Chapter 160: The Last Person I Expected
For a second, I thought I was seeing things.
Avery sat cross-legged on the step in front of my door, head tilted back against the wall, humming something under her breath. There was a half-empty bottle clutched loosely in her hand, her eyes half-lidded, her hair a little messy from the wind.
The moment she noticed me, her lips curved into a slow, tipsy smile.
] "Kai..."
I blinked. "Avery?"
She grinned wider, like I’d just shown up to a surprise party she’d planned.
I looked around the quiet parking lot — not a single car in sight except mine. My brain was already racing through every possible reason why she’d be here, at my place, at almost midnight. None of them made sense.
Before I could ask anything, she tried to stand. Or at least, that’s what it looked like she was trying to do. She made it halfway up before her balance betrayed her, and she stumbled forward.
I caught her before she could hit the ground. Reflex, pure reflex.
Her hands pressed weakly against my chest, her head tipped up, and she smiled again, softer this time. "You caught me," she murmured, like she was saying something she’d rehearsed. "You’re... like my hero or something."
I sighed through my nose, trying to steady her without actually holding her. She was unsteady, swaying in place, and I could already tell that if I let go, she’d end up kissing the pavement.
"What... how did you even get here?" I asked, my voice half disbelief, half tired.
She blinked, thinking. "Uber."
"Uber," I repeated flatly.
She nodded, proud of herself for remembering. "Mhm. The guy asked where I was going, and I said, ’to my man’s place,’ and he said my man must be lucky ’cause I’m hot."
She leaned back slightly, looking up at me with that sleepy grin. "Am I hot, Kai?"
I stared at her for a long second, debating if answering would help or make things worse. "You’re drunk," I said instead.
She laughed. "That’s not what I asked."
I took a step back, creating just enough space so she could stand on her own, or at least try. My brain was already running damage control: how to get her home, where her phone might be, if she’d even remember her address in this state.
"Don’t you know it’s not safe to—" I started, then stopped myself. Scolding her right now would do nothing.
I exhaled. "Let’s go. I’ll drive you home."
She pouted immediately, like a child being told bedtime came too soon. "Nooo..."
"Avery."
Her giggle cut me off. "I wanna stay here."
I rubbed the back of my neck. "You can’t."
"I wanna stay here," she repeated, slower this time, her tone dipping into something between teasing and pleading. "With you."
Her words hung there, heavy. I forced myself not to react.
"It’s late," I said quietly.
"Exactly," she replied, wagging a finger at me like she’d just found the perfect logic. "It’s not safe to drive when it’s late."
I stared at her, and for a second, not because it was funny, but because she somehow landed the perfect counterargument while barely able to stand.
If it weren’t for the glassy look in her eyes, the faint wobble in her stance, or the unmistakable smell of alcohol on her breath, I might’ve thought she was pretending.
But she wasn’t.
She was drunk — the real, unfiltered kind that came with slurred words and too-loud honesty.
She looked up at me again, lips curved in a small, uneven pout. "Please. I’ll be good."
Yeah, right.
I glanced at my watch. 11:41 p.m.
Her place was far. She’d mentioned it once before, back in university, when Professor Ramos used everyone’s home addresses as an example for some data efficiency thing. She’d complained about her commute then, how it took forever.
Now, that forever felt even longer.
I sighed, long and deep. Every rational part of me screamed don’t do it, but the alternative, leaving her here, alone and drunk... wasn’t one I could live with either.
"Alright," I muttered under my breath. "Come on."
Her face lit up like she’d just won something.
I unlocked the door, guiding her in. She nearly tripped again on the welcome mat, and I had to catch her elbow.
"You good?"
She nodded, unconvincingly. "Mhm. Totally fine."
The second she stepped in, she kicked off her heels, let out a sigh that sounded like she’d been holding her breath for years, and dropped onto the couch.
I locked the door behind us, trying not to think too hard about what I’d just done.
She leaned her head back against the cushion, eyes half-closed. "Your place smells the same."
"Same as what?"
She thought about that for a while, then shrugged. "You."
I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t ask.
Her lips curved faintly. "You still think I’m trouble, huh?"
I looked at her, at the sleepy tilt of her head, the alcohol-flushed cheeks, the faint glint of sadness buried somewhere behind her grin. "I think trouble follows you around."
She smiled at that, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You always say the right thing."
I opened my mouth to reply, but she was already slipping sideways, curling up on the couch like her body finally gave up pretending to be awake.
I exhaled again, quietly.
Avery. Of all people. Of all nights.
I stood there for a while, watching her chest rise and fall, the world outside my window blurring into soft, quiet city lights. She looked peaceful. Innocent, even. The kind of peace alcohol pretends to give but never really does.
I went to grab a blanket from the bedroom — one Val had bought, the soft gray one she liked because it "felt like a cloud." Draping it over Avery felt strange. Not wrong, just... distant. Like I was borrowing a gesture from someone else’s life.
She murmured something in her sleep, soft and broken around the edges.
] "Don’t go... please..."
Then quieter — like a confession she never meant anyone to hear —
] "Kai... just this once, stay."
My chest tightened before I could stop it.
I took one step back, then another, resisting the instinct to overthink, to wonder what that "once" meant... If she’d been dreaming about tonight, or about something that never even happened but she wished had.
With Tasha, it was easier. She hid behind composure — polite smiles, carefully measured words, a professional tone that tried to disguise what she felt. It was a boundary I could see, one I could maintain. She wanted to be close, yes, but she still wanted to look untouchable while doing it.
But Avery... she wasn’t hiding behind anything. No walls, no filters, no restraint. Just raw, messy emotion — the kind that didn’t ask for permission. If there was one thing I never saw coming, it was this. Avery, of all people, looking at me with that kind of... I can’t even say the word.
Now she was here, drunk, uninvited, confused and alone.
And I... just let her in.
The clock ticked somewhere in the background. 11:58.
I ran a hand down my face and whispered to the empty room, "Val, you’d kill me if you saw this."
And I couldn’t even argue that she’d be wrong for doing so.
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To be continued...