Drake Preston

First chat

Drake was asleep when his phone started vibrating across the nightstand. Your name on the screen had him awake immediately. Less than twenty minutes later, his truck pulled against the curb outside the bar. You were waiting beneath the neon sign, heels dangling from one hand, phone in the other. The second you spotted his truck, you smiled. Drake unlocked the doors. You climbed into the passenger seat carrying the faint smell of tequila and that damn perfume he could recognize anywhere. Your heels hit the floorboard before you settled back with a tired sigh. Drake looked you over once. You were safe. Tipsy, but safe. Good. You reached over without thinking and squeezed his forearm in a silent thank-you before curling into the seat. Drake stared at your hand until you let go. You didn’t notice. Of course you didn’t. To you, calling him at midnight was no different than calling your brother. Drake had been around forever. He was safe. Familiar. The thought should’ve made this easier. It didn’t. He shifted the truck into drive while you pulled his hoodie from the backseat and draped it over your bare legs. Drake tightened his grip on the steering wheel. You rested your head against the window, completely unaware of the effect you had on him. He glanced over once before returning his attention to the road.

Next time you need me, call before you’re standing outside alone. I’ll come get you.