CHAPTER 9

It was late, nearly 11 p.m., and the quiet hum of the television was the only sound in Mia's living room. Mia had retreated to her room, preparing for a late-night drive with Noah, leaving me alone. Suddenly, her phone began ringing insistently. I glanced at the screen and saw Xavier's name flashing.

"MIA! Xavier's calling!" I called out, my voice echoing down the hall.

"Just answer it!" came her distracted reply.

I picked up the phone, expecting the usual irritation. Instead, a polite but concerned voice greeted me. "Hello, ma'am? I'm calling from Vincy Club. Your number was the last one dialed from this phone. Your friend is quite inebriated and surrounded by... quite a few women. Could you please come pick him up?"

I sighed. "Yes, I'll be there in ten minutes. Thanks for letting me know."

I switched off the TV, pulled on my shoes, and called out to Mia, "I'll be back in about thirty minutes!"

I grabbed my car keys and drove to the club. As soon as I stepped inside, the strobe lights and pounding bass nearly overwhelmed me. Pushing through the crowd, I made my way to the bar where I spotted Xavier. He was practically draped over the counter, a magnet for the scantily clad women around him.

"Excuse me, excuse me!" I pushed through the throng of women, the overpowering scent of perfume almost making me gag. Xavier was passed out, his head resting on the bar.

"Xavier Knight!" I called out, shaking him awake.

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at me, clearly disoriented. "Jones? What are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you," I snapped, struggling to keep my frustration in check. "Now get up, we're going."

With the bartender's help, I managed to get Xavier out of the club and into my car. As I drove, my mind was filled with exasperation. When we reached my apartment, I helped him out of the car, his arm draped over my shoulder. His unsteady steps almost knocked me off balance, but I managed to get him into the building.

Once inside, I all but dragged him to the couch, feeling every bit of his weight. I threw him down and took a moment to catch my breath. He began mumbling incoherently, his words barely understandable.

"Why didn't she tell me she was getting bullied? Jones, it hurts so much that I wasn't there when she needed me. I'm such a bad brother," he lamented, a tear slipping down his cheek.

My heart softened at his vulnerability. I realized that his drunken state was a result of his guilt and pain. I went to the kitchen, fetched a glass of water, and returned to him.

"Xavier, drink this. It'll help," I said gently, handing him the glass.

He took the water and gulped it down. As he settled back on the couch, I turned to leave, but before I could, he grabbed me and pulled me onto his lap. My breath caught in my throat as his warm, firm body pressed against me.

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot and uneven. "You smell incredible, Jones," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. His arms tightened around my waist, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

My heart raced as I struggled to keep my composure. I gently pushed him away, standing up to put some distance between us. "Alright, that's enough," I said, my voice trembling slightly. I grabbed a blanket and covered him, adjusting the recliner to ensure he didn't fall off the couch.

I retreated to my bedroom, trying to push away the heat that lingered from the brief, intense moment we had shared. Despite my best efforts, the memory of his touch and the heat of his breath against my neck lingered in my mind, leaving me restless.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through my window, and I awoke to find it was already 11:30 a.m. I shuffled into the living room, stretching as I went. Xavier was still asleep, sprawled on the couch. I headed to the kitchen to prepare some hangover soup and toast for him.

An hour later, Xavier stumbled into the kitchen, clutching his head and groaning. I watched him with a mixture of amusement and irritation.

"Good morning, jerk. Sleep well?" I teased, leaning against the counter.

He looked at me, his voice rough. "What happened last night?"

"Oh, nothing much," I said, keeping my tone light. "You got wasted, I had to drag your heavy body back here, and you spent the night cursing me out. It was a blast."

His face fell as he processed my words. "I'm really sorry for causing all that trouble."

I couldn't help but smile at his genuine apology. "Relax, I was just messing with you. I didn't expect you to take it so seriously."

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You never change, Jones."

"There's hangover soup on the counter," I said, pointing to the stove. "And toast."

We settled on the couch, eating in companionable silence. I broke the quiet, "You should talk to Amelia. She might have had her reasons for not sharing her troubles, but she needs to know how much you care."

Xavier sighed, nodding in agreement. "I'll talk to her today."

"Good. And don't forget to pick up your bike from the club. If you leave it there, someone's bound to steal it."

He gave me a serious look. "Nobody touches what's mine, Jones."

I chuckled, handing him his bike keys. "As you say."

As he left, I couldn't help but smirk. Despite the chaos of the night, something had shifted between us. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Xavier Knight than met the eye.

Xavier's POV

After retrieving my bike from the club, I made my way home, still grappling with the events of the previous night. Ava's words lingered in my mind, and as she had suggested, I reached out to Lia. Our conversation was deeply emotional; we embraced and promised to be open with each other from now on. The sincerity of the moment was touching and left me feeling a bit more at ease.

However, as I stepped into the shower, letting the hot water relax my muscles, my thoughts drifted back to the previous night's debacle. The vivid recollection of my drunken antics, particularly my behavior around Ava, made me wince.

"Oh, for crying out loud!"

I cursed myself internally for my ridiculous actions. I had never imagined I would act so recklessly.

The next day at college, I was met with an unexpected scene. A group of students was gathered around, laughing uproariously. As I approached, Noah, with a wide grin, said, "Ava, after watching this video, I can only say, 'Great job, Ava. No one else would've done that.'"

"LMAO," Noah burst into laughter again.

"What video?" I asked, my curiosity piqued.

Ava walked over and showed me the video on her phone. It was footage of me, heavily intoxicated, sitting in Ava's car while she drove. The video captured our conversation, which went as follows:

In the Video:

"So, what's your name?" she asked.

"Xavier Knight."

"No, your name is Stupid Xavier Idiotic Knight."

"My name is Stupid Xavier Idiotic Knight. I didn't realize I had such a long name," I slurred.

"Will you repeat after me?" she asked.

"Okay, teacher."

"Ava Jones is the world's most beautiful girl."

"Ava Jones is the world's most beautiful girl."

"Xavier is an idiot."

"Xavier is a dumb idiot."

"Xavier is a pig."

"Xavier is a pig." And then I passed out.

End of Video

"AVA JONES, DELETE THAT VIDEO RIGHT NOW!" I demanded, my frustration evident.

"Never," she retorted, snatching her phone from my hands and darting away.

I immediately began to chase her. Despite her swift movements, I was determined to catch up. As I eventually cornered her, I yanked her toward me, our bodies colliding. I smirked, relishing the proximity.

"Delete the video, Jones," I ordered.

"No," she stubbornly replied.

"I said, delete it," I pressed, pulling her closer.

"N-O," she stuttered, our faces inches apart.

"You won't delete it?" I asked, my tone low and intense.

"Fine, jerk, I'll delete it," she finally conceded, pushing me away.

"Good," I said, feeling a sense of relief.

"By the way, I want you to come to my football match," I added.

"I'll definitely be there to support Noah," she replied, though my gaze fixed on her. "And you too," she clarified.

"What about Noah and you coming to our basketball match the day after tomorrow?" she asked, surprising me. She had never asked me to attend her match before.