He got out of the car, scooped Kasie up in his arms and walked into the elevator. Then he set her
down, draping one of her arms around his shoulders for support. After he made sure she wouldn’t fall
over, he pressed the button.
Kasie opened her eyes and saw Ivan through blurry eyes.
“Ivan, it’s you!”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Ivan sighed helplessly.
“What’s wrong with me? Why are you holding me up? Why can’t I stand up?” Kasie burped, and the
elevator was full of the smell of alcohol mixed with rather foul breath, thanks to a night of drinking.
Ivan exined patiently, “You’re drunk, and you wouldn’t tell me where you live. We’re going to my
ce.”
“Your ce? What’s wrong with mine? Need directions?”
“Is she inviting me?’ Ivan wondered.
Content ? copyrighted by N?velDrama.Org.
The elevator came to a halt on the third floor.
“No. We’re here already. You can crash here.”
“ALL right. But you can’t tell Debbie. She might get mad. I’m her bestie, but I’m alone with her
husband,” Kasie said with a guilty
Ang’s Library
Look.
‘I’m pretty sure Debbie won’t get angry. She’ll be d to hear it,
Ivan said to himself.
He scooped her up again and took her to his bedroom. After gently cing her on the bed, he said,
“Get some sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.”
Kasie was about to wrap herself in covers when Ivan ran over to her quickly and took her shoes off.
After tucking herself in, she gave Ivan a smile and said, “Mom, I feel dizzy. No bath tonight. I’ll do it
tomorrow.”
‘Mom? Do I look like a chick to her?’ Ivan rolled his eyes. After taking a deep breath, he said, “Fine. Get
some rest. I’ll grab a shower.”
“Mom, you’re so nice to me.”
Ivan didn’t respond and walked into the bathroom without another word.
He was worn out too, and felt like doing nothing more than washing up and going to sleep.
The next morning, when Kasie woke up, she found herself in a strange room. Much to her surprise, she
was in a man’s arms. He was only wearing boxers!
She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw it was Ivan.
But then she got nervous again. ‘Oh my God! Where are my clothes?
Did we screw?’