Apartment 311

Ch | 30

Noah Silas Anderson
Chapter Thirty: "You sure know how to treat a lady"

It was close to four in the morning when I got back to my place.

I groaned, turning the lights on and shuffled straight to the bathroom.

I flushed the toilet then settled in my bedroom to remove my shoes and jacket.

As soon as my phone vibrated on my mattress, I checked to see who was possibly bothering me at such a time. It was only Sky, telling me she just got home from some weird show and how she wanted me to come over since her girlfriend left town again. Because I wasn't sure, I didn't reply.

My stomach growled so I found my way to the kitchen. I noticed it was running low on, well, everything and made a note to go shopping sometime.

I wish I had a mom, especially one like Gael's, I thought in my head. She gives him so much, always makes sure he's straight as a good parent would.

All I had as options were Eggo waffles and a Turkey and cheese sandwich. Obviously the waffles were more appealing so I popped them in the toaster oven and spun around my island.

As soon as the timer went off the second time, I got out the two waffles and drowned them in butter and syrup.

After only one bite, there was an interruption. I growled at the knocking and hesitated to get up and answer it.

It might be important, I thought. So I went to see who was there.

"Brooklyn?" I knew it was her but it was hard believing she was at my door so late.

She gasped when her glossy eyes connected with me. Brooklyn finished removing her heels and then pushed her way inside.

"I'm literally so drunk," she slurred her words, roaming around the open space in my living room.

I chuckled. "Yeah, I see that."

Brooklyn rotated in a wonky circle and smiled at me. She just looked drunk - a good drunk, though, but still, drunk. One of the straps had fallen over her shoulders, her hair was in a messy ponytail that was coming loose, and her eyes were low as she kept this quirky close-mouthed smile.

"Ooo, waffles!" She exclaimed and rushed over to my plate.

"Brooklyn, do not touch my food." I warned. Testing me, she reached for the plate and I slapped her hand. She just made this face like she was hurt, then hiccuped and stumbled out of the kitchen.

"You're wrecked," I intoned, shaking my head as I looked down at Brooklyn on the couch. My arms folded like I was disappointed, although I couldn't help but laugh at her.

"Come lay with me," she whined, extending her arms.

"Brooklyn, it's four o'clock in the morning. Let's get you back to your place," I suggested.

My body stood right in front of her as she propped herself up, digging her knees in the cushion.

"Okay," Brooklyn babbled, "help me up."

When I put my hands at her small waist, she pulled me in and put her lips to mine.

My first instinct was to pull away. She's drunk and wouldn't do this otherwise, I think.

Brooklyn stared into my eyes for a second before palming my face and bringing me back.

I gave in for the moment and let our bodies fall onto the couch. Brooklyn moaned in my mouth as I ran my hands over her warm skin. She was smooth and tasted just as good as I remembered from the cruise.