Chapter 16

By the time the club was closing for the night, Lara’s shoes were still miraculously on her feet, though her feet were not so solidly beneath her.

Thank God for Delia, who managed to usher them carefully into a cab and even had enough wits about her to set two destinations, Lara’s apartment and then her own a few blocks away.

“You’re not staying the night?” Lara whined.

“No way. I’m not dealing with your hangover in the morning.”

“You do not love me one bit.” Lara let her head droop against Delia’s shoulder.

Delia pressed a kiss to her crown, and Lara decided she could forgive her this time.

When they reached Lara’s building, Delia loved her enough to help her out of the cab, telling the cabbie to keep the meter running while she helped Lara to her apartment.

Lara was grateful for that because—even though she had been living here for about three months—she was having a hard time remembering how to get there.

“Lara?”

Using considerable effort to lift her slumped body off the wall, Lara turned toward whoever it was that had called her name. “Traviiiiiiiiis,” she sang, smiling brightly.

“Is that Hot Neighbor Man?” Delia whispered.

Lara hummed in affirmation, trying to focus her eyes on the buff brown-haired man who she had effectively ruined any and all chances with.

“Hi, I’m Delia.”

Travis stood by the elevators with them and shook her hand. “You girls have a good night?” His voice lilted with amusement.

Lara burped, and Delia looked dutifully horrified, her face ashen and her lips parted in surprise. Lara found it pretty funny herself. “Mm-hmm,” she said with a nod—or several nods, as it were. She felt like a bobblehead, though, so she stopped.

At least Travis seemed to think it was funny.

“Delia, you can go back to the cab.” Lara tried her best to keep the slur from her words. “I can go upstairs with Travis.”

Delia didn’t look convinced.

“I live a few doors down from her,” he said. “It’s no trouble.”

Lara nodded in agreement, but she really should stop doing that because it was beginning to make her dizzy.

“You sure?” Delia asked, peering carefully into Lara’s eyes.

Lara focused all her energy on looking as sober as possible as she stared back. “Yep,” she said with one firm nod.

“Text me when you get in,” Delia said. “I mean it, bitch. Otherwise, I’m coming straight back here, and you will not enjoy the events that follow.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Lara saluted her, then rolled her eyes and slumped back against the wall.

The elevator dinged, announcing its arrival, and Travis moved to hold the door open.

“Night, D. Love you,” Lara said, pressing a quick peck to Delia’s lips before sauntering into the elevator. At least, she thought she was sauntering until her toe caught the edge of the floor, and she stumbled into the wall. “Oops.”

“Please take care of her,” Delia said to Travis after a long sigh.

Lara stuck her head out to give Delia what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry so much! Hot Neighbor Man has my back.”

“What she said.” Travis laughed.

Delia simply shook her head, bid them good night, and walked back toward the main entrance.

“Hot Neighbor Man, huh?” he asked as he got in the elevator and pressed the button for their floor.

“Yeah, as if you didn’t know,” Lara said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Hmm, it’s news to me, but I’m glad to hear it.” He gave her a playful smile. “Could’ve done something about it, you know.”

“I don’t think you could handle that, Tree Boy,” she said, laughing, and leaned against his sturdy shoulder.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulder to hold her up. “How about I just treat you to coffee tomorrow to help you with that hangover?”

“God, I am going to be so hungover!” Lara giggled. She rested her head on him, smiling at the sound and feel of his laughter. “That sounds nice. Not too early, though. Please.”

“Not too early,” he agreed.

The doors opened, and he gently ushered her onto their floor. She held tightly to his arm as she wobbled her way to her apartment.

“Your key?” he asked with an outstretched palm.

She swung her wristlet around until she managed to take hold of it, which took a few tries. Then, she pulled her key ring from its side pocket and let Travis’s arm go as he got to work unlocking her door.

While it didn’t take him very long at all, she needed only a split second to go from shakily standing to firmly planted on the carpeted floor of the hallway—ass-first.

“Ouch.” She pouted and kicked off her shoes, knowing in her heart that it was their fault.

The sound of a door opening caught her attention, and she tilted her head back with a wide grin, happy that Travis had gotten her door open. But when she looked up, it wasn’t her door that was ajar, and it wasn’t Travis she was smiling up at.

“Need a hand?” Zavien asked, one eyebrow lifted, with what she was sure was an arrogant smirk behind that mask.

“I’m fine,” Lara snapped as she planted her palms on the ground and tried to climb up to her feet.

Travis leaned down to help her, but she had barely made it to her knees before her stomach began to lurch, so she gently lowered herself back down.

“On second thought, I think I need a minute,” she muttered.

“I’ll get you some water,” Travis offered.

Lara smiled up at him in thanks as he disappeared inside her apartment, leaving Lara in the hall with the devil himself.

Zavien crouched down to look her in the eye.

“Go back to your illegal dog,” she grumbled.

“C’mon, I apologized,” he said with a head tilt that was annoyingly cute.

“Am I concussed? You never apologized.”

The corners of his eyes creased; she had never wanted to hit anyone so badly before. “Let me make it up to you now, then,” he offered, holding out an open hand to her.

She glared at it. “I would rather sleep out here than take that.” She filled her words with as much vitriol as she could muster, given that she was sitting on the scratchiest carpet she had ever had the misfortune of falling onto.

He rolled his eyes and dropped his hand, and Lara thought he would leave. Instead, he draped her arm around his shoulder and began to pull her up from the ground. “You can’t stay down here,” he said softly.

His voice was low and sweet, she noticed for the first time. It rumbled through her in a way that felt a little too nice, and—

Oh god, she was going to puke if he didn’t leave her on the floor. “I’m serious, I need to sit,” she insisted, swatting at his shoulder.

“Stop being so difficult. I’m trying to help you,” he said, trying to drag her up to her feet.

But she remained limp, her butt hovering an inch above the carpet as she dangled from his shoulders. “I don’t want your help.” With a grunt, she tried to remove her arm from around him.

He turned his face to hers. If it weren’t for that mask, she would feel his breath against her lips. She swallowed and held his stare. Then, before she could say or do anything to deter him, he hauled her up in one swift move.

It was impressive—except that the world was spinning, and she was trying so, so hard to hold it in, but nope, there was no stopping this tidal wave.

“Oh, shit,” came that rumbly, post-evacuation voice, but that was the least of her concerns.

Directly in front of her, with a glass of water in hand, Travis stood, his shirt and pants splattered with her vomit.