= CHRIS POV =

It took me two hours to first fetch her bags to my car, then carry her drunk and sleepy body down the stairs, bundle her into the passenger seat, and finally, drive all the way back home. 

And then, of course, repeat the process in reverse; lugging her belongings and then her fragile, half-conscious form up to my apartment. 

By the time I managed to tuck her into the guest bed and stashed her things in the corner of the room, my muscles burned, and my shirt clung to me uncomfortably from sweating.

 However it all felt worth it as nothing made me happier than seeing Sarah’s small form lying safely on the bed, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

I exhaled and stepped back, brushing a strand of damp hair off my forehead. The guest room had always been more of an afterthought, a space kept clean for when my mom visited, not that she needed to stay in my apartment, however sometimes she just wanted to be closer than close, and so I kept the guestroom for her so that she didn’t have to sleep on the couch.

I turned off the light and quietly pulled the door shut behind me, ready to collapse into my own bed when a soft voice cut through the quiet.

“Chris? Christina?”

I froze. The sound of my full name. 

Her voice was so soft, almost pleading, it sent a chill down my spine. I stepped back into the dimly lit room and approached the bed cautiously.

“Yes? What’s wrong? Do you need something? Food? Water?” I asked, leaning down slightly to check her face. Her cheeks were flushed, either from the wine or the exhaustion, but her eyes were wide and glossy.

Before I could say another word, Sarah’s arms shot up and hooked around my neck, yanking me forward. I barely had time to brace myself as I landed half-on, half-beside her on the mattress. Her breath was warm against my skin, laced with the scent of wine and salt from the chips she’d eaten earlier.

“I need to make payment,” she murmured, her voice heavy with drowsiness but her grip impossibly firm. Her lips brushed against mine, soft and trembling, and for one agonizing second, I froze. The warmth of her mouth lingered as my heart lurched and my brain screamed at me to pull away.

“Sarah, no…wait,” I said, gently prying her hands from around my neck, pressing her back into the sheets, gently but firmly.

I pulled back, sitting on the edge of her bed, but her small hand shot out, wrapping around my wrist like a vice.

Her eyes, glassy, desperate, stared up at me, pleading.

 “But you do it with all the girls,” she whined, her voice so raw and broken that it stabbed straight through my heart. “Just this once. I won’t tell a soul,” She whispered, as though me taking her would be the sweetest thing, and not the most barbaric. 

I swallowed hard. The room suddenly felt suffocating, as if the walls were closing in. She was drunk. She was vulnerable. This was wrong.

“Sarah, you’re not thinking clearly. You…” My voice faltered as her other hand trailed up my stomach, her fingers light but deliberate, tracing a path toward my chest.

I caught her wrist, but my resolve wavered the moment her eyes locked with mine again…wide, vulnerable, and shimmering with unshed tears. 

My pulse roared in my ears, drowning out every rational thought, every voice screaming for me to stop.

And then I caved.

I grabbed the pillow next to her head. Looking down in her eyes, I felt something twist in my gut. I knew this was wrong.

So wrong.

And then my lips were on hers, pressing against those feather light jewels that I craved more than life itself. 

I groaned immediately. I heard a soft whimper as she shifted beneath me. I felt her hands creeping up my body, slender fingers curling around the back of my neck, the illusion of her wanting this as much as I did. 

But no…how could she? She wasn’t even lucid. 

And yet my other hand was in her hair, keeping her in place, keeping her where I could keep tasting her decadent sweetness. 

My tongue darted out, and she parted her lips for me. I melted inside, this was it, this was the moment I destroyed a friendship I had been clinging on to by the thinnest thread. 

 I tasted the sweetness between her lips, this time hotter and richer, laced with wine. Time could have stopped and I would have lived in this moment forever, cradling her, drinking her up; a never-ending promise of a curse and a salvation, wrapped up in the softest, palest skin. 

I knew I was about to lose control. I knew I was about to cross a line that there was no coming back from.