𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐘, 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

𝒛 𝒐 𝒎 𝒃 𝒊 𝒆 𝒍 𝒂 𝒏 𝒅

You knocked on the door of Tallahassee's temporary bedroom, waiting patiently for him to answer.

A groan came from the other side, and after some shuffling and a string of curses, the man opened the door.

He looked exhausted, ready to chew out whoever was knocking on his door so late, but the second he laid eyes on you, his face softened.

"Now a good time?" You asked, not wanting to disturb him.

"Yeah, yeah," he quickly nodded, stepping back to open the door, using his hand to rub the sleep off his face, "I was just catchin' up on some sleep."

"Well," you smirked, walking in and turning around so he couldn't see behind you, "I figured after such a shitty end to the day, you'd wanna share a drink."

He shut the door and turned around, cocking a brow.

A drink?

You pulled out an old-looking bottle of Jack Daniels from behind your back, looking at it proudly.

"Aged sixteen years. Forty-five percent," you stated as you red the label, walking over to his bed and sitting down, "Bill musta been savin' it for a special occasion."

You looked up at him with a mischievous expression, and he smirked, slowly walking over.

"You woke me up...at one in the morning...to get hammered?" He sat down.

"And talk," you added with a knowing smile.

He raised a brow, "And talk?"

...

You caved.

"Fine," you sighed, dropping your shoulders, "Numb Nuts and Wichita are goin' at it somewhere, and Little Rock is off doin' who knows what. .....And it's sad for a woman to get drunk by herself."

He chuckled, quite amused by your predicament.

You rolled your eyes, standing up.

"Fine, then," you shrugged with a sly smile, "Guess I'll take me and my fancy whiskey elsewhere..."

"Don't even think about it, missy," he grabbed your arm, yanking you towards him.

Losing your balance, you sat down on his lap with an oof, slightly taken aback.

You turned to him with an air of surprise, and he smirked, using the distraction to his advantage and taking the bottle from your hand, popping open the cork.

"S'like wavin' a carrot in front of a horse. Can't threaten me with a good time an' then pick up an' leave," he stated, matter-of-factly.

You raised a brow with a smile, "I'm havin' a hard time tellin' whether you're talkin' about the booze or me."