This girl must have been some kind of soft-bodied creature in her past life. How else could she cling to him like she was glued on, refusing to let go?
Blaine Jackson stood beside his car, trying to pry Chloe Grace's hands off his coat so he could get her home. It took no less than five minutes of effort to successfully extricate himself and slip into the driver's seat.
Thinking the ride home would be peaceful, Blaine glanced over at Chloe, who had been silent the entire time, slumped against the passenger seat. Then, without warning, she started shouting.
"…Stop… the car…" After a long pause, she managed to choke out the words.
"Stop the car?" Blaine glanced around. They were surrounded by traffic, with no place to pull over.
"Chloe, we're not home yet. Why do you need me to stop?"
"I… I need to… go… to the bathroom…" she stammered, her soft voice tinged with urgency.
"Bathroom?" Blaine couldn't help but laugh. "You need to use the restroom?"
"Quickly…" Her delicate voice trembled with desperation.
"We can't stop here. Hold on a bit longer; we're almost there," Blaine said reassuringly. He glanced at her pained expression, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. "See? This is why I told you not to drink so much. Now you're regretting it, aren't you?"
Chloe squinted at him, trying to glare but failing miserably in her inebriated state.
Ten minutes later, Blaine finally pulled up, scooped Chloe out of the car, and hurried inside, heading straight for the second floor. His swift entrance startled everyone in the shop, including Annie.
"Annie, didn't you say Miss Grace's cold was almost gone? Why does the director always carry her in and out?" a nosy employee whispered.
Annie shot the person a sharp look, and they quickly shut their mouth.
---
Blaine pushed open the door to Chloe's room and carried her inside, gently placing her on the bed.
"Chloe, you're home now. If you need the bathroom, go ahead," he said.
Chloe mumbled an acknowledgment, stumbling off him and tottering toward the bathroom.
"Chloe!" Blaine called out when he saw her staggering dangerously.
"What?" She turned to him, swaying slightly.
"Uh… nothing. Just… be careful not to fall…" What was he thinking, stopping her now? She was heading to the bathroom—did he expect to help her? He shook his head at his own absurdity, but for a brief moment, he was genuinely tempted to follow her.
Was he drunk? No, he hadn't touched a drop.
Suddenly, faint sobbing broke through his thoughts. The soft, intermittent sound was unmistakably coming from the bathroom.
"Chloe? Are you crying?" he asked, perplexed.
"…Waaa…" Her sobs quickly escalated into full-blown wailing, startling Blaine.
He banged on the bathroom door, alarmed. "Chloe! What's wrong? Open the door!"
"…Blaine, you're such a jerk…" she whimpered through the door.
Blaine raised an eyebrow in confusion. When the door creaked open, he was greeted by the sight of Chloe's discarded jacket on the floor, leaving her in a sparkly camisole. Her trembling hands clutched at the waistband of her jeans, struggling fruitlessly with the button.
Her flushed face and frustrated stomping painted the picture clearly. Blaine suddenly understood, a grin tugging at his lips.
"Chloe, let me guess… you can't undo the button?"
Chloe glared at him with teary eyes that sparkled like glassy pools.
"This is your fault!" she accused, stomping her foot. "You made me wear jeans instead of a skirt! Now I can't undo them, and you're laughing at me!"
Her voice was so pitiful that Blaine felt a pang of guilt amidst his amusement. He sighed, stepping forward to steady her as she nearly lost her balance again.
"All right, stand still. Let me help," he said softly, his hands deftly unfastening the troublesome button.
"It's done. Be careful in there," he told her gently before stepping out and closing the door behind him. He headed to the living room, leaving Chloe to take care of herself.
Chloe stared blankly at the closed door, wanting to say something, but her immediate priority demanded her attention.
---
By the time Blaine returned to her room with a bowl of ginger tea to help sober her up, the bathroom door was still closed, and the bed was empty.
No way, he thought. It had taken him at least twenty minutes to prepare the tea. Was she still in there?
He quickly set the bowl down and hurried to the bathroom, knocking loudly. "Chloe! What are you doing in there for so long? Did you fall asleep on the toilet?"
There was no response. Worried, he pushed the door open—and immediately froze.
His blood seemed to boil as his face flushed, heat spreading from his ears to his neck. His pulse quickened, and his throat felt dry.
Clothes were scattered on the floor, starting with the sparkly camisole. His eyes followed the trail until they landed on Chloe, lying unconscious in the empty bathtub, completely bare.
Judging by her posture, she had likely intended to run a bath but had fallen asleep before turning on the water.
Blaine's gaze lingered for a moment before he noticed a strange warmth in his nose. Panicking, he wiped it with his hand, relieved to find it was just heat and not an actual nosebleed.