and I’m surprised he hasn’t tumbled over the banister yet.

His footsteps echo across the wooden floor of the landing as I lead him to my room, he can sleep in here tonight. It’s the closest room and I don’t think I can support his weight much longer. My arms are starting to tremble and sweat is beading on my brow as I get him to my bed and he falls backwards, star fishing it.

I start working on the button on his jeans as he lets out a throaty moan, I pause for a second watching him until he quietens down. My cheeks are probably brighter than a tomato right now.

I get the button unclasped and start pulling his jeans free, I wonder if this is what it’s like trying to put clothes on a lion or something. I can’t imagine it would've been much harder, why can’t he help me?

“If you wanted to take my clothes off, you only had to say,” he says as his laughter takes over again and I roll my eyes while my lips are pursed, summing up my feelings on his joke perfectly.

I free him and I’m done, my good deed is well and truly accomplished. Although maybe I should get him onto his side, just to make sure he’ll be okay.

I grab onto his shoulder and start tugging him, but he comes easier than I expected and I nearly crash into the wall. His sudden grip on my arm is the only thing stopping it from happening.

Our eyes meet, his are clouded over undoubtedly with his inebriation but he isn’t letting go. He pulls and I fall down next to him, closer than I expected with only mere inches between us.

“Henleigh,” he breathes, but his breath is so strong I’m worried I may get drunk through osmosis.

“Get some sleep tough guy, you’ll feel better in the morning,” I say as I brush away the hair that is clinging to his forehead.

“No, I won’t,” he grumbles before moaning and I can feel it vibrating through his chest.

“And why’s that?” I ask softly, I’m not taking much stock in his words considering the state he’s in.

“It’s all pretend,” it’s slurring out, but it may as well be a riddle with no known answer.

“Okay tough guy, I’m sure it’ll stop being pretend soon,” I say hesitantly as I sit back up, but he pulls me back down.

“Stay,” it’s all he says as he burrows his head into my neck and his arms become a prison.

His breath stirs across my skin as his breathing evens out and he falls asleep, it’s all pretend. I wonder what he means.

I wake up and feel as though the roof must have caved in with as much weight Harrison is putting on me. I slap him on the back and he just moans and snuggles his head in closer.

“Tough guy, can’t breathe,” I say, and he slowly lifts his eyes to look at me.

He smiles for a split second before his eyes open wide and he bolts up and away from me. He’s pulling at his hair and I can see strands of it clinging to his fingers as he groans and calls himself an idiot.

“You’re fine, you got wasted and I brought you up here. Don’t worry, you didn’t say or do anything embarrassing,” it’s supposed to be reassuring but I do not think it’s working.

“What did I say?” his tone is harsh, but he keeps placing his hand over his mouth and clutching his stomach.

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nbsp; “You poor thing, let me get you some paracetamol,” I say sweetly while patting him on the back.

It’s like there’s an angry dog in my room with the noise he’s making at me. “Woman, tell me,” he says but his eyes are apprehensive, there’s something he’s hoping he didn’t say, and I really want to know what that is.

It takes him ten minutes to make it down the stairs and I have a glass of water, some painkillers and some toast waiting for him. Guess I can be nice.