Emancipating Andie - By Priscilla Glenn Page 0,100
her grip on his shirt as she buried her face into his chest.
“Close your eyes, Andie. We can talk more when we get home.”
“Okay,” she sighed against him, and by the time they reached his car, her weight had fully settled in his arms, and she was out cold.
He placed her in the car and buckled her seatbelt before he quietly slid into the driver’s seat, careful not to disturb her. But as he drove them back to his apartment, it became very clear that nothing short of an explosion would rouse her now.
Chase pulled up to the curb in front of his building and walked around to Andie’s side, lifting her up and laying her over his shoulder to free one of his hands for his keys. He hadn’t taken two steps toward the front door before he heard a gurgling sound, and something warm and wet hit his back.
He froze, closing his eyes.
“Shit,” he said, just as another round of wet heat poured down his back, and he shifted slightly, bringing Andie down from his shoulder and holding her up with one arm while trying to pull her hair back with his free hand as she continued to vomit into the street.
When he was sure she was finished, he picked her up bridal style and walked up the three flights to his apartment as quickly as he could while trying not to jostle her. As soon as they were inside, Chase laid her on his couch before going to the bathroom and removing his soiled shirt, tossing it into the tub. He was right about to rinse it out when he heard the same gurgling sound from before, and he grabbed the wastebasket and ran from the bathroom, dropping to his knees in front of her just in time for her to retch over it.
Chase brushed the hair out of her face and whispered reassuring things to her, although she was clearly beyond hearing him.
After several minutes Andie flopped back onto the couch, her arms splayed at her sides and her eyes closed, and Chase noticed the vomit on the front of her shirt. He placed the bucket on the floor and carefully pulled her arms out of the sleeves before cradling her head with one hand and pulling the shirt up over it with the other.
He returned to the bathroom with the pail and her shirt, dropping it into the tub next to his own before he began to clean them both.
After rinsing everything down and laying the shirts over the curtain rod to dry, he went rooting through his medicine chest for some aspirin. She was somewhat coherent after getting sick the second time, and Chase was able to coax her into swallowing the two pills with a few sips of orange Gatorade.
And then she went completely limp on his couch in her bra and jeans, snoring slightly.
Chase stood over her for a minute, shaking his head with a tiny laugh.
“I think I served my penance tonight. What do you think?”
She snored in response.
He laughed again as he removed her jeans and tossed them over a nearby chair. Then he grabbed his soccer shirt from the coffee table and gently pulled it over her head before putting her arms through the sleeves.
Chase lifted her from the couch and moved her to the recliner so he could pull the bed out. Once he had set out the blanket and pillows, he picked her back up and laid her on the mattress before he climbed on, lying on his side to face her.
And he stayed that way, with his head resting on his arm, watching her until the sky outside turned pink with the rising sun.
Chase opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness before he turned his head to the side. She was sitting up, her legs pulled into her chest and her chin resting on her knees as she looked down at him.
“Hi,” she said softly.
Chase slowly rolled on to his side, looking up at her. “Hi,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.
It was quiet for a moment before she said, “Your eye looks terrible.”
He nodded. “It feels terrible.”
A silence fell over them again, and Chase propped his head up on his hand, looking her over. Her face was slightly pale and she had a little smudge of makeup under each eye, but other than that, she looked as beautiful as ever.