"Let's get you to your place," he said, looking into my eyes.
I was struggling to focus. "No, I want more booze," I said, smiling like a fool.
He shook his head in disagreement. "Everyone's leaving."
He was right—the club was almost empty now. A few people lingered here and there, shouting drunken nonsense. I could even hear someone vomiting in the bathroom. "Guess the party's over," I said with a smile. He nodded.
I tried to stand up but stumbled, barely managing to steady myself before collapsing back onto the sofa, on the edge of passing out.
"Hey, hey... don't fall asleep. Listen, I'll drive you home, alright?" His voice was calm and reassuring as I nodded, barely conscious.
The next thing I remember, I was in my car with him driving. "Where did you find the car keys?" I asked groggily.
"It's valet parking," he replied.
"So they handed them to you?" I mumbled, still trying to piece things together.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, totally in control. How is he not even slightly tipsy? I wondered.
"Why? How?" I asked, my thoughts jumbled.
"What do you mean? I asked for the keys, and they gave them to me."
"Oh, really? You're not the owner of this car. How'd they just give them to you?" I asked, tipsy and barely making sense.
He just smiled. "They handed them over."
"Oh, really? Are you the owner of the club or something?" I teased.
He laughed but said nothing.
"Take a left here," I told him.
"No, it's a right from here. I've got the map on," he said.
"Oh, okay."
The road was mostly empty, with just a few cars passing by. It was around 1 or 2 in the night. Inside the car, silence settled in again. I tried to recall what I'd said to him a few minutes ago, but my mind was too foggy to remember.
I stretched my hand out of the window, letting the cool breeze play with my fingers, feeling a rush of happiness. I smiled.
"Careful," he said, eyes fixed on the road, a faint smile on his lips.
I felt an impulse to lean over and kiss him, to do something crazy right then and there. I pulled my hand back inside, leaned toward him, and pressed my lips against his. His eyes widened as he tried to keep control of the car, pulling over to the side. I pulled back, grinning mischievously.
"What was that?" he asked, surprised.
"It's called a kiss. Don't you know, Mr. CMO?"
He chuckled, starting the car again. I loved his smile, his eyes, everything about him. I turned on the radio, and soft music filled the car. I was loving this moment—the night, the empty road, the music, and him.
I began swaying gently to the music's beat, feeling the cool breeze coming through the window. I leaned out a little, letting the wind brush against my lips and play with my hair.
He glanced over, just watching me and smiling at my little bursts of craziness.
My building was in the outskirts, away from the city's rush, and we were just five minutes away. A thought crossed my mind: Is he just going to drop me off, or will he spend the night with me? I had no idea.
I glanced at him. He looked so handsome in that jacket, his sharp features illuminated faintly by the moonlight. His hands rested firmly on the steering wheel, eyes focused on the road, but there was a subtle smile on his lips whenever he glanced at me. He looked so in control, and it made me want to kiss him again.
