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The door flew open and there he was.
Yummy.
“Holy fuck—fuck me—fuck me—” Adam dipped down next to me, all muscles—and for some weird reason—he was panicking. Like, full-on, wide-eye panicking. The presentation had gone so good. Why is he stressing out? “Ice princess, come on, you have to get up. Come here.”
“I threw up,” I said, sad thinking about it.
“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” He put his hand on my forehead, and he was so warm to the touch I instantly curled up next to him.
I couldn’t remember when I’d gotten so cold.
How long have I been lying on the tile?
Adam leaned over me, his usual carefree face covered in lines and lines of worry. He sucked in breaths like he was doing it through a straw. He looked pinched. Pinched and panicking, that was Adam. But that was never Adam. Why was he freaking out? He was freaking me out.
“Are you hurt?” he urged. “Did you fall?”
“No…I just…threw up…”
“We’re going. Grab hold of me.”
Against all reason, my hand reached up without me telling it too and I stroked the side of his face. His perfect jaw and the little bit of stubble that grazed my fingertips. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
If the walls weren’t spinning behind him, I could’ve sworn Adam’s hands were shaking. “How much did you drink?”
“Drink?”
“The peach lemonade.”
“Oh my god—that was super good—”
“Piper,” he interjected, holding me up when I started falling back. “How much did you drink?”
I struggled to remember. “Two…?”
“Sips?”
“Cans…?”
Adam paled. His eyes flickered back and forth between me and the ground before he wrapped an arm around me and carefully held me up. Why is he moving me? I was so comfortable on the tile, but he was so determined to waltz me around. My head lolled back against his chest, and he adjusted to it, basically puppeteering me out of the bathroom.
“I need…mouthwash…” I mumbled, and he adjusted me to stand in front of the sink.
“You’re on call…” Adam drew in a slow breath, propping me up. “They can’t find out you’re drinking. This is bad. Oh fuck me, this is bad.”
When I was finished, he took me out to my couch and started pacing on the floor.
“Everybody’s coming to the second event.” He ran his hand through his hair. “And you have to do the fucking rounds and the noise complaints—fuck. Fuck!”
“Who cares?” My words slurred, even if I tried to keep them together. “I want tacos.”
"Goddammit, I care." He wiped his face with his hand, still panicking, still exhausting me. "I care so fucking much, Piper. You have no idea how much I fucking—”
He stopped himself and froze. A beat passed.
“Someone has to be the responsible one here,” he finally said. “And you are not getting in fucking trouble. You’re not getting fired. You’re not losing your job."
Adam disappeared and came back with a cool washcloth. He laid it over my forehead and I couldn’t do much more than lie back on the couch. When I tried to touch his face again, he held my hand and stopped me.
