Tutoring Mr. "Bad" boy.

Chapter 17

"Of course, he can stay."
That's mom, and she just approved that Randy can stay the night.
My heart gives a silent whoop and I can feel it do a little flip in my chest.
I can't even begin to explain the excitement that's rushing through my veins right now and honestly, I don't get why this is happening.
I literally have to tell myself to calm down before I can relax a bit.

"You should let him stay in your room so you share Miranda's for the night," she continues, and I release a sigh of relief.
That's better than what I was thinking. I'd actually thought he'd sleep on the couch or something.

"Thanks, mom. Can you help me bring him up?"
"He's your boyfriend, you bring him up," she teases and takes a sip of her herbal tea.

"He's not my boyfriend," I protest immediately.
"Yeah right. Whatever. He's your friend, you bring him up," she rephrases and settles down on the sofa.

"Mom!"

"What?"

"He's asleep and very drunk. I can't bring him upstairs all by myself," I complain in frustration.
This was definitely not how I'd pictured my Friday night....or any other night of my life for that matter!

"You should've thought about that before bringing him home," she tells me with a sarcastic laugh.

"Fine! I'll bring him up all by myself!" I yell and storm outside.

"Randy!"
He jerks up to a start as soon as I tap his shoulder.
"Huh?" His sleepy voice asks.

"I need to get you upstairs. Can you do that for me," I plead.

"I'll do anything for you, Mandy," he goes on in childish gibberish.

"Well, that's sweet, Randy. But I'll actually need you to get up and walk upstairs. Can you do that?"

"You didn't tell me exercise was involved," He pouts and sits up. "Whatever, dude. Let's do it!"

I fold my arms as I watch him struggle out and stagger towards the house.

How much alcohol did he consume to be this wasted, I wonder to myself as I hurry to help him upstairs.

"Hey, Randy!" Mom calls out excitedly without looking away from the television.
She wasn't kidding when she said to bring him up all by myself.

"Hii," comes the drunken reply.

After what seems like forever we finally make it to my room.
"Not the pink sheets," he whines as I push him onto the bed.
"The sheets are just fine," I say firmly under my breath.
"See you tomorrow," I whisper and turn to leave.
I take just two steps when something pulls back the hem of my dress.
Probably a loose nail or something.
I turn to free the dress only to find Randy holding onto it.
I glare at his hand.
"Let me go."

"Mandy?"

"Randy, let go."

"No."

"No? Why?"

"I know you're mad at me."

"I'm not, I promise ," I lie and try prying the dress away from his grip, which is surprisingly tight for his current state.

"Liar." He smiles before sitting up, finally letting go of the dress.

I sigh and move to sit beside him.

"I'm not mad at you. I'm only disappointed because you swore you were done with alcohol," I tell him after a while.
"I'm sorry. I'll do better. I'll do that for you. I promise."