I knew that she said those three words because she was drunk. I knew, rationally, that even if she did mean them, she meant them in the friendly way. But even knowing all that, I couldn’t help but feel like I was playing a dangerous game by being here.

There was no way I could leave her in this state. She was obviously drunk enough that she might actually choke on her own vomit if I left her alone. I could not, in good conscience, leave her like this. But I had to get back in the next few hours or Boomer would start worrying about me.

I let out a frustrated sigh. I’d stay and keep an eye on her for a couple of hours. If she seemed to be breathing okay and not vomiting anymore, I would leave.

I looked around the room for a comfortable place to sit, where I could put my injured leg up to avoid swelling, the way I did every night for the last few weeks. But the only place to sit was a small, almost child-sized wooden chair next to a small desk.

I would just sit on the bed and prop my leg up with a couple of pillows from the other bedrooms. When I gathered three more pillows, one for my back and two for my leg, I scooted in next to Laurel and took out my phone to google some parts I needed for my Mustang. But that only took a few minutes, and I soon found myself deciding between putting my phone away or finding something on Netflix I could watch with subtitles and no sound.

Of course, I spent nearly thirty minutes browsing the Netflix recommendations and found nothing remotely interesting that I hadn’t already watched. As I tucked my phone back into my pocket, I watched Laurel for a bit, wondering if she’d had a good birthday. By the looks of it, it was a regular barn burner.

“I did get you a gift,” I whispered, barely loud enough for even myself to hear, so I was a bit shocked when she responded with a groan as she rolled over to face me.

“I got a dildo,” she murmured as she snuggled up closer to me. “Merry birthday.”

I covered my mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “I’ll bring your present tomorrow.”

As the minutes wore on, I still didn’t know if she was asleep. She was definitely breathing, but she was quiet as a mouse. I decided to perform a test.

“What’s your favorite flower?” I whispered, even softer than before.

“When I got married, I put my mom in charge of the flowers,” she replied, her eyes still closed as she continued. “My only request was that there had to be lots of peonies. They’re my second favorite, after the middlemist red camellia, but those don’t grow in America. They’re the rarest flower in the world.”

“Rarest flower in the world? Why am I not surprised?”

But she wasn’t finished. “I had too much to drink at the reception, so I asked my mom to come with me to the bathroom… to hold my dress up while I peed.” She laughed the way a child would laugh after saying the word pee, then she continued. “In the ladies’ room, there were vases with pink peonies on the counter. It warmed my heart, you know? It warmed my heart to know my mom had put so much effort into her only task. So in the bathroom stall, I got real sappy and thanked her for being the best mother in the world. Then, I tried to pull down my panties, while my mom held up the train of my dress. But as I tried to sit down, I missed the toilet seat completely. My mom… My mom said, ‘Laurel, honey, that’s not the toilet seat. If you relieve yourself there, you’re going to peony.’”

I laughed with her, though I felt a slight pang of jealousy at the mention of her wedding. As soon as this thought occurred to me, Laurel grabbed my arm, wrapping her arms around it as if it were a teddy bear. Then she rested her head on my bicep and fell asleep.

I shook my head as I realized I would have to wait for her to change positions before I could leave. Shit. I’d have to wait for her to change positions before I could even move. That ruled out using my phone to keep me occupied, since it was pretty tightly wedged underneath Laurel’s breast.

I could do this. I could keep myself entertained without a phone or a television or a dog or a project. I just had to think of something. Memories of my time in Afghanistan popped up immediately. Shaking my head, I realized I couldn’t allow my mind to wander back there, not without my therapist’s guidance. I’d have to keep my mind occupied some other way.

Fucking hell. All I could think of was how fucking good it felt to be lying next to Laurel. How fucking much I wished I could do this every night, minus the alcohol.

But part of me wondered if I really wanted to fall asleep next to Laurel every night. Maybe I just wanted to fall asleep next to someone. Anyone. I never slept alone in the military. I always had a bunkmate, whether it was boot camp or a foxhole in the desert. And I’d spent plenty of nights in the company of beautiful women over the last few years.

But I never allowed myself to get close to any of those girls, until Laurel came along. I’d basically spent the last three years alone, and I was so fucking over it.

I took a few deep breaths to relax, practicing the exercises I’d learned from the PTSD Coach app. Soon, my muscles weren’t coiled so tightly and I began to think more clearly.

This little encounter with Laurel didn’t mean anything. She obviously still loved her husband, or she wouldn’t need to get this drunk on their first birthday apart.

I took another deep breath.

Tomorrow, I would give her the present I’d made for her, but I wouldn’t bring up anything that happened tonight. Because none of this meant anything. It was a drunken conversation. In the morning, I would respect Laurel’s boundaries and go back to being her friend.

But a few more deep breaths later, I made the dire mistake of falling asleep. And when I woke, I thought perhaps I was lucid dreaming. Because I was fairly certain that Laurel was unfastening the button on my jeans.

I shook my head to wake myself, but she was still there, naked from the waist down and straddling my thighs as she unzipped my pants. “Laurel, what are you doing?”

She didn’t respond as she pulled my boxer briefs down a few inches, enough for my rock hard erection to spring up near her face. She giggled as she licked the tip and I almost fucking exploded from that one lick.

“Laurel, are you awake? Oh, fuck!” I whispered through clenched teeth as she took my dick into her mouth. “Laurel…”

She responded with a moan as she bobbed her head up and down a few times. As she teased the tip of my cock with her tongue, I tried to move her hair out of the way so I could see her face. Was she awake or in a trance or… Was this really happening?

But as I began to move her hair, she quickly slid up to mount me. I let out a guttural groan as I slid into her.

She licked her finger and moaned as she rubbed her clit while she rode me. I grabbed her hips to hold her steady as I thrust into her from underneath, but her pussy felt so fucking good, I was afraid I was going to explode after just a couple of minutes.

I quickly sat up, wrapping one arm around her waist as I turned her onto her back without breaking contact. She let out a throaty laugh as I licked the salt from her neck and slowed my pace so I could last longer. But she seemed hellbent on coming fast, sliding her hand between us so she could touch herself some more.

I moved her hand out of the way and slid out of her. As I slid down and put my mouth on her pussy, my dick got painfully hard. She tasted so fucking good. Better than I imagined.

She writhed on the mattress as I licked her clit. When her legs began to tremble, and I was certain she was about to come, I slid back inside her. Grinding my pelvis into her clit with each slow thrust, I managed to last another four or five minutes before she screamed, “I’m gonna come!”

“So am I. Come with me, baby.”

Her pussy clenched around my cock as I let go inside her. “Oh, God. I’m coming, Jack! I’m coming!”

My stomach bottomed out. I quickly slid my still-twitching dick out of her, covering the head to catch the rest of the cum in my hand. Not that catching the rest in my hand really mattered at this point.

My other hand grabbed her face as I forced her to look me in the eye, but it was still too dark to see clearly. “Laurel, it’s me. It’s Isaac.”

She was silent for a long moment, then she gasped. “Oh, my God... Oh, my God. What have I done?”