Fly With Me | ✓

08

"Jesus Christ, Everleigh, please open your eyes."

Everleigh put a hand to her forehead and opened one eye at a time. Took a moment to realize where she was, and nearly leapt into Maverick's lap when she realized he'd sat her on the ground of an alleyway in Las Vegas.

"Oh my God, ew!" Everleigh grabbed his shoulders. "What the fuck—"

"Calm down, calm down," Maverick said. His hand was on her shoulder again, trying to keep her steady. Another hand held something under her nose.

"Why are we on the ground?" Everleigh's eyebrows knit together. There were few things that disgusted Everleigh; she had cleaned up airplane bathrooms before. But sitting on the ground in a place that could have anything underneath her was a boundary she did not want to break. Snow be damned, Everleigh hated being on the ground.

"I'm sorry that the fucking White House couch wasn't available, Meadowlark, but you passed out, I didn't know what else to do."

"Probably take me to the hospital, not sit me on the fuckin' ground—"

"I get it, it's gross. But if I trailed you around to my car with you passed out, I'd get arrested. Please stop complaining, I at least sat with you," Maverick said. "And now my ass is wet too. So, if that makes you feel better, there's that."

Everleigh looked down for a moment. "Are you using a joint as a smelling salt?"

"It was that or something I pulled out of the dumpster over there."

Everleigh managed a laugh. "Thank you for not pulling shite out of the dumpster."

"You're sure?" Maverick asked, tucking the joint behind his ear. "I could find some, like, mouldy cheese, or... you know, rat shit or something. Whatever you want. Lady's choice."

Everleigh snorted. "Shut up, Kingston."

Maverick smiled. "There she is."

Everleigh held her hands up in the air and shook them—Vegas Strip back alley jazz hands.

"You scared the shit out of me, Everleigh." Maverick pushed her bangs away from her eyes gently, pushing the longer part behind her ear.

"I'm sorry." Everleigh didn't mean to lean into his hand, but her head still hurt a little. She was disoriented, not thinking straight. And Maverick's hand was comfortable. Sue her—it's not like he pulled it away.

"What happened?" Maverick asked.

"I..." Everleigh's eyebrows knit together. "You don't have to hear about this."

"I just caught you before you cracked your head on the pavement."

"And I thank you for it."

"It wasn't the weed, was it?" Maverick looked genuinely concerned. Like he was close to too many emotions at once. Oh, God. "I promise I didn't do anything to it. I promise."

"Kingston."

"Yes?"

"I'm past the point of thinking you're trying to kill me."

Maverick smiled. "I'm glad."

"It wasn't the weed."

"Good."