After the call, Alastair lingered for quite a while, showing no signs of moving. As his usual bedtime approached, I finally spoke up, "Aren't you going to bed?" I only remembered two instances when Alastair stayed up later than ten o'clock.
The first time was when my parents were out of town, and I had a high fever. Alastair had no choice but to take care of me all night.
The second time was when I went out with friends, and my phone broke on the way home. By the time I returned, Alastair was still there.
Despite my parents' insistence that he was just worried about me, I always thought he was more concerned about me getting into trouble than anything else.
"Yeah," Alastair suddenly spoke up, "Delete the post you made on social media." I blinked in confusion for a few seconds. "What?"
He repeated, "The post you made about having a boyfriend in thirty minutes—delete it."
Puzzled and unsettled, I couldn't understand what he meant. Was it the alcohol or his words that made me feel so miserable? Maybe it was the fact that the person I'd intended the post for hadn't shown up. Maybe it was the humiliation of having someone like Alastair—my long-time rival—see it.
Maybe it was the command in his tone that irritated me.
I clenched my fists and glared at Alastair, speaking coldly, "What's it to you?"
"Alastair," I continued, my anger boiling over, "Do you really think just because my parents asked you to look out for me, you have any right to boss me around?" The fire in my chest burned away any rational thought. "Who do you think you are? What right do you have?"
"Paisley!" Alastair shouted, his face flushed red. Whether from anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell. The wine had obviously affected him, and he was losing control.
"How is this not related to me?" he shot back, a little more unrestrained than usual.
Alastair suppressed his voice, saying, "You say the person who will appear in front of you in thirty minutes is your new boyfriend, but there's only me here!"
"So what?"
I sneered, "The person who will appear in front of me doesn't include you. Even if all the men in the world died, you wouldn't be one of them."
"Why?!"
Alastair glared at me, his hands trembling slightly by his sides, as if he couldn't accept my words.
Step by step, he advanced toward me, his presence becoming more imposing, "It's us who met first. Why can all of them be with you, but I can't?"
I was always blunt when talking to Alastair, but I never expected things to escalate like this.
I thought he would turn around and ignore me for at least a month.
But I never anticipated hearing such a jealous question.
I was momentarily stumped, not knowing how to answer.
Alastair came right up to me, standing extremely close.
He lowered his head, looking like a pitiful dog rejected by its owner, yet also like a lover whispering, "Why can't I?"
I took a deep breath and shifted my gaze, "Alastair, you're drunk."
"I'm not."
He extended his hand, trapping me between the bar and his chest in a half embrace. Alastair stubbornly asked, "Why can't I?"
I had no way to escape, "Because I don't like you, and you don't like me."
"Other couples can be all lovey-dovey every day, but if we kissed, we'd probably both throw up."
"Who said that?"
Alastair seemed unwilling to accept it. As if proving something, he cupped the back of my head and kissed me insistently.
His arm wrapped around my shoulder, his strength nearly crushing me. I had no idea how we ended up here. Alastair's kiss was inexperienced, but like a torrential storm.
I felt dizzy, my legs weak. My hands, which had been pushing him away, were now pinned behind my back. He half-lifted me, walking straight to the bedroom.
"Alastair."
My heart was racing so fast it nearly jumped out of my chest.
My remaining sense of reason tells me we're family friends. We can't let this go too far.
Alastair completely ignored my words.
He reached for a hairband on the vanity, tying my wrists together. My arms were held above my head.
"Who said we can't?"
His cool lips landed again, "I can."
A drunk person is unreasonable, and Alastair was especially unreasonable when drunk.
I caught a glimpse of the bedside lamp, thinking about how hard I would need to hit him, how much force, to knock him out while making sure I didn't hurt his precious brain. But suddenly, his head, buried in my neck, tilted softly.
The even, long breaths filled my ears.
I: "..."
I struggled to untie the hairband around my wrists and then tried to push the person who was pressing me down. He didn't move.
"Alastair."
"I feel uncomfortable."
Seemingly aware of my discomfort, he turned over.
I relaxed a little and was just about to get up and leave when two arms stretched out from behind and unexpectedly pulled me back, hugging me tightly.
"Alastair."
I planned to use the same tactic again: "I need to use the bathroom."
But his arms didn't loosen. Instead, they tightened even more, pulling me closer. I was almost certain he hadn't fallen asleep.
After several failed attempts to push him away, I decided to give up.
Sleeping in someone's arms wasn't so bad, especially since Alastair, while not my type, had a face and body that were undeniably perfect.
It wasn't like I was losing anything.
And just the thought of Alastair Langley waking up tomorrow morning to see this scene made me laugh uncontrollably. I couldn't wait to see the look of utter collapse on his face.
My mind wandered aimlessly as the person next to me inched closer. A soft, affectionate murmur drifted through the air, calling my name, "Paisley."
It was like a jolt of electricity ran through me, leaving me momentarily stunned.
Having known Alastair for over twenty years, I never imagined that one day we'd lie together in such an intimate position. And I certainly never thought he would call my name in such a way. It wasn't as unbearable as I had imagined.
Just like that sudden kiss, it didn't make me puke my leftover dinner.
On the contrary, it wasn't bad at all.
His lips were soft, so different from his cold, hard exterior, with a hint of minty freshness from his mouthwash. I sighed deeply—been single for so long that even my rival now looked handsome.
It was getting colder, time to find a new little boyfriend.
