forever in repeat

He didn't move, didn't speak. He just stood there, his presence heavy and consuming, like a storm cloud that refused to break. Emily stared back, her heart pounding erratically in her chest, anticipation mingling with the fogginess in her mind.

Her fingers toyed with the edge of her glass before she nervously bit her lip. That small gesture, so unintentional.

David's jaw clenched. Something about that innocent gesture made his heart thump harder than it had any right to. His resolve wavered for a second, his thoughts slipping into dangerous territory before he managed to pull himself back.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to step back. The warmth in his chest was unwelcome, and he couldn't afford to let himself dwell on it.

Emily blinked in confusion, watching as he moved away from her. her hazy mind struggling to catch up with his sudden movement. She leaned forward on shaky elbows, nearly toppling her drink in the process.

"Hey," she slurred, leaning forward until her elbows nearly toppled the glass in front of her. She pouted, the expression exaggerated and childlike, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. "Gimme back my drink, David." Her voice wobbled, both pleading and demanding in a way only a drunken Emily could manage.

David glanced at her, his lips twitching with a mix of frustration and reluctant amusement. "You've had enough."

"No, I haven't!" she protested, shaking her head so violently that her hair whipped across her face. "I'm not even… hic! … drunk!"

David smirked despite himself. "Yeah, you're doing great," he deadpanned.

"C'mon," she whined, drawing out the word as she rested her chin on the table, her lower lip jutting out. "Please, David? Just one more? Pretty please?"

The way she looked at him, her big, glassy eyes paired with that ridiculous pout, was his undoing. Muttering a curse under his breath, he grabbed the bottle, poured her a small amount, and slid it over.

She looked so goddamn innocent and messy and—cute. Too fucking cute.

"There," he said. "Happy?"

Emily's face lit up like a kid who'd just been handed candy, a smile breaking through that was pure mischief. She grabbed the glass with unsteady hands and giggled. "Good boy," she teased before bursting into laughter, leaning back in her chair as if she'd just told the funniest joke in the world.

David froze, his jaw tightening. Her laughter was light and careless, so unlike his usual self-contained demeanor. He wanted to savor it, bottle it up, and keep it close. But instead, he pushed himself to stand, trying to regain some semblance of control.

As he walked over to her side, her laughter quieted, and she looked up at him, tilting her head in confusion.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost curious.

He crouched down and reached for her shoulder, gripping it gently but firmly. She winced, her brows furrowing.

"Oww, that hurts!" she exclaimed, her voice higher-pitched than usual. Her hand flew to cover his, and she looked at him with a mix of indignation and vulnerability.

David's eyes flickered with something—frustration? Amusement? Desire? He didn't know anymore. All he knew was that every single thing she did was driving him closer to the edge.

"You can't even stand," he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Before she could protest, he slid an arm under her knees and another behind her back, lifting her off the chair. She let out a surprised squeal, her hands flailing before clinging awkwardly to his shoulders.

"Put me down!" she protested, though her words lacked conviction. Her head lolled against his chest, and she blinked up at him with wide, glassy eyes. "I can walk, y'know. I'm not a baby."

"You can barely sit," he shot back, his voice low and strained.

Emily huffed, her breath warm against his neck. "You're such a grump, David. You should try smiling more. Life's not all… all…" She trailed off, her drunken brain struggling to find the word. "All serious and stuff."

David didn't respond. His focus was on getting her to the car before he lost what little control he had left. His mind raced, battling between what he wanted and what he knew was right. She was drunk. Vulnerable. And the last thing he'd ever do was take advantage of her.

When they reached the car, he gently placed her on the passenger seat, ensuring she was secure before closing the door. Emily shifted restlessly, her movements unintentionally provocative as she tried to find a comfortable position.

"Stop fucking moving," David muttered, his voice strained as he walked around to the driver's side. He got in, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Emily turned to him, her gaze hazy but curious. "Where are we going?" she slurred, her head tilting in that same goddamn adorable way that made him want to punch something—or kiss her.

"Somewhere safe," he replied curtly, starting the engine.

His initial thought was to take her to his house, but as he glanced at her again, the idea instantly became a bad fucking plan. Her presence was too intoxicating, her laughter too sweet, and her scent too damn inviting. He didn't trust himself, not like this.

"Change of plans," he muttered under his breath, making a sharp turn.

Emily giggled beside him, oblivious to the inner turmoil raging in his head. She reached out, poking his arm lightly. "You're so serious. Relax a little, David. Life's too short to be all… grumpy."

David clenched his jaw, his patience wearing thin. "Emily, you're drunk. Just sit still and stop talking."

"But you like it when I talk," she countered, her voice soft and teasing.

He cursed under his breath again, gripping the wheel tighter. "Fuck, Emily. You don't even know what you're doing to me right now."

Her laughter filled the car, light and carefree, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside him. David's mind raced, weighing his options. He couldn't take her to his house, but he also couldn't leave her like this.

A motel. It was the only solution. He could drop her off, make sure she was safe, and get the fuck out before he did something he'd regret.

Pulling into the motel parking lot, David parked the car and turned to her. She was already half-asleep, her head resting against the window. Her innocence, her vulnerability—it was too much.