S O P H I A H O N E Y

A LIGHT TAP on my shoulder pulls me out of the fog. "Soph," a voice says softly.

I groan, my head pounding like a drumline has set up shop in my skull. My brain feels like it's trying to detach itself and float away, leaving me behind in this godforsaken state. Why did I drink? What do people even see in alcohol? It's so, so terrible.

"Soph, wake up." There's a gentle shake now, and my eyes flutter open, but they're weighed down like someone stacked bricks on my lids.

“...Yes?” I mumble, my voice slurred, trying to place the familiar tone. My head tips lazily to the side, and I blink into the darkness.

“Open your eyes for me, Soph.” The voice is deeper now, closer. I give the tiniest shake of my head and sink back against the soft surface behind me. A chair? No… a car seat, maybe? Doesn’t matter—it’s comfortable, and that’s all I care about.

“My eyes are tired,” I protest, curling further into the seat. “Let me sleep. I’ll… leave your car tomorrow.” A giggle slips out as I press my cheek against the warm leather. It smells faintly of cologne—warm, clean, and oddly comforting.

“You’d rather sleep in the car?” the voice asks, almost amused.

“Mhm. It’s cozy here.”

There's a pause, and then the voice responds, deadpan. "So you don't want to sleep on a soft, comfy bed? Got it. Bye, then."

My eyes snap open at the word bed. I squint into the dim light, only to groan loudly when my vision clears. “Oh. It’s you,” I mutter, my disappointment loud enough to echo.

Theo’s standing outside the car, arms crossed, eyebrow arched in that smug way that makes me want to throw a shoe at him. “You were expecting someone else?” he asks, his lips twitching.

"Maybe," I slur, waving a hand dismissively. "Don't flatter yourself, Gray."

He chuckles and reaches in to help me up. “Alright, Sleeping Beauty. Let’s get you upstairs before you decide to make my car your permanent residence.”

“Your car smells nice,” I mumble as his arm slides around my waist. My steps stumble on the pavement, but he catches me easily, keeping me snug against his side.

"Thanks," he replies dryly, steering me toward the building entrance. "I'll add that to my list of compliments from drunk Sophia."

We step inside, and I immediately cringe at the bright lights in the lobby. "Too bright," I whine, burying my face against his chest to shield my eyes.

He freezes for half a second, then sighs. "You're lucky you're drunk," he mutters, adjusting his grip on me as we head toward the elevator.

When the doors slide open, I lean heavily against him, my cheek pressed against his shoulder. "You're... really warm," I note, my words slurring together.

"Yeah, that's what happens when you're alive," he replies, his tone laced with amusement. His arm tightens around my waist as he presses the button for our floor.

I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of his arm on me. This is nice, my drunken brain decides. But my sober self-oh, she'd probably bite his hand off if he tried this while I was coherent.

“Don’t get used to this,” I mumble. “One-time thing.”

“Noted,” Theo says lightly. “Let me know when you’re ready to walk on your own.”

“Yeah, sure. Give me, like… forever.”

The elevator dings, and I cling tighter. “Carry me,” I demand, arms looped around his neck.

“You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but I hear the smile in his voice as he scoops me up.

My arms loop lazily around his neck. “You owe me for this, Soph,” he says.

I hum, half-asleep against his shoulder. “Put it on my tab.”

By the time we reach my door, I’m barely conscious. My words are slurred and soft as I mumble, “It… doesn’t want to leave my tongue.” I almost whine.

"What doesn't want to leave your tongue?"

"The alcohol," I grumble, scrunching my nose at the mere thought of it. "How do you guys drink that stuff? I feel like I’m dying."

Theo’s laugh is soft, almost fond, and I feel his arm steady me as he unlocks the door. "Maybe next time, don’t go to parties."

I don’t bother replying. My head tilts to the side, and I’m practically shuffling my feet as he helps me inside. When we reach the bed, I flop onto it with a dramatic sigh, sinking into the mattress like it’s heaven itself.

"This bed," I moan into the pillow, "is the softest thing I’ve ever felt. It’s perfect. I think I’m in love."

A low chuckle comes from behind me. I peek up just enough to see Theo leaning against the wall, arms crossed, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

"Why are you still here?" I mumble into the pillow.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he walks over and crouches beside the bed. I feel his hands gently wrap around my ankles, and I tense without meaning to.

"Relax, Soph," he murmurs. "Just taking these off before you hurt yourself."

Carefully, he slips my heels off, one at a time, and sets them neatly by the wall. He moves slowly, like he’s worried I might topple over if he isn’t careful.

He straightens, and it looks like he’s about to leave. For some reason, the thought of being alone in the quiet feels heavier than the alcohol in my system.

"Do you… want to stay?" The words escape before I can stop them.

Theo pauses mid-step. His eyes meet mine, surprise flickering in them. "You want me to stay?"

"I think so." I try to sit up, but my head swims, and I collapse back down.

"Why?"

"Because I don’t want to be alone, happy?" I frown at him. "What’s your deal? Just sit and talk to me."

"Aren’t you tired?"

"I am," I admit with a small giggle, "but I don’t want to fall asleep yet. It’s too quiet here."

He stays quiet for a long moment. I sigh, deciding I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night. Then I hear his slow footsteps, like he’s debating with himself before finally giving in.

"The quiet’s not that bad," he says softly. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, I don’t. Back home, it was never this quiet." I stare at the ceiling for a moment before asking softly, "Theo?"

"Yeah?"

The mattress dips as he sits beside me, close enough that the warmth of him seeps through the blankets. I can’t see him in the dark, but I feel him there.

"What was it like when you first came here?"

"Do you mean moving into this apartment… or leaving Oakmare?"

"Both." My voice is already sleepy, but I want to hear his answer.

"It wasn’t bad," he says after a moment. "But it wasn’t good either."

His voice follows me into the edges of sleep, low and steady. Just before I drift off completely, I hear him chuckle softly and say, almost like a secret, "Goodnight, Sophie."

And then I’m gone—his voice the last, warm thing I take with me into my dreams.

●●●

My head feels like it’s about to explode the second I wake up, the pounding so brutal it almost wrings a whimper out of me. I groan, pressing a shaky hand to my temple while the room sways gently — no, violently — around me. My mouth feels dry enough to rival the Sahara, and there’s a sour taste on my tongue that makes me wish I could erase my entire digestive system.

Blinking through the haze in my vision, I force myself upright, every movement making the throb behind my eyes double in intensity.

How the hell did I even get here?

My gaze drifts toward the other side of the bed, my stomach lurching.

Was I really that drunk… or did something happen last night?

No. That’s ridiculous. I shake my head — instantly regretting it when the pain ricochets harder. Another groan escapes me as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and push myself up. The floor feels uneven under my feet, like I’m walking on a boat.

I shuffle toward the door, craving anything — anything — that might make this headache stop.

The light in the main room greets me like a personal attack. My eyes are barely open before the brightness stabs straight into my skull. I squint, then clamp them shut.

Someone, please, turn the lights off!

"Finally." Theo's voice cuts through the fog, startling me. "You're awake."

Peeking through my fingers, I find him leaning against the kitchen counter, one hand wrapped around a steaming mug, an amused smirk curving his mouth.

Something definitely happened last night… or he’s just enjoying himself at my expense.

Unfortunately, both options are equally irritating.

"Why are you smiling like that?" I rasp, my voice rough and sandpaper-thin. "It’s creepy. Cut it out."

He snorts. "So smiling is now a crime? I already miss drunk Sophie. At least she was cute."

He takes a slow sip of his drink, eyes glittering in satisfaction.

I limp toward the fridge, muttering under my breath, and yank the door open. Cold air brushes my face as I grab a bottle of water. But something he said sinks in, and I pause mid-reach.

"Wait." My brows pull together. "What do you mean you miss drunk Sophie?"

Theo’s smirk deepens. "What do you think I meant?"

My brain tries to dig through the fog. The last clear memories I have are being shot down by Scott — which I’ll absolutely pretend didn’t gut me when Monday rolls around — and snapping at Theo to leave me alone while I was already unraveling.

After that? Blank. Just the dim blur of one too many drinks, the burn of alcohol I had no business touching, and the faint impression of laughter — mine? His? Someone else’s?

This has to be him messing with me.

"I seriously have no energy for whatever stunt you’re trying to pull," I mutter, unscrewing the cap and downing half the bottle.

Theo steps forward without warning, his hand curling around mine to steal the bottle from my grip. "Now you’re making me regret not recording the whole thing," he says, shaking his head like I’m some tragic case.

"Hey—"

He ignores me, turning to fill a kettle with the water he just stole.

"What are you—"

"Relax." His voice is light, almost bored, as he reaches for a small glass jar from the cupboard.

The smell of herbs fills the air as he works, the sharp bitterness almost making me wrinkle my nose from across the counter. A few minutes later, he slides a steaming mug toward me.

I take it gingerly, eyeing the murky liquid. "What is this?"

"It’s not poison, if that’s what you’re thinking."

I glare at him over the rim. He just grins, hopping onto the counter like he owns the kitchen.

That’s when I notice he’s shirtless — and, apparently, annoyingly well aware of it. My gaze flickers, catching the lean lines of muscle, the defined cut of his chest. Heat crawls up my neck before I snap my eyes back to the cup.

"Seriously," I say, forcing my tone flat, "what is it?"

"It’s for your headache, Soph. You know, so you can stop looking like you fought a blender and lost."

Before I can think of a comeback, he hops down from the counter and closes the space between us in two easy strides.

"W-what are you doing?" My voice catches, the cup clutched tight in my hands as he stops just inches away.

He leans slightly forward, eyes locking onto mine with that infuriating glint of mischief. "Making sure you don’t spill it all over yourself," he says, low and almost teasing. "You’re still half-asleep."

"I'm fine," I mutter, stepping back, but the sudden proximity leaves me flustered.

He smirks, leaning down slightly. "Sure you are."

I push him back, my hand landing on his chest for the first time ever. My body betrays me, shuddering at how solid and warm he feels. The sudden closeness sends my nerves into overdrive, and I step around the counter, needing space. His eyes follow my every move, sharp and unrelenting.

My gaze drops to the mystery drink in the mug he set out. What's the worst that could happen? Without overthinking, I gulp it down. The taste hits me, and I grimace.

It's almost worse than the alcohol I had last night.

"What was that?" I set the mug down on the counter, my nose wrinkling. He grabs it, rinsing it out in the sink like it's no big deal.

"Liquid medicine," he says with a shrug, walking past me and flopping onto the couch like it's his personal throne. "Some of us don't like swallowing pills."

"Who said I can't swallow?" I cross my arms, instantly regretting the phrasing as it hangs in the air.

Theo raises an eyebrow, mirroring my posture with an infuriating smirk.

"You don't take meds, Soph. Maybe you forgot, but I definitely remember you hiding your pills in plant pots around your house."

I freeze. How the hell does he know that?

He leans back, like he's enjoying my shock. "I mean, you practically killed half your mom's plants. The smell of medicine probably haunted her garden."

My chest tightens. I've never told anyone about that. Not even Ryan, because if he found out, he'd never let me live it down. I'd have spent years groveling to keep him quiet.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about," I stammer, my voice weaker than I'd like.

Theo chuckles, "Sure you don't."

"Fine I do." I give up. "But how do you even know about that?"

Theo stretches out on the couch like he owns the place, arms draped casually over the back. "Because I saw you," he says, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"When?" I press, crossing my arms tighter. "You weren't even around that much."

It still surprises me that he even cared enough to notice me back then. Sure, he'd tease me or snatch my stuff, but that was mostly when Ryan was around.

"Every time I came to visit," he says like it's obvious. "I'd see you sneak off with your pills, and when no one was watching, you'd dump them in a pot. Honestly, you were terrible at hiding it."

I gape at him. "Why didn't you say anything to Ryan?"

His smirk softens, just enough to make me pause. "There was no need."

"No need?" I repeat, baffled. "You could've ratted me out to my brother and ruined my life, but you didn't?" why?

Theo sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. His expression turns smug again, but there's something mischievous in his eyes. "Nope. I had a better idea. I found a way to make you take them without you even knowing."

My jaw drops. "What are you talking about?"

"Think back, Soph," he says, leaning forward, his voice low and teasing. "All those times you drank your mom's soup, or the 'special smoothies' she made for you when you were sick."

Realization hits me like a truck. "You-"

He nods, biting back a laugh. "Yep. Every time I visited and saw you skipping your meds, I crushed them up and slipped them into your food or drinks. You never even noticed."

I stare at him, equal parts horrified and impressed. "You're unbelievable."

He shrugs, looking far too pleased with himself. "What can I say? I'm resourceful. And you're stubborn."

"You're lucky I didn't notice," I grumble, but deep down, I can't help the small flicker of gratitude.

Theo leans back again, giving me a wink. "Lucky for you, I'm always one step ahead."

This is going nowhere.

I roll my eyes, officially tired of looking at his smug face. Without another word, I turn on my heel and head back to my room. The pounding in my head hasn't let up, and all I want is to lie down and forget this entire morning.

But first, my phone.

I look around the room, checking the nightstand, under the pillows, even the floor, but it's nowhere. Frustrated, I step back into the living room. Theo is still lounging on the couch like he has nowhere else to be.

"Did the guys drop my phone when they brought me here last night?" I ask, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe.

He looks up from his spot on the couch, frowning. "Wait-you don't remember anything from last night?

I hesitate, crossing my arms. "Not really. All I remember is drinking..." and embarrassing myself by almost crying in front of a guy I barely even know." My cheeks heat as the memory trickles back, mortifying and blurry.

Theo's expression softens, but only for a second. Then he stands abruptly. "I'll be back."

"Wait-what? You're just leaving like that?" I ask, watching as he strides toward the door, shirtless.

He shrugs, already slipping on his shoes. "I'll be back in a minute. Don't miss me too much."

I huff, watching as he disappears out the door. True to his word, not even five minutes pass before he's back. He tosses my phone onto the bed, smirking as I catch it.

"Where was it?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

He pauses in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame as if he's about to leave again. "There weren't any guys. I brought you home last night."

"What?" I blink, not buying it for a second. "No, you didn't."

"Oh, I did," he says, that smug grin returning. "And you were all over me. Kept going on about how good I smelled and how warm I felt."

I stare at him, horrified. "You're lying."

He tilts his head, his grin widening. "Am I?"

"Yes!" I shout, clutching my phone like it's going to save me. "That's a lie!"

He's lying. He has to be. Even if I was drunk, there's no way I'd cling to him like that-or say something so ridiculous.

Theo chuckles, stepping back into the hallway. "Whatever you say, Soph."

And with that, he's gone, leaving me to stew in my own mortification.

His door swings open again, and Theo pokes his head inside, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "You know," he starts, leaning against the doorframe, "if you don't believe me, you could always ask the security guy downstairs. Or the people who saw me carrying you."

My stomach twists. "Carrying me?"

"Oh, yeah," he says, stepping fully into the apartment now, his grin growing wider. "You were holding onto me so tight, I felt like a prince carrying his princess."

"My cheeks blaze with heat as I glare at him. "Stop that," I snap, clenching my teeth.

"Stop what?" he asks, tilting his head, feigning confusion. "Saying 'princess'? Or is it that you like the word? Answer me-princess."

My entire body tenses. "I really want to kill you, do you know that?"

He steps closer, his grin infuriatingly wide now. "Oh, come on. It's a compliment. You looked the part last night-dazed, dramatic, holding onto me for dear life."

"I will throw something at you," I threaten, grabbing the nearest pillow.

"You'd miss." He winks, stepping out of range just in time as I hurl the pillow at him. It lands harmlessly on the floor, and he lets out a laugh.

"Good try, princess," he says, ducking back into the hallway before I can grab something else.

I groan, collapsing back onto the bed, my face buried in my hands. Of all the people to deal with after a night like this, it had to be Theo.

He's never letting this go, isn't he?