ENZO'S POV
The day was fun, but I ended up really drunk. I don't think I'll be able to remember today's events.
"I'll take Enzo home; he's wasted. The rest of you can get back safely, right?" I heard Doc Olivier say. I'm sure it was him.
"Yes, we can," a voice I couldn't recognize replied.
Doc Olivier said nothing else. He tried to make me walk, but I tripped over my own feet. I was too wasted to feel embarrassed, and I laughed out loud.
"This isn't going to work. I'll have to carry you," he said.
The next moment, I was in his arms, like his lover. I couldn't help myself—I snuggled into his embrace.
Olivier carried me outside to his car. He placed me inside and fastened the seatbelt. I'm going to blame the alcohol for this because, before he could move, I cupped his face. "Hi there, handsome."
Olivier chuckled. "Enzo, let go of me. I need to take you home." Despite his words, he didn't pull away.
"But I like this position. I can see your face up close. You're handsome—so handsome." I couldn't stop blabbering.
Olivier managed to pry my hands off his face. He shut the door, hurried to his side of the car, buckled his seatbelt, and started the engine.
I had so much I wanted to say to Doc Olivier—how I truly felt, how much I loved him—but my eyelids were growing heavy. I tried to fight it, but the more I resisted, the heavier they became.
I dozed off, passing out in the car of my prince charming. It felt nice.
I didn't get to sleep for long. I woke up when Doc Olivier carried me out of the car. I buried my head in the crook of his neck. This felt so good, and I didn't want it to end.
"Where's your room?" His voice sounded strained, like he was speaking through his teeth.
I pointed at my door. He kicked it shut with his foot, carried me to my bed, and laid me down. My bed wasn't as comfortable as his arms.
I don't know if I was seeing things, but it looked like Doc Olivier was stripping. He seemed to be in a hurry. The next moment, my lips were claimed by his.
This didn't feel right. I placed my hands on his chest to push him off, but he grabbed them and held them above my head.
"You've been tempting me all night. You don't expect me to just leave after dropping you home, do you? I've been trying to hold myself back, but you just had to push my buttons," he said, claiming my lips again.
I thrashed and kicked, but he didn't stop. I tried fighting him off, but I was no match. Tears welled in my eyes. There was nothing I could do. I shut my eyes, accepting my fate.
And then suddenly there was a crashing sound, and suddenly his weight on me was gone. When I opened my eyes, he wasn't there anymore. I tried to keep my eyes open, but I couldn't. I passed out.
---........
I forced my eyes open, yawning as I stretched and turned. I was still feeling dizzy. I blinked a couple of times. I was home, but how had I gotten here? My head hurt like hell.
I think Doc Olivier was the one who brought me home. A smile stretched across my lips. He must have left after tucking me in. My heart swelled with love.
Pushing the duvet off my body, I stepped out of bed. I needed aspirin to deal with this hangover. It took a lot of effort not to fall back onto my bed and sleep. I dragged myself to the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, took two aspirin, and headed to the kitchen. Pouring myself a glass of water, I swallowed the medicine, grimacing as I did. Tablets and injections are not my strong suit—I hate them.
I looked around my messy apartment. "I wish I could just crawl back into bed and sleep," I muttered, letting out a long sigh.
Despite my headache, I started cleaning. I cleaned everything: washed my dirty laundry, scrubbed the sink, and mopped the floor. Finally, the house looked livable again.
My stomach roared. "I'm too lazy to cook. I'm going out," I mumbled to myself.
I ran to my room, took a cold bath, and dressed in something simple—a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I may be short and small, but my body doesn't look bad. My mom always said I had sexy legs. I don't have six-packs, but at least I don't have a big stomach. Grabbing my wallet, I headed outside.
Walking down the busy streets of Ravensreach, my mind drifted to last night. The only thing I could remember was being tricked by the bartender into drinking a Bloody Mary. I think my drink was switched to something stronger after that. I remember dancing, but everything else was a blur. I just hope I didn't make a fool of myself, or I won't be able to face Doc Olivier on Monday.
"Good morning, Enzo," Freya, the waitress at the eatery I frequent, greeted me.
"Good morning, Freya. How are you?" I asked with a smile.
"I'm fine. Your favorite spot is empty." She winked at me. I giggled and walked to my usual seat by the far window. I love it because it's secluded, yet I can still watch the world outside.
Freya came over with a menu.
"I don't know why you bring this to me every time when I always order the same thing," I teased.
"It's protocol. So, pancakes and coffee?"
"That's the one," I replied, and she nodded.
"I'll be back shortly," she said, leaving me alone.
There was a magazine on my table. I picked it up and flipped through the pages to kill time. It was about female models. I was about to close it when a page caught my eye—a male model in briefs. He looked so sexy I could eat him.
I paused, glancing around. I have this feeling I'm being watched since I left home. Everyone seemed to be minding their own business, but it was unsettling.
"Here you go, Enzo," Freya said, setting down my plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee.
"Thank you."
She nodded and left.
Halfway through my breakfast, the doorbell chimed. Out of curiosity, I looked up and saw Doc Olivier walk in.
He sat at a table near me but didn't seem to notice me. If he had, he would've said hello, right? I placed my fork down and walked over.
"Good morning, Doc Olivier," I greeted with a smile, sitting opposite him.
He looked at me strangely but didn't reply. Did I do something wrong?
"I... I wanted to ask if you were the one who took me home last night."
"You don't remember?" He raised an eyebrow at me.
"No, Doc," I mumbled.
A charming smile spread across his face. "Yes, Enzo. I took you home. You were really wasted."
"Ah, thank you. Ummm, did I do or say anything out of line?" I bit my bottom lip nervously.
"Let's see—you called me handsome, cupped my cheeks, danced on my thigh, and flirted nonstop. When I finally took you home, I had to pry your hands off me because you wouldn't let go."
I palmed my face. "Fuck! I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of that—it was the alcohol. I'm so sorry, Doc Olivier." My voice was muffled behind my hands.
Doc Olivier gently took my hands away from my face. "You're cute, Enzo, especially when you're flushed. I'm not angry."
I wanted to doubt his words, but his warm smile told me he wasn't lying.
"Thank you..."