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We stumble through the front door. Well, mostly I stumble. But I don't drop the box of desserts. So it's all good.

Somewhere between taking off Eric's jacket and shutting the front door, he wraps an arm around me, his face inches away from mine, "It's so quiet here," I say, looking down when we touch noses.

"That would be Violet," he replies, taking the box away from me. My bladder squeezes and I giggle. How awkward would it be if I pissed myself?

"I have to pee," I blurt out, placing a hand on my stomach. Eric smiles at me through the darkness, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.

"You know where the toilet is."

The bathroom mirror shows me a reflection of a completely different person. She has a messy long bob, plain lips and smudged eye make-up. I groan internally, rubbing away the black mascara under my eyes. I wonder how long I've looked like this for. Couldn't have been too long.

Once I am satisfied with how my make-up looks, I wash it all away. There's no point of keeping it on. Not really. I have nobody to impress. No really, nobody. Eric wouldn't notice if I had a watermelon on my head. The looks he has been giving me tonight made sweat pool between my legs. I definitely don't need make-up. Plus, it's starting to irritate my eyes anyway.

I fix my hair and pull up the thin red straps of the dress over my shoulders. This dress is too big for me. I haven't noticed until now.

When I step out of the bathroom, my heels make a point of bringing attention. I take them off and feel my feet sticking to the wooden floor, carrying the footwear with one hand. The only light in this apartment seems to be coming from the living room. So I follow it like a moth.

Eric is standing in the middle of the room, his top buttons undone and his tie loosened. In his hand he has a glass of wine and in the other one: a TV remote. Netflix and chill? I'm down for that.

I put my shoes down near the door and smirk to myself. He senses my presence and turns around, black ink visible through his white shirt. Both of his sleeves are rolled up, and the geometric tattoos are more prominent than ever.

"Hey," I slur, walking up to him slowly. Eric hands me his glass and grabs another one off the coffee table. I notice that that's where the box of desserts is.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he grins at me and I grin back. We sip our wine at the same time. The TV is on mute and some criminal documentary is playing in the background. I put the wine down on the coffee table before Eric closes the gap between us, his hand pressing against my lower back. I bury my face in his shoulder, feeling his heat all around me. God, it's everywhere. And when he breathes against my ear... Agh!

I wrap my arms around his torso, the side of my face against his warm rising chest, "Do you feel like you know me better?"

I giggle quietly, "Not really. Well, kind of."

"That'll do," he whispers, arm snaking around my neck. I don't feel his hand anywhere because he is still holding his glass of wine.

I close my eyes, feeling the rush of alcohol weakening my knees. How much did I have to drink?

"Are you supposed to be drinking?" I ask, pulling away.

Eric's smile falters, eyes locking on mine. I elaborate.

"Oh, it's okay... I'll just get a taxi."

I can't say he doesn't look disappointed. Because he does. But before he can make a show of his brand new facial expression, that smile returns. I feel his lips on my forehead, "As you wish..."

We sit down on the couch, and by sit down I mean collapse. It feels so good to lay back on these soft cushions. Especially with a warm body next to you. He wraps both arms around me, pulling me so close that I almost sit in his lap. Not knowing what to do with my hands, I place them on his chest, feeling the bulging pecks underneath.

"What are you thinking about?" Somehow I miss the part where he kisses me on the lips. I literally miss it. It was a second long. It was just a peck. I felt it. But it felt like a short dream. And it starts fading away. So I lean in, pressing my lips against his. It lasts longer this time. He releases a low growl when I pull away.

"I... I don't know," I giggle, his stubble rubbing against my cheek, "About dessert?"

"Which dessert?"

"The chocolate dessert?"

Eric smiles, hand running over my cheek where he holds it, guiding me towards his mouth again. I laugh quietly as he deepens the kiss- and that is the moment I really start to feel the alcohol in my bloodstream.

Shut the fuck up. Stop laughing.

I grab his tie when something wet skids over my bottom lip. Then I gasp, leaning in far more urgently than before. One of his hands caresses my hip, not quite gripping it.

Eric kisses me deeper, threatening to leave bruises on my lips. I try to kiss him as hard as he is kissing me, but we all know how weak I am. I end up laying on my back, with a panting Eric on top of me, lips never leaving my lips. Until I turn my head. Then he just kisses me where he can. On my cheek, behind my ear, down my neck.

I hold his head, tangling my fingers in his thick hair. His grey orbs look up at me, blinking slowly, "You drive me crazy, Tris."

"I do?"

"Yes, you do."

He kisses me again, slower this time.

"Let's eat that dessert you wanted," he whispers, nose thumping against mine. I laugh (again), running a hand down his prickly face. He watches me, kissing my hand as it passes his lips.