Shutout (Rules of the Game, #2)(35)
Slowing to a stop at a red light, I glance at her again. “What happened earlier today, Ser?”
Seraphina doesn’t look at me. “Like I said, I was having a bad day.”
I don’t want to upset her, so I drop it.
She leans against the window and falls quiet for a few seconds. “Question twenty-one: Have you ever done any drugs?”
“I’ve done lots of things,” I say, giving her a pass for misnumbering the question; we’re up to twenty-two now. “But not anymore.”
Much to my relief, the house is completely dark when I pull up. Hanging out upstairs obviously isn’t an option, so I shuttle Seraphina into my bedroom as soon as we get inside. I’m not sure what my longer-term plan is for tonight, but I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I’m in triage mode.
Steering Seraphina across the room to my bed, I hang her coat on my computer chair and light the desk lamp on the way by. She perches on the edge of my mattress, still wearing her gold heels. Sympathy washes over me. Something tells me she doesn’t have the coordination to undo the tiny buckles holding the straps together.
“Let me get your shoes off, Tink.”
She nods wordlessly and leans back, bracing her palms behind her on the bed. I kneel on the carpet in front of her, and when I glance up, she’s watching me intently. Soft brown eyes fix on me, full lips slightly parted. Even with me in a subservient position, she seems vulnerable; defenseless.
Making a point to be gentle, I take her left foot in my hand and prop it on my knee to hold it steady. Her foot is perfectly pedicured, her toenails painted light pink. Fuck, even her feet are pretty.
My fingertips brush her skin as I carefully unfasten the delicate clasp, and she draws in a soft breath, goosebumps coasting down her bare legs. It’s hard to ignore how intimate this feels. It’s even harder knowing I can’t act on it.
“Are you sure no one will come downstairs?”
“No one ever does.” It’s an unspoken rule. The only exception is when we’re having a party and people are playing beer pong down here. Even then, I rarely allow it.
When I’m finished, I head for the closet to change. I tug off my jeans and T-shirt—which is still damp from her tears—and toss both in the hamper. Then I grab a pair of black athletic shorts and pull them on. Briefly, I debate whether I should put on a shirt too, but my bedroom runs stiflingly hot and I suspect Sera doesn’t care.
“Scale of one to ten,” she says, absentmindedly dragging her bare toes along the gray carpet. “Ten being the worst. How much of a mess do I look like right now?”
“Zero.”
A breathy laugh escapes her lips. “You’re sweet but you’re a liar.”
Her gaze shifts to my bedroom door, and her nose crinkles. She pushes to stand, still slightly off balance. “I need to wash my face. I feel icky.”
Taking Seraphina by the elbow, I help her to the bathroom. We both brush our teeth, then I wait outside while she finishes up before guiding her back to my room. Once I’m convinced she’ll be okay on her own for a minute, I jog upstairs to grab water for myself and a sports drink for her. Thankfully, the house is still otherwise empty. Maybe Chase and Dallas will crash at the girls’ place tonight. That would make handling this so much easier.
Handing her the plastic bottle, I lower to sit next to her on my bed. “Drink this.”
“Why?” She looks at me, her brows knit together.
“Because both cannabis and alcohol are diuretics, which—” Catching myself, I stop before I launch into a science lecture I’m sure she has no interest in hearing, least of all right now. “Just drink some for me, Ser. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She unscrews the cap and takes a few sips before resealing it. Her phone lights up from where it’s charging on the nightstand next to us, and a text from Abby appears.
I snort. “How nice of her to finally check in.” The words slip out before I can censor myself. I can’t help it—I’m pissed at her and her snake of a brother.
“Ty.”
“She had no idea where you were, Tink,” I say, softening my tone. The last thing I want to do is pick a fight with her on top of everything else. “What if some creep had found you?”
“It’s not like I was passed out.”
“Abby didn’t know that.”
She presses her lips together and studies me for a beat, scrutinizing me like a puzzle she’s trying to fit together. The annoyance on her face gives way to amusement.
“You like me,” she says in a singsong voice.
Obviously. But what can I do about that? Sweet fuck all, that’s what.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Her mouth tugs into a grin. “Because you like me.”
“Yeah, Ser. I do.”
A door slams upstairs. Someone barges into the kitchen, stomping like a goddamn elephant. The TV switches on, volume up high, followed by a burst of female laughter. Shit. Dallas and Chase just got home, and they brought Shiv and Bailey with them.
“Shit!” Seraphina clamps a hand over her mouth, frantically scanning the room like she’s looking for an escape route. “What the hell am I supposed to do? I can’t see my brother like this.”
There’s a loud crash above us that sounds like a kitchen chair tipping over. Based on the racket they’re making, they’re probably too drunk to realize she’s higher than the International Space Station, but I understand her concern. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t want to face them, either.