This Was Not the Plan (gxg)

Chapter 8

I shifted Reagan's car into drive and pulled out of the parking spot, narrowly missing the car parked in front of us. Kendall began to fidget with the radio, her drunken vision causing her to miss the buttons multiple times. I giggled to myself at how comical it was to watch.

"None of these songs are dance!" she whined, still trying to change the station.

"Dance?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

"You know," she started to flail her arms around, "DANCE!"

"I know what dancing is," I laughed, "I've just never heard of a song described as dance."

"Well it sounds dumb when you say it like that." She gave a lazy smirk as if she had successfully insulted me.

"Whatever you say, Kendall," I laughed lightly, shaking my head.

I definitely had not planned on being her babysitter tonight, but I knew I wasn't going to let her walk home. Knowing how stubborn she was, she would have gone through with it too. I could only imagine where she would have ended up. Probably passed out in a ditch somewhere. Or dead. I shivered just thinking about it. I continued to drive a few more blocks before I realized I had no idea where I was going.

"Okay, Kendall. I'm going to need your help." I said, glancing at the drunken mess, sprawled out in the passenger seat.

She had taken off one of her shoes and put her still clothed foot on the dashboard. The seat was all the way back and she was somehow wrapped up in the seatbelt, "what are you doing?"

"This bed isn't comfortable." She sneered as she spun in the seat, trying to figure out how to get the seatbelt over her head.

"That's not a bed."

"Don't tell me how to live my life."

"Ok, well do you think you can help me?" I asked again.

"Well, well, well. How the turn tables." She said confidently with a lazy smile, "looks like you're the help now."

I shook my head, still laughing at her attempt to make sense, "I know you are very drunk right now, but I need you to tell me where you live. What is your address?" I asked, hoping she wasn't too far gone.

"Why? Are you stalking me or something?" she asked with a giggle.

She managed to untangle herself from the seatbelt with ease before leaning across the console, getting extremely close to the side of my face. I kept my eyes on the road, but her breath tickled my ear, making my cheeks burn.

"Do you have a crush on me or something?" she whispered almost seductively.

My stomach stirred, and I shifted uncomfortably under her intimidating gaze. Thankfully, I wasn't able to meet her eyes, if I had, I'd have been paralyzed and would have definitely crashed Reagan's car. I put my palm against her collar bone and gently pushed her back into her seat. Thank God she was drunk.

"Just give me your address, drunkass" I repeated, rolling my eyes.

"Fine, 681654309 Buttsberg drive." She said before laughing hysterically.

"C'mon Kendall, just give me your address," I said, trying to hide my irritation, "I can't take you home witho-"

"You can't take me home!" she interrupted, a panicked look in her eyes.

It took everything in me to hold in my groan, "Why not?"

"Becauuuuuse," she exaggerated, "if Quinn sees how drunk I am she will KILL me!"

She leaned in close to me again, "And she's a cop, so she knows where to hide the body."

I shoved her away a second time. She plopped back into her seat, but still had her body turned to me. She brought her hands up to her chest, clasping them together to make her plead more dramatic.