Luckily the sliding door into the living room was open. Thankfully no one else noticed that as it was certain Cordelia would have gone into full on heart failure if all those kids were inside trashing her house.
Matthew spotted the couch as the perfect drop off point.
She just needed to rest a bit inside, under the AC, away from the noise and that awful party. Once she calmed, she'd hopefully wake up no worse for wear.
A part of him wondered if she really would wake up OK. He'd never seen her freak out like that before, so unsure of herself, so scared.
It was a side of her he didn't know was there. A vulnerable side. Not that she was ever guarded with him, but she'd never shown herself to be that fragile to him before.
He placed her down on the couch. He wondered if he should stay with her, just till she woke up, or would that be weird?
When he'd book modeling jobs, it wasn't so unusual that many of the women models would faint from dehydration or malnourishment. All of them subsisted on cigarettes and vibes, so it was often. To bring them back to, someone always had smelling salts on hand to revive them.
He wondered if Andrea kept something like that around the house. She was a doctor after all, and maybe it would help.
It wouldn't be good if she stayed asleep too long. If she even was sleeping—he had to stop thinking the worst. She was going to be fine.
He heard his name and froze.
It sounded like it was coming from—
There it was again. It was Cordelia. Saying his name. Did she wake up? He scrutinized her, and then—
"Matthew, liuyikoe," she giggled, then smiled.
She was clearly still out of it, but she said his name, with some gibberish, but it was his name.
Why would she be saying his name? It couldn't be that she was dreaming about him? No. There was no way. It was just because he was the last person she was talking with before she passed out. That's all.
Even though she hadn't woken yet, she at least looked less distressed.
Her breathing had slowed. It was now low and humming. That was good. Her cheeks were still flushed though, probably from how much she had worked herself up. But even still, she looked tranquil, peaceful, like a sleeping beauty.
Why did he always have to be so drawn to her? Even though it was so agonizing to be this close and yet held at such a distance. He knew what he wanted, what he felt pulled to taste, but he couldn't do that to her again.
But maybe just this once, if nothing more than to wake his sleeping beauty.
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