Manage Me: A Vagabond Romance Page 6

  Everyone at the table sat in the quiet for a moment as the new dynamic of the table fell into place.

  ​"So, Dakota," Drake said, "we got some great customer reviews for the beds you made. Can we count on you for every day going forward for the rest of your life?"

  "Well, I might as well say yes. Clearly, you guys have very discerning customers if the things they're focusing on are the beds that I made. Evidently, I've missed my calling before now."

  Ryan laughed. "I guess it's in the blood. But you'll be happy to know that Maggie showed up at work today."

  "Did she say why she didn't come in yesterday?"

  Our conversation continued easily until Lauren came stumbling into the breakfast area, saw me and made a beeline for our table, pulling a chair over and sitting down with her face in her hands. I put my hand on her back, rubbing her shoulder. "You okay there?"

  "Coffee."

  I went to stand, but Ryan had beaten me to get up and bring Lauren a mug. There was such a genuine selflessness in the gesture, an understanding that my friend would want my company while sitting at a table with people that she didn't know, that it took my breath away.

  Upon returning to the table, Ryan clapped Drake on the shoulder. "Come on, dude. Let's get the day started. We have three weeks worth of paper to go over."

  Drake stood up also: "On it, boss." He leaned over to give Amelia a quick kiss before joining Ryan at the front desk.

  I turned to Lauren, who had her head cradled in her arms. "I'm guessing it was a good night?"

  She looked up at me, giving me a dreamy smile. "So good. So good and so long."

  "Are you referring to the night or Jacob?"

  Lauren smacked me on the back of the head. "Shut up! But both."

  Amelia chuckled. "What time did you get to sleep?"

  Lauren thought to herself for a minute. "3 am. For like an hour before we got up and did it again."

  "Do you still want to go out later?"

  "Yes, but napping is required."

  "Fair enough." I drained the last dregs of my coffee mug. “I'm gonna go get my book, and you can go to sleep upstairs. But be ready to party!"

  "I promise that I'm excited, but please, leave me alone right now," she said her eyes as she stumbled upstairs after me.

  I left her in her bunk and went back downstairs to the couch, where I passed an enjoyable few hours reading. A few times I sensed Ryan's eyes on me from the front desk, and though his watching me was unsettling, it wasn't as unpleasant as I would've thought. A while later, a refreshed Lauren joined me in the lobby, ready for a day on the town. We waved to everyone as we walked out, heading for the cute shops on the waterfront.

  It was a relief to have this time with Lauren when I'd spent the past few years awash in the stresses of my life with Cody and the rising (and abrupt ending) of my career. We were able to talk the way we had in college when we had fewer responsibilities and the endless possibilities of our futures in front of us. It was a little bit irritating to share her with Jacob but not nearly as annoying as it might have been in the course of her past infatuations. At least Jacob seemed like he really liked her.

  "Wait, he's really funny," I said when I glanced over and 'accidentally' read one of the messages he'd sent to her.

  "He is, isn't he? Just my luck that I'd meet someone great when we're so far from home."

  "What does he do again? Mergers and acquisitions?" It was a bit of a catchall term that people in finance used when they described what they did for a living, but it worked in a pinch when talking to people who didn't work in finance.

  "I guess, I don't know exactly."

  "You haven't told him what I do, have you?"

  "No, I was waiting for you to give me the green light." That Lauren; she may as well have had a straight view into my soul.

  "Maybe don't yet? I'd rather it come up naturally."

  We walked in and out of the nearby boutiques for the next few hours, looking over a cute dress here and there, holding true to our commitment to not spend unnecessarily. By seven we were both pleasantly tired and hungry, and for a moment contemplated the idea of going back to the hostel, but neither of us had really let loose over the course of the last few weeks, and I'd been bottling up so many residual resentments over the ending of my job and engagement that I decreed, "Executive decision: we're going to party."

  "YES! I love when you make executive decisions."

  We called our Über and drove straight to the club Lauren had researched on TripAdvisor before we'd gotten on the road. We were still in our sundresses and flat sandals, but we decided not to sweat it. After all, we were going for ourselves, and no other reason.

  The club was already packed when we arrived and given our lack of typical proper club attire, we weren't among the women ushered forward with no waiting time whatsoever. We didn't mind, though. A half-hour passed quickly as we giggled together the way we always had, and we were inside in what felt like no time.

  Once we were inside, though, it clearly didn't matter what we were wearing. We opened up a tab at the bar, but there were soon a few different guys offering to buy us drinks, their attention caught by Lauren's loose, blonde curls. A few of them tried to make conversation, but it was too difficult to listen to them over the music, and we were pretty involved in the dancing we were doing together.

  We'd been going for a few more hours when I noticed that Lauren hadn't been drinking as much water as she should have been, and a tell-tale look on her face told me that she was minutes away from throwing up. I hurried to close up our tab and get her out into the cool air of the street where we could peacefully await our ride.

  "If you're going to puke, do it now. Otherwise you're going to have to wait till we get back home."

  "I'm sorry in advance if I throw up on you. I promise I'm trying to avoid it."

  "I swear to God, if you puke on me I'm leaving you in the street."

  "You wouldn't do that to me, you love me," she slurred.

  She was right, of course. We'd both put up with each other's bouts of drunkenness and occasional vomit in the past, and it hadn't been enough to make us abandon each other. But that didn't mean I wanted her puke all over me. Or all over the car, which would cost us a few hundred dollars.

  The Über got there in record time, and I shoved her into the backseat, leaning over to open her window so she'd have fresh air and a place to aim her throw up if she needed it. The driver watched her closely as he took us back to the hostel, and looked so relieved when we arrived, and she hadn't defiled his car.

  "Come on, drunky; we're here," I said, pulling Lauren toward my door.

  She got out, but as soon as we'd gotten into the front door, she plopped down onto the floor and curled up like she was planning on spending the night down there. I pulled on her as hard as I could, but she didn't move at all. She just mumbled the peaceful gibberish of the truly drunk.

  "Let's just stay here," she mumbled as I pulled her hand, trying to get her up.

  "Come on, Lo. You can't sleep down here."

  "Why not?"

  “Whoa," said a man's voice from behind me. "What did she do to herself?"

  As I turned around to see Ryan standing behind me, I didn't feel the usual rush of annoyance I'd gotten used to when I saw him. I was relieved to have an extra pair of hands, especially a pair of hands that were attached to such an attractive bearded specimen of a man.

  "She's just drunk."

  "I can see that," Ryan snorted out his laughter. "Let's get her upstairs. Has she thrown up yet?"

  "Not yet, so be careful," I couldn't help my giggle as she wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his shoulder in tired relief. "I apologize in advance if she pukes on you."

  Ryan smiled and went straight to the stairs, holding her in a fireman's carry as though she weighed nothing. He took them two at a time, and I had to hustle to keep up with him. I was panting when I got to the room, and I wasn't even carrying a lanky blonde.

&n
bsp; "You'll have to take her in; I'm not allowed in the girls' dorm at night," he said, setting Lauren down and trying to get her to stay upright for a minute.

  Lauren crumpled into his arms. There was no way I was getting her into the bed. I cracked open the door to the room and made sure that everyone was sound asleep.

  "I'm not going to be able to carry her, but no one will notice; just bring her in really quickly," I said, holding the door for him.

  Ryan didn't argue and set her on the bottom bunk of our bed. Damn him for making it look so easy. Not only had he just carried her up three flights of stairs, but he wasn't even breathing heavily.

  "I'm going to get you a bucket, just in case," he said and took off back down the stairs.

  He returned quickly and handed me a bottle of water, a small packet of aspirin, a plate with a slice of toast, and a bucket. There was no way I would be waking Lauren up to take any fluids or puke. My best bet was to set her on her side and hope for the best. I left the bread, water, and meds next to her, and walked back outside to where Ryan was waiting, politely.

  "Thank you so much," I said as I closed the dorm behind me. "You're a hero. Is there any food in this place? I'm starving."

  Ryan grinned down at me. "Come with me." He motioned for me to go back downstairs and for the first time since I'd met him, I wasn't dreading having to talk to him. Although that might have had to do with the promise of food.

  Chapter 9

  Ryan

  Lauren was pretty drunk, so I didn't want to leave her alone for too long. Thankfully she wasn't sleeping alone in the dorm, though, so if she started choking on her vomit, it would wake someone up before anything got too serious.

  "How much did you guys drink? Didn't you alternate with water at all?"

  "I did," Dakota said, giggling. Looking down at her, I noticed for the first time how her eyes crinkled at the corners when she indulged in a real smile.

  In fact, there was a lot more I was noticing about her right now, like the way her eyes and hair were the exact color of milk chocolate and the way her blue sundress hung on her curves in just the right way. I was amazed that Lauren was the one who'd completely lost control; in a situation where the two girls were set to party, I would have assumed that Dakota (being the more uptight one) would be the one to completely lose control and over drink. Not only was she pretty tightly wound, but she was at least a head shorter than Lauren and looked like it would probably take half the alcohol to get her wasted.

  "Did you eat anything?"

  "Carbs. Many, many carbs this afternoon. We forgot dinner, though," she said, shrugging her shoulders in an adorably contrite way.

  "How about a sandwich?" I offered.

  "A really, really big sandwich? With many more carbs?"

  "I promise it'll be huge."

  "That's what he said," she giggled. I couldn't help staring at her. I wouldn't have pegged Dakota for teenage boy humor. "Sorry, I'm drunk and twelve," she said, shaking her head in apology.

  "I noticed. Also, hasn't anyone ever told you that it's illegal to get drunk at twelve?" I laughed, steering her over to a table near the small communal dining area.

  The hostel didn't really serve any meals other than breakfast, but I kept some sandwich supplies on hand for when Drake or I worked late. I pulled them out and moved to the counter near where Dakota was sitting, closely watching each step of the sandwich-making process in that way only very drunk people did when they needed to observe something closely.

  "More turkey," Dakota ordered. Normally I hated being ordered around, but there was something so cute about her imperious tone that I didn't mind it from her. "Do you have bacon? I think this needs bacon."

  "I can fry you some," I offered.

  What was going on with me? I had never, in my life, offered to make a woman breakfast meats at 11:30 at night.

  "You'd cook me bacon? Aww, that's so freaking sweet. Like, the nicest thing ever. Well, besides carrying my drunk friend up three flights of stairs," she said solemnly. "It'll take too long, though. But thanks. It's the thought that counts. Why are you working so late?" The words tumbled out of her in a quick, drunken ramble.

  I told her about how I'd taken the night shift because we'd had a group of backpackers who'd requested a late check-in, and I'd just finished getting everyone settled when I saw Lauren and Dakota pull up in the car. Thankfully I'd been alone in the lobby when they'd gotten back; I'm sure Dakota wouldn't have appreciated a large group of rambunctious travelers checking out her underwear as she'd bent over to pull her drunk friend out of the car. I'd done my best not to look myself, but I had caught a glimpse before turning away, and I couldn't help that I remembered what her ass looked like — namely, a very well-shaped ass.

  I left out the part about her behind. I didn't really think it would improve her already bad perception of me.

  "I'm sorry if I've been rude over the past couple of days, by the way," she interjected with no warning. Clearly, her attention had wandered, but the fact that she'd still been thinking about me took the sting out of it.

  "It's okay. I kind of asked for it when I implied that you were an entitled daddy's girl."

  "Yeah, you did," she said with a chuckle. "I'm really, really not. I don't even know my dad."

  "Yeah, you told me," I reminded her, as gently as possible.

  Her big brown eyes were focused so hard on my face that I was worried she could see into my mind, combing over everything I was thinking of her in that moment; how sorry I felt for the abandonment I was sure she must have felt growing up; the admiration I felt for the woman who sat in front of me, holding her liquor as her friend slept drunkenly above us; and, worst of all, the very, very impolite things a deep, underlying part of me was fantasizing of doing to that butt I hadn't even noticed I'd been thinking about for forty-eight hours straight.

  "That's right, I did. Why did I do that? I never tell people about my dad. Why did I trust you?"

  "I really couldn't tell you." We sat in peaceful quiet as she continued to eat her sandwich. "I'm sorry your sandwich didn't have any bacon on it. I'm glad I know for next time."

  "Me, too." She munched, and I wondered if she was thinking the same thing I was; that there would be more late-night sandwiches in our future. But that also implied that there was an "our" in the future.

  We sat quietly while Dakota finished eating and I watched an infomercial for a milk dispenser that was playing on the television in the main room. The sound was turned down, and I had no idea why we'd need a milk dispenser, but it looked like a great deal if we called in the next five minutes.

  "I like your beard," she said out of nowhere.

  "Thank you."

  "How long have you been growing it out?"

  "Going on two months," I smiled.

  "Can I touch it?" I really needed to get my mind under control; my brain went to filthy places when she asked what I was sure she'd meant as an innocent question.

  "Sure, go for it."

  Her fingers grazed my cheek, and I was suddenly, painfully aware of her touch on my face as I'd never been of another woman's touch elsewhere on my body.

  "I've never really been with a guy with a beard. It's always been an intriguing possibility, but all my boyfriends worked in jobs that required clean shaves. I like yours, though."

  "Thank you, again." I couldn't concentrate, lost in the implications of what she was saying.

  Her face was so close to mine that it would have taken barely any movement to press my lips to hers, and I wanted to. God, I wanted to. As she ran her fingers through my beard, moving them up to my hair, it was all I could think about. But I didn't want to be that guy; everything she said (and didn't say) made it clear that she was already going through a lot, and I didn't want to be that guy; the one who took advantage of a vulnerable girl in the middle of a shitty week and drunk from finally letting loose.

  "Do you think you'll cut it soon?" Dakota asked, pausing to look me in the eye.

  She
was still so close to me that I could smell her shampoo, tinged with the alcohol she'd consumed. She'd taken her hands from my face, and I was consumed by a mixture of relief and regret as we sat there face to face, the energy building as I tried to get my brain to work well enough to respond.

  "Yeah. I keep it short most of the time anyway, so I'm thinking that it's time for this experiment to come to an end."

  "That's a shame."

  She continued to stare at me for a minute before abruptly laying her head back on her arms. She looked so tired that I couldn't help reaching out to run my own fingers through her hair. She hummed with what I assumed was pleasure.

  "Tired?"

  "Mmhmm. All I want is my bed, but I don't know if I can muster enough energy to go up there right now."

  "You can sleep down here if you want." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  "There's a bedroom down here?"

  I knew how it was going to sound before I said it, but there was no helping it. I'd already started digging myself this hole. "Yeah, mine."

  The silence stretched out between us, but it had none of the comfort of any of our previous silences. This one pulsed with the heady anticipation of promise.

  "Don't worry, I'll take the couch out here. It'll just seem like we overbooked and I gave my bed to an extra guest. You'll have privacy."

  She nodded slowly, not taking her eyes off of my face, I got up and took her hand, pulling her up after me. We were quiet as we made our way to my room, the unspoken idea of what could possibly happen in my bed between us making itself known.

  I opened the door to the room and allowed her in before me. She took a cursory look around before turning back to me and focusing her rich, brown stare on my face. "It's nice."