4

"It doesn't make any sense, though," Mr Williams argues. He's on his third glass of whiskey on the rocks for the night. We've been in his office for the past hour going through the case study provided to him by the PR team of the company. "Everyone needs to be fired at this point. Who would approve this ad?"

"Right?" I say to him. "It's like they had no one in charge of making rational decisions."

He rubs his face. "I need another drink. Can I get you anything?"

"No, it's okay. I don't drink," I say.

He pauses. "Wow, you're really better than anyone I could've chosen to date my son. You don't drink. You get along with his sister. You're an A-student in university. What did I do to deserve this?"

"I think you've had too much to drink," I say, blushing. What is he saying? I've never seen him like this. "How about we finish up here and I get you to sober up before your kids find you like this?"

"Good idea." He undoes the rest of the buttons on his dress shirt, shrugging it off. "What is the game plan?"

"You get into the shower. Cold shower," I say to him. "Do you have any strong coffee? Oh, and bread?"

"Everything's in the kitchen."

I get a pot of the strongest coffee I can find in their kitchen and toast some slices of seeded bread. I put peanut butter on the toast and add milk and sugar to my coffee.

Mr Williams comes downstairs in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt. He drinks his coffee black. Then has another cup.

"You should have some of the bread, too," I say to him, laughing at his ridiculous behaviour. "I can't believe you drink your coffee black."

"You should really try it," he says, biting into his toast. "It really sobers you up."

"Oh, you think I should?"

"You should." He offers me his cup and I cross the room to take it from him.

I take a small sip and my face screws up in agony. It's way too bitter. Kind of burns my throat. "Yeah, no. Never again. This is atrocious."

"What? Please don't tell me you're one of those half coffee, half milk kind of people?" he says.

I cross my arms over my chest. "And what if I am?"

He rises to his feet, standing in front of me. "Then I might just have to change that. You're in university—coffee should be your best friend. Good coffee. You should take a bag of coffee beans back with you to the dorms when you leave."

"You take this coffee thing way too seriously," I say.

"Oh, I do?" he whispers.

I don't know why I do it. I look at his lips. They are the shape of Micah's. Plump bottom lip with a perfect Cupid's Bow. I don't think I've ever realised how much of his dad's looks Micah inherited. Unlike Ashlae, who has the same dark curls as his late wife, Micah is a splitting image of Mr. Williams.

I look down at my feet. "Urgh...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I'm so sorry."

"No," he lifts my chin. "Hey, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it. Don't beat yourself up about it. Okay?"

Okay. I know I said I didn't mean it, but he's so close to me. Like, I've never been this close to anyone but Micah. I can't help but feel my body heat up. With excitement. Anticipation. I can't tell. "Okay."

He's staring at my lips, too. Or I must be drunk off the fumes of the whiskey he had in his study and I'm imagining all of this. He moves closer to me, his hand moving from my chin to my cheek. "You remind me of her. I mean, I know it's insane. But you're...it's like you're her doppelgänger or something. It's crazy. The way you talk. Your personality. You're really beautiful."

I turn away from him. This isn't right. Micah could be home at any minute. I haven't even checked my phone since I went to his study. What if Micah called me?

"I should...uhm...we should probably stop. This isn't...right. Right?"

He hides his face in my neck. It's like he's fighting with himself. "Fuck. Shit. I know. I know, but I can't...I don't know how to turn it off. The part of me that wants to get close to you like this. It's wrong, but it doesn't feel that way when I'm around you."

"Don't say that," I tell him. My fingers thread through his dark blind hair in the same way I know Micah loves and for a moment it's like I'm with him. I pull him into me. "We really can't."

He groans. I touch my lips to the side of his head. "You're just so perfect for him...a part of me can't help but wonder what you'd be like with me," he says to me, his hands dropping down to my waist. "Why did he have to choose you?"

The front door opens. I can hear Micah arguing about something with Shay. Something about drinks.

"I swear I only had like two," Micah yells.

I push away from him. "I'm going to check up on him. He sounds completely smashed."

"Yeah," he says rubbing the back of his neck. "You probably should.

"I will," I breathed.

Micah walks into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around my waist. He lifts me off the ground and hides his face in my neck. I giggle. My fingers find their way into his messy hair. "You're coming to bed with me. Yes, you are."

"You're completely wasted," I say to him.

"Nope," he argues. "I only had like two drinks. Ask Shay."

Ashlae and Shay follow him into the kitchen. She gets apple juice from the fridge and drinks from the bottle. I can tell that she's a little buzzed herself. "Oh, completely sober. Really knows how to hold his liquor."

"Yeah—about as much as you. Which is not at all," Shay says, taking the bottle of juice from her. He pours her a glass and returns the juice to the fridge. "Here."

She takes the glass and finishes it in a few gulps. "You want some, baby bro?"

"Nope," he says in sing-song. "Landon is all I need."