“You’re a hopeless drunk, you know that?” he utters warmly. I think he’s laughing at me, but I’m a little too comfy to reply. I tingle all over as his touch connects, moving the hair off my face, he lifts my arm to untangle the strand caught in my bracelet. It’s nice, relieving to have the irritation removed as he pulls my arm straight toward him and lays it on the cool leather seat. The sway of the moving car lulls me into a soothed, relaxed mode with closed eyes. I could fall asleep so easily.
“I’m just hopeless in general,” I chuckle again. He says nothing, and I experience a tug of outrage that he may agree, but I let it slide over me the same way these waves and warm tides are doing. My arm is still warm, I think he still has his hand on it. I open one eye and look down to check: he’
