Be Rude but Love Me | ✔

CHAPTER 17

"Put me down!" I hammer my fists into Yann's back as he walks back with me to the front of the house.

"Jesus," I hear him mutter.

As the blood rushes to my head, I suddenly feel dizzy. "I'm going to..." I hiccup. "I'm going to..." Another hiccup escapes, more violent than the previous one. "... puke."

"Shit!" Yann curses and he abruptly stops walking.

Hastily, he puts me down and before my feet can touch the ground, I am already flying towards the bushes before me. I barely make it there when I start retching, the beer coming up and burning my throat. I feel Yann's hand on my back as he rubs soothing circles and his other hand is holding my hair up.

My stomach hurts from puking so violently and I suddenly feel weak. My knees buckle under me and I start falling. However, before I can hit the ground Yann's hands come around me and he lifts me up effortlessly into his arms.

Looping my arms around his neck not to fall, I hold on tightly to him and rest my head on his shoulder. He carries me away from the party, away from the noise, away from the beer.

"Beer," I croak out feebly.

It's not a plea to have more beer, I most definitely do not want any. It's more of an accusation as I'm saying that the beer caused me to be that wasted. I've barely had five, I think. So much for tolerance.

Yann seems to misunderstand what I say and thinks I am telling him to get me back to the beer we left back there. "Oh shush, Graham," he says but his voice holds neither impatience nor annoyance, "no more beer for you."

I don't bother telling him that's not what I meant and just let him carry me. As my head rests there, in the crook of his neck, I smell it. The shampoo scent I'd hoped for earlier. I can't tell what it smells like – it's not the usual mango or strawberry or anything – but it smells heavenly good.

"You hair smells good," I whisper.

He only hums noncommittally and keeps carrying me. His beard tickles the side of my face and for once I don't mind it. I am too comfortable right now in his arms to really care. His hair brushes the side of my face as well, and it feels like a paintbrush on a canvas, kind of. I love the feeling. Again, my heart starts beating fast, like it's about to race out of my chest. What is happening to me?

"My heart is beating fast," I tell Yann. "I think it's the adrenaline."

His hair falls further into my face as he dips his head at me, confusion across his features. "What adrenaline?"

"The adrenaline," I say, as if it's obvious. But of course I don't make any sense. I'm drunk.

I hear him sigh and his hair slowly retreats from my face as only the end of his strands still caresses my skin. I smile despite myself and close my eyes.

A few seconds later, I hear a car door opening and I sense as Yann leans in and hear him mutter, "damn this truck." I feel myself sliding out of his grip and land onto a seat. I open my eyes to find Yann hovering above me as he straps me in. Leaning back, he stands by my side at the door for a moment, simply looking at me. Then he reaches for me and brushes my hair out of my face.

"Be right back. I'm gonna get the keys," he says and starts to walk away.

"You don't even have a license," I protest, my voice coming out in a yawn.

"You didn't seem to mind earlier," he says then he's gone.

I don't know how long I stay alone in the semi-darkness until Yann returns. Behind him, I see Ellie and Will with worried looks on their faces.