”We’ve been through this, I’m not cool, or awesome, or any of those things.” In fact, he had proven time and time again that he sucked at fighting, or anything remotely like fighting. Still she insisted, and he shook his head with a small laugh; all of this was going to be chalked up to the energetic girl being affected by alcohol, which apparently made her crazier than normal.

“And I’ll always accept yours.” He promised easily, and listened as her words became slower, and sluggish, until they trailed off entirely. For a moment he sat there, his arm around the girl as she slept on his chest as if waiting for her to suddenly wake up and continue talking. When that didn’t happen he paused long enough to enjoy the silence, for it was a rare thing.

That over he shifted, setting the mug and glasses away from them both before he slid his free arm under her knees, hoisting her up with him as he stood. It was only a few steps to her bed, and it didn’t take too long to get her on it and under the covers. He didn’t realize however, that her grip remained on his shirt the whole time, and it wasn’t until he tried to back away did he even notice. And then of course he failed to get her to let go.

“Abbi.” He whispered, trying to not wake her for real. “I need you to let go of my shirt.” It was important to be specific, after all. His hands were on hers, still trying to gently pry her fingers off of him. Damn did the girl ever have a grip!