Clay helps me lie down and sits on the edge of the bed again. I think he doesn't want to be here but is scared to leave me alone, and it cracks me up.

I roll to the other side of the bed. I'm about to say a prayer before I land on the hard floor again, but Clay catches my wrist at the last second. I rolled too far away, but he reacted quickly, so we're good.

Looking at him, I pat the freed-up space, hoping that he'll lie down. At first, he doesn't react, but I continue staring at him until he sighs and gives in. But he doesn't quite lie down, he's still alert and I can tell it by the way his back is partly leaned to the headboard.

I roll again. This time to the opposite direction - towards Clay. And then I quietly climb on him, resting my head on his chest and hugging his torso.

He doesn't hug me back.

"Are you mad at me?" I mumble, trying to move my head up to look at him. But I'm so tired that I almost go cross-eyed.

"Yeah," he answers.

If I were him, I'd lie. That made me sad.

"Why?" I rest my head back on his chest, giving up on the idea of looking at his face.

"Cause you're stupid."

I pout, "I know."

I wish I stayed horny. Now I'm miserable. I hope I don't cry like he did, that was kinda hard to deal with.

I try to roll away from him but I feel the heaviness of his arms around my body. He exhales, finally hugging me back.

It's ridiculous how quickly my eyes close and I almost drift to sleep. But there's this pain in my chest that forces me back awake. And this time it's not my heart, it's my fucking burnt cleavage.

"It hurts," I speak, my words muffled against his chest.

"The burn?" At least he gets me without further explanations.

"Yeah," I nod, "the upper inner corner of my right titty."

He chuckles softly at my words and I smile at the sound, "Don't lie on your stomach then."

Turning my body around is another struggle I have to face, but eventually, I get there with his help. Now I can throw my head back and rest it on his shoulder. From the way he's hugging my body just below my chest makes me think that either there are butterflies in my stomach or I'm about to throw up. Let's say I'm about to throw up.

Clay grabs the long-forgotten coffee mug and brings it close to my face. I can't believe he has enough patience to hold it for me to drink.

"It's not hot anymore," his voice is though.

I straighten my neck, whining at how heavy my head feels. And I hesitantly take a sip.

My whole face curls from the taste.

"It's so bitter," I complain. It's undrinkable.

"It's to help you sober up faster," he brings it close to my lips again but I look away, "c'mon, one more sip."

Every time I get drunk I just throw up and sleep. Nobody's ever taken care of me. And this is the most patient and tolerable anyone's ever been to me. I feel that weird thing in my stomach again, I think I'm about to throw up.

I take a big sip anyway, wondering how much coffee he added to this. Tastes like pure bitterness.

"It's so disgusting," I smack my mouth, rubbing my tongue against the roof of it to get rid of the taste.

"Coffee in general is disgusting," he chuckles.

"You haven't had the coffee I make," I brag, "I'll make it for you and you'll have no other choice than to tell me that you like it cause if you don't then it'll hurt my feelings-"

He brings the mug closer again and I ignore it, I wasn't done with my speech.

"-and then you'll be forced to drink it every time I drink coffee, cause I'll make it for both of us and you won't be able to decline my offer cause you said that you like it-"

He laughs softly and presses the mug to my lips making me shut up. I flinch away again.

There's no way I'm taking another sip.

"Last one," he promises, "or I won't try your coffee and won't feel forced to say that I like it to not hurt your feelings."

I take another sip.

There's barely anything left in the cup. I might as well gulp all of it down.

Once everything is done, I slouch back down and throw my head back on his shoulder. It feels so good after having to hold my head up for literal minutes. And when Clay wraps his arms back around me, I feel that thing again - the throwing up thing. And it's weirdly a pleasant feeling.

"I like your new shampoo," I can hear the smile in his voice. And it makes me smile as well.

But I forget to say thank you.

The new position makes me flutter my eyes open and move my head to look at him. I wanted to look at his face this whole time. Our bodies are laid perfectly for it.

What I don't expect is for him to look down at me as well. I giggle seeing that he has freckles. I'm not trusting my vision anymore though, it feels like his freckles are getting closer and closer to me the longer I look at them.

Or is it even my vision?

It's not, I repositioned my head on his shoulder and didn't even feel it. And he leaned closer too, I can feel his tickly breath on my skin. Our faces are so close that I feel like throwing up again.

I close my eyes cause it's a pain to keep them open, they lose focus the more I use them.

I can't describe the feeling, but I feel like I'm being pulled by a magnet. I lean closer to his face without even realizing that I am. That feeling inside my stomach is moving up to my heart-

Once my upper lip barely brushes against his bottom lip, Clay pulls away. I open my eyes at the loss of contact and momentarily close them again, feeling his lips press to my forehead.

My shoulders go up and my fingers curl at the feeling. It's like he placed hot sand on my forehead and now the grains are running down my whole body. I giggle and open my eyes, knowing that I'll find him smiling at my giggle.

I would long my head and try to kiss him again cause he looks so kissable, but there's no energy left in my body whatsoever. I close my eyes, feeling my breathing getting steadier.

I'm half asleep when I feel his arms tighten around me cause slowly they're becoming the only thing supporting my body. Feels like I'm liquefied in his arms.

"Isn't it kinda funny?" I hear him speak. It could also be a dream, his voice sounds hazy.

"Hm?" I'm probably sleep-talking.

"That you only wanted to kiss me cause you were drunk," I swear it's him talking, I'm not hallucinating, "and I only didn't kiss you cause you were drunk."