CHAPTER 11:ANDREW?

DREW.

After what felt like an eternity of aimless driving and frantic phone calls to people I never thought I'd reach out to, I finally stumbled upon the elusive "Pops Parlor". The establishment was a far cry from the seedy dives I'd imagined, instead exuding a charming, laid-back vibe. By day, it masqueraded as a quaint bar, but as night descended, it transformed into a risqué strip club, notorious for its scandalous allure. I still couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I, of all people, had ended up in the infamous Game's Village, hot on the heels of a furious Maya. The morning's events had unfolded like a surreal dream, and I was still struggling to process the reality of it all.

As I glanced at the clock, the neon digits glowing brightly in the dimly lit room, I noted the time: 7:35 pm. It wouldn't be long before the evening crowd descended upon Pops Parlor, eager to indulge in the night's revelries. I, for one, had no desire to stick around and become a part of the establishment's notorious nightlife. As the son of a two-time governor, my presence here was already a liability; being seen alone in such a seedy setting was a PR nightmare waiting to happen.

I made my way through the smoky air, navigating towards the bar where Maya sat, her voice rising in a heated argument with the bartender. "I'm almost twenty years old, for crying out loud!" she exclaimed, her words slurred slightly from the obvious effects of alcohol.

"I'm an adult, capable of handling my own drinks!" The bartender, a gruff-looking man with a thick beard, stood firm, his arms crossed over his chest. "Sorry, sweetheart, but you're cut off. You've had enough for tonight."

The bartender, a grizzled veteran of countless similar altercations, remained unmoved by Maya's threats, his expression a mask of indifference. But when she started ranting about reporting him to his boss, I decided it was time to intervene before things escalated further. I dropped a few bills on the counter, muttering a hasty "Sorry about her" as I made my way towards Maya.

She looked up at me, her eyes glassy and unfocused, and exclaimed, "Whoa! Is that you? Nope! I must be seeing things, you're not here!"

She tried to stand up, but her legs buckled beneath her, and she stumbled. I rushed to catch her, wrapping my arms around her waist to steady her. How drunk is this girl? I wondered, taken aback by the sheer magnitude of her intoxication.

As I held her upright, Maya gazed up at me, her eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to focus. "What are you doing here?" she slurred, her words barely intelligible. I sighed inwardly, wondering how I was going to get her out of this place without making a scene.

I muttered under my breath, "To get you, obviously," the words barely audible even to myself. Maya stumbled towards the exit, her legs wobbly and uncoordinated, and asked, "How did you find me, Drew?" I raised an eyebrow, amused by the slip-up. Maya never called me Drew, not even by mistake. It was a term of endearment she reserved for...well, no one, actually.

As we stepped outside into the cool evening air, Maya giggled and made funny faces at passersby who stared at her in concern. I smiled, relieved that the alcohol hadn't completely extinguished her cheeky spark.

"Okay, that's enough!" I said, laughing, as I led her towards my car. "Come on, let me take you home."

But Maya resisted, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and determination. "N-no home!" she slurred, shaking her head vigorously. "They worry." Her words were laced with a deep-seated anxiety, and I frowned, wondering what she meant. Who would worry about her? And what were they worried about?

Maya's alarm was palpable as she spoke, her eyes darting nervously around us. I inferred that she was worried about her friends seeing her in this state, and I couldn't blame her. But where could I take her? My place was out of the question, and the Villa was even more off-limits. I was at a loss, way out of my depth in this situation.

I hesitated for a moment before dialing a number that I hoped would yield a solution. The voice on the other end picked up quickly, and I forced a casual tone. "Hey!" I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Drew, is that you?" The guy at the other end asked a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Yeah," I replied, adopting a relaxed demeanor. "What's up, dude?" I asked, stalling for a moment before getting to the point. "Look, I'm in a bit of an...er...situation, and I need a place to crash tonight, man," I said, injecting my voice with sincerity. I held my breath, hoping my friend would come through without asking too many questions.

My friend's reassuring words, "No worries, man. I've got you," were a balm to my frazzled nerves. The 'ding!' of my iPhone signaled an incoming text, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I read the address he'd sent. I thanked him profusely before ending the call, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

I turned to Maya, who was still leaning against the car, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "Alright, come on, tipsy!" I said, trying to inject some levity into the situation. To my surprise, she went willingly, without any protest this time. I silently prayed that she'd remain calm for the rest of the night.

As we drove, Maya's voice was barely above a whisper, her words slurred and laced with sadness. "You can make fun of me now, you know?" she said meekly, her eyes downcast. I was taken aback by the depth of her sorrow.

"Why would I do that?" I asked, trying to keep my tone gentle.

She glanced at me sleepily, her eyes welling up with tears. "Because I deserve everything that happened to me? Go ahead, tell me how much of a mess I am. I don't blame you for hating me."

Her words were like a punch to the gut, leaving me breathless and aching to comfort her. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, hold her close, and shield her from all the pain and heartache she'd endured. The sadness etched on her face was almost too much to bear.

"I don't hate you, Maya," I said, trying to reassure her, but she laughed - or at least, attempted to. The sound was more akin to a hyena's cackle, a harsh, mocking noise that sent a pang through my chest.

As I pulled up to the small building, I muttered under my breath, "I could never hate you."

My host for the night, a guy with a sly grin, walked towards me as I helped Maya out of the car. She was barely standing, her legs wobbly and uncoordinated. I took the keys from him with a nod of gratitude, trying to ignore the knowing look he was giving me. It was a look that said he knew exactly why I needed a place to crash for the night, and it made my skin crawl. Get your mind out of the gutter, man, I silently chastised him, as I led Maya into the apartment.

I mentally defended myself against my host's unspoken insinuation. I don't need to get a girl drunk to get her attention, I thought with a hint of arrogance. I'm Andrew David, after all - the quintessential ladies' man. Girls flock to me like bees to honey, and it's not just because of my wealth or family name. I'm the total package: charming, handsome, and confident. And let's be real, who can resist a mouth-watering chick magnet like myself?

But as I gazed at Maya, I knew I had to tread carefully. She was a different story altogether. Even in her inebriated state, she still managed to convey her disdain for me.

"Yessir...you do...you say mean things to me all the time," she slurred, her words slightly intelligible. She let out a loud burp, pausing mid-sentence, and I couldn't help but chuckle at her efforts to enunciate. Despite her drunken state, she still tried to maintain some semblance of dignity, and I found that oddly endearing.

How cute! Even when she's completely drunk and looks like a mess she still makes my heart skip.

As Maya's body made contact with the bed, she mumbled incoherently, "Head hurts...needs sleep!" I gently removed her shoes and tucked her feet under the duvet, trying to make her as comfortable as possible. Despite the chaos of her day, she deserved a peaceful night's rest.

As I attempted to tuck the duvet around her neck, Maya's hand shot out and grasped my right hand, her fingers wrapping around mine with a gentle urgency. "Stay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. My heart skipped a beat as I felt my resolve crumble. I was a goner.

Gosh, I'm so whipped! I thought, chuckling wryly to myself. Okay, here goes nothing. Don't overthink this, Drew. She's drunk and doesn't know what she's doing. She would've never asked you to stay by her side if she wasn't completely wasted. But a small, treacherous part of me wished that she did mean it, that she did want me by her side. Maya doesn't like you, I reminded myself sternly, trying to shake off the foolish hope that had taken root in my chest. But as I looked down at her peaceful face, I couldn't help but wonder...what if.

As I gazed at Maya's serene face, I was struck by her vulnerability. She looked as fragile as a dove, her delicate features softened by the gentle rise and fall of her chest. It was a far cry from the tough, armor-plated exterior she usually wore like a badge of honor or the sharp, piercing glare that seemed to slice through me whenever we crossed paths.

But now, in slumber, Maya's defenses were down, and I was privy to a rare, unguarded glimpse of her. Her arm was wrapped tightly around mine, her fingers clutching my sleeve as if her very life depended on it. I felt a pang in my chest, a mix of tenderness and longing that I couldn't quite explain.

I let out a soft sigh, resigned to a sleepless night ahead. "This is going to be a very long night," I muttered under my breath, carefully settling in beside her on the bed, trying not to disturb her peaceful slumber.