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William’s brain came alive despite his drunkenness when Eliza asked him to join her in bed. He stepped toward her and scanned her whole face, trying hard to commit this moment to memory with his whiskey-fogged head. His gaze left her face, and he began analyzing her hair to see how it was upswept. Reaching for the clip she’d used, he paused to send her a questioning glance. She dreamily nodded her head, her eyes glazed from the wine. He frowned only for a moment as he figured out how to untuck it and gently pulled on it. Her blonde locks fell to her shoulders in a luxurious cascade. She smiled and swayed a bit.
William wanted to kiss her again but suddenly became self-conscious of his breath. Their first kiss was impulsive, and he did it without thinking. This time was different, and he was feeling the pressure. Eliza stared expectantly with a goofy, drunken grin.
"Are you goin' t' kiss me, or not?" she slurred.
William lifted one corner of his mouth. "I think I'd like to brush my teeth first."
"Mm," she replied, pursing her lips in agreement, her facial expressions exaggerated from the drink, "Good idea. Oh!" Eliza's eyes opened wider as an idea came to her. "I'll text Rosie to let Skip out when she gets off shift. Poor doggie will need to pee." Eliza's neighbour will be delighted to hear Eliza had gone out and enjoyed herself and with William, no less, she thought.
"Hm, yes, do that," William smiled; his hand had gone to her waist and gently pulled her to his room.
Eliza wobbled with him, kicking off her shoes just inside the doorway. Leaving her near the bed, he moved as briskly as his drunk self would allow, a thrill surging through him, knowing that Eliza was in his bedroom.
The bright bathroom light made him squint as he reached for his toothbrush. Using a glob of paste, he brushed his mouth to within an inch of his life. Clumsily, he knocked the metal cup holding his brush and razor onto the tile floor, causing a loud crash. He expected Eliza to holler a scathing retort for him destroying the world from the bedroom, but he heard nothing.
Stepping into the bedroom, he saw that she had laid back on the foot of the bed, still dressed and her legs dangling over the edge. William approached her in time to see the phone in her hand deliver Rosie's message: "Go, girl! Skip is in good hands. Hope you are too. 😉"
William smirked at her neighbour's cheeky response. He gently nudged Eliza's foot, "Hey. Rosie has Skip covered."
"Mm," came the sleepy answer.
"You look asleep," he said. "Mm," was all he got.
"Are you awake?"
"YEP," came her forced, louder response, but no movement to indicate that she was.
William chuckled. "You don't look awake."
Eliza inhaled deeply and frowned. "Mmm, no, m'wake," she mumbled, proving she barely was.
William smiled wryly. Rubbing his neck, he also was tired and figured, given their current states, sleep might be best. "We're both too drunk to really be of much use to each other. Why don't you sleep here? I'll take the couch," he suggested. Besides, he thought, I'd like her to remember our first time, not fumble under the covers like a couple of drunk teenagers.
Eliza frowned but didn't open her eyes. "No, stay with me," she pleaded.
"I cannae sleep next to you naked," William replied, his voice strained, imagining the possibility.
"Mm, ok, need jammies," she mumbled.
"Oohkay," he said and stumbled to his dresser to rummage through a t-shirt drawer. Grabbing one, he turned and tossed it to her. "Here. If we can't have drunken sex, then I'll make you wear this shirt."
It landed on Eliza's torso. She raised her head to see what it was and sent him an acerbic glare. He grinned triumphantly at her.
"I'll let you change," he said and grabbing his sweat pants, he left the bedroom.
After changing in the bathroom, William went to the kitchen to grab two glasses of water. When he returned to the bedroom, he hesitated before entering. "Eliza? You decent?" No answer. "Eliza?" He dared to peek from the doorway.
Eliza was curled up in his T-shirt, head on one of his pillows. She looked peaceful and sweet.
Walking in to place the water glasses on each bedside table, he noticed Eliza's blue dress in a heap on the floor. He tilted his head and smiled ironically—not precisely the scenario he had envisioned involving her dress on his floor. He stepped over the dress and took care not to spill the water. Returning to the discarded clothing, he bent to pick it up and wobbled when he stood up too quickly, reinforcing his decision not to make love with her tonight. As he shook the wrinkles from it, he noticed something: pressing his face into the bodice, he inhaled deeply. There was a faint scent of roses, Eliza's favourite perfume. He sighed and inhaled again, then carefully laid the dress over the old armchair Henry gave him.
He stumbled to his side of the bed and slid in next to her. With her knees in a fetal position, William tried to snuggle as close as he could. Her creamy smooth thighs were exposed; he wanted to touch her there, but she was pretty drunk, and he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stop. Instead, he pulled the covers over her, and she responded with another, "Mmm."
"Go to sleep, Eliza," he said.
"But we were gon' to sleep 'gether," she mumbled without opening her eyes.
"Aye," William responded softly, "that's what we're doin'."
He couldn't help but reach out and tuck her blonde curls behind her ear. Eliza let out a big sigh and snuggled deeper into the mattress. William noted her face relaxed even further, and her breathing became even. She had fallen asleep.
William smiled and kept his hand wrapped around her back. Closing his eyes, he figured he'd spend the night too aware of her to rest. But within minutes, their breathing synced, and he drifted into a contented slumber.