Page 42 of Hate You Up Close


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I clear my throat, bringing myself back to the reality of our current situation. He’s fucked up, and I need to get him home.

“Elliot, stand up,” I command in a sharp tone. I curl my arm beneath his elbow in an attempt to pull him up.

He snakes his arm around my back until the tips of his fingers brush against the top of my ass. I take a half step back, forcing his hand up until it’s resting on my lower back.

Is this what he thinks about in his sleep? Touchingme?

My bones warm at the impermissible thought.

What the fuck I am doing, feeling giddy over my boss touching me? I need to get him home. This is unprofessional and inappropriate on so many levels.

“God, you smell good,” he mumbles against the bar as his fingers dance along my spine. “Always like strawberries and vanilla.”

He’s memorized my smell?

My limbs go rigid as the tip of one of his long fingers dips beneath the seam of my high-waisted leggings. The faint feeling of just the pad of his finger, the skin-to-skin contact, has my heart skipping beats.

“Jesus Christ, Elliot,” I snap, quickly stepping away from him. My skin feels cold where he isn’t touching me anymore. His body goes limp against the counter as he mumbles incoherently.

I run a hand through my hair, racking my brain for an idea. I rest my hands on my hips and lift my gaze to Adam.

“Can you do me a favor?” I ask, holding his concerned stare.

“Sure,” he nods from behind the counter.

“Hand me a glass of cold water,” I demand, reaching out a hand. “Please.”

“Uh…okay,” he hesitates before pouring fresh water into a glass. He slides the cup across the counter, carefully watching my every move.

I waste no time wrapping my fingers around the glass and lifting it above Elliot.

Without a second thought, I tip my wrist and let the icy water splash against the top of Elliot's head. I take a quick step back to avoid getting wet myself.

Elliot feels the sting immediately, gasping and shooting straight up as he hisses out a curse.

Just as expected, that woke him up real quick.

“Fuck!” he hisses through gritted teeth. His eyes fly open in shock, his full-blown pupils threatening to swallow the gold in his eyes.

“Good morning, sunshine,” I smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. Adam joins in, chuckling from behind the counter.

Elliot narrows his eyes, trying his best to assess the situation.

“What the hell?” he slurs, his head swiveling back and forth from me to the bartender in confusion.

“What areyoudoing here?” he asks, his eyes going wide as he glares at me.

“I’m here to take your drunk ass home before you get arrested,” I retort.

“What?” he stutters. “H-How? How did you know I was here?”

“Apparently you were spilling your guts to the bartender, confessing your undying love for me,” I joke. “So, he unlocked your phone and called me instead of the cops. He saved your ass, Elliot.”

He drops his head into the palm of his hand.

“Fuckkkk,” he groans, pulling at his hair. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Andthe old Elliot we all know and love is back.

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