One -Minute CH 23

Miranda’s POV

I was drunk, no, I was beyond drunk. I didn’t even know how much I had drunk at that point.

One bottle, maybe two, maybe more? But the way everything around me was swirling, I figured it didn’t really matter.

What mattered was the fact that Damon was beside me, sitting across the table in that stupid, charming way of his, pretending to be unaffected by the drunken mess that I had become.

“You know, you’re a lightweight,” Damon teased, his voice smooth and full of amusement. “I thought you were tougher than that.”

I glared at him, a little too forcefully. “I’m fine,” I slurred, reaching for the bottle again. It wasn’t that I wanted to drink more; I just didn’t know how to stop.

The alcohol was making the world seem softer, kinder, and I could pretend for a moment that I didn’t have to face the overwhelming thoughts in my head. The wedding, the pressure, the future, everything.

“You keep saying that,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “But you look like you’re about to pass out any second.”

I narrowed my eyes, but it was hard to hold my glare steady. “I’m not. I’m… fine,” I repeated, but this time, my words were laced with a little less confidence.

We sat there in a comfortable silence for a while, the clink of ice in our glasses the only sound between us.

Damon was playing it cool, but I could tell he was watching me carefully. It was as if he was trying to figure out what was going on inside my head, and maybe I was giving him too much credit, but I swore that every now and then, he looked at me with a hint of concern in his eyes.

“You know, in two weeks, we’re supposed to get married,” I said, almost as an afterthought. The words slipped out without me meaning to say them.

Damon raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk crossing his face. “Oh, are we?” His voice was teasing, like he was amused by the very idea.

I laughed, though it came out slurred. “Yeah, apparently. I didn’t realize we were on a countdown. Maybe we should make a list of things to do. Like… figure out how we’re going to survive the rest of our lives together.” I snorted at my own words, but I didn’t even know why it was funny. Maybe because I was too drunk to care.

Damon chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re really something, Miranda.” His eyes softened for a split second, the amusement fading. “We’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so I just picked up my glass and downed the rest of my drink in one go. The burn was comforting, though I knew I was pushing my limit.

As the night went on, Damon continued to make jokes, some fun, some almost flirtatious, but each one seemed to unravel something inside me. The more I drank, the more I let my guard down, and before I knew it, I was saying things I probably shouldn’t have.

“You know, Damon,” I said suddenly, my voice a little too loud and a little too raw, “I don’t really know how this is going to work. You and me, I mean. This… marriage thing.”

Damon gave me a look, his eyes searching mine as if trying to read me. “We’ll make it work,” he said quietly, his voice sincere in a way that made my chest tighten.

I didn’t know what else to say, so I just smiled and downed another glass.

Eventually, I couldn’t sit up straight anymore. My head was spinning, and I had the sudden, undeniable urge to lie down.

“Okay, okay,” Damon said with a small laugh, standing up and offering me a hand. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night. Let’s get you home before you pass out right here.”

I waved him off, but my vision was starting to blur, and the floor felt a little too unstable beneath me. “I’m fine,” I insisted again, but my voice was quieter this time, less sure.

Damon didn’t argue. Instead, he helped me stand, his arm strong around my waist, holding me steady as we walked out of the bar.

The cool night air hit my face when we stepped outside, and I took in a deep breath, trying to clear my head. But the more I tried, the fuzzier everything became.

“Let’s get you inside,” Damon said, his voice now full of concern. I could hear it in the way he spoke, the way he guided me to his car, ensuring I didn’t trip over my own feet.

His hand never left my back, supporting me, even though I was too stubborn to admit I needed the help.

The drive was a blur. I remember bits and pieces, Damon’s voice talking to me, the soft hum of the car, the flicker of streetlights as we passed.

But I couldn’t hold on to anything concrete. The world felt like it was slipping through my fingers, and I just let it.

When we reached my house, Damon helped me out of the car, and I could barely stand. I was swaying on my feet, my arms hanging at my sides.

“Okay, time for bed,” Damon said, his tone gentle but firm.

I barely registered his words as he led me inside and up the stairs. The world tilted sideways, and I had to lean against him for support, though I didn’t want to admit it.

He pushed open my bedroom door and guided me to the bed. As he helped me sit, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed against the pillows.

Damon crouched down in front of me, his hands moving to remove my shoes. He was so calm, so… gentle, and I wanted to be annoyed, but instead, it was almost comforting.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” he said, standing up. “I’m just going to make sure you’re tucked in first.”

I grabbed his wrist before he could turn away, my mind clouded with desire and need.

“Wait,” I murmured, my voice unsteady. “I want you. Right now.”

“What?”

“I want you.”

He paused, looking at me with amusement in his eyes. “Are you sure about that? You’re a little… drunk, Miranda. You’ll probably regret it tomorrow.”

I shook my head, trying to focus on him, to show him that this wasn’t just the alcohol talking. “No,” I said, my voice more certain now. “I want you. Please.”

Damon let out a soft laugh, but there was something in it,something tender, but knowing, like he could see straight through my drunken haze, like he wanted me too. “You won’t regret it, huh?”

I nodded, my heart pounding. “No, I won’t.”

Without another word, Damon’s hands found my face, and he kissed me. Slow at first, but the more he kissed me, the more I wanted him.

The alcohol had given me the courage to do something I had been too scared to admit to myself before.

I pulled him closer, straddling him as I kissed him again, my hands finding the buttons of his shirt, desperate to get closer to him.

He pulled back, just slightly, his eyes darker now. “Are you sure?” he asked again, his voice rougher, but there was no hesitation in his touch.

I didn’t answer with words. Instead, I kissed him harder, deeper, moaning softly in delight as his hands roamed over my body.

The night faded into a blur of heat and touch, Damon taking control, guiding us both into something that felt too intense to be real. It wasn’t just the alcohol anymore. It was me. I wanted him, needed him, in a way I couldn’t explain.