What A Lie Looks Like | ✓

2.09: sephine

"Hayes, I think you're a little drunk." I tease as he smiles at me from where he sits on the floor with an almost empty bottle of Malibu. Liv had called and canceled dinner tonight because her meetings ran late and had an early morning. We rescheduled for a shopping trip tomorrow if I was up to it, which meant that Hayes had stuck around after a late lunch and an errand, which consisted of him buying a bottle of liquor because I have none.

"No, I'm not," He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, causing some of it to stick up at a weird angle. "Well, I might be a lil tipsy." Hayes pinches his pointer finger and thumb, leaving a small amount of space between them, and I lean back in the chair I'm propped up in.

"I think you're a little more than tipsy, but okay." Still a happy drunk, I think as he just smiles happily doing absolutely nothing other than stare at me.

"You know that you're pretty, right? Eric was stupid to let you go." Hayes makes a face causing me to laugh.

"Eric is Ezra, but close enough." What was I thinking, letting him get drunk? I don't know where he lives, and I can't drive, so he has to stay here. I mean, I could always call him a cab but can he even walk right now?

Hayes juts his bottom lip out into a pout, "You didn't accept my compliment."

I pause from my motion to take the sling off to glance at him, "What compliment?"

"You're beautiful," He repeats, and I shake him off, laughing lightly as I finish gently straightening my arm out. I rotate it slowly, and there's no significant stabbing pain that tells me I need to put my arm back in the sleeve. His face falls for a moment, "I was stupid to let you go."

"Thank you for the compliment." I don't say anything about the last thing he said because he's drunk and anything I say he won't even remember.

He then smiles widely, leaning back, and I try my hardest not to do anything other than smile at him, but it's tough when he opens his mouth again. "Hey, Sephy," He slurs.

I raise an eyebrow looking at him, "Yeah?"

"I'm engaged." And while my jaw lands on the floor, Hayes is giggling as if something hysterical has just happened.

What the hell?

I get up off the couch and take the bottle away from him, "What do you mean you're engaged?"

He yawns unknowingly, batting his eyelashes at me in the process, "The doctors gave Dad a few years left to live, so he handed the company over to me. He wanted to make sure I would produce an heir or some shit like that, so he put a clause saying I needed to be engaged within two years in the contract without me knowing. My two years are almost up."

I burst out laughing, thinking there's no way he's serious right now. What kind of parent would do that to their kid? "Very funny Hayes, let me help you up on the couch so you can sleep it off."

"I'm being-" His face scrunches up as he tries to remember the word he wants to say, "serious."

"Well, who are you engaged to then."

Hayes doesn't answer and goes to reach for the bottle that's no longer there, and he frowns again, "Hey, where did my drink go?"

"You drank it all, Benson." I retort, offering him my good hand, which soon becomes enveloped in his much larger and warmer hand.

Except Hayes isn't helping me a whole lot in the getting up part, and I slip landing softly on him with an 'oomph.' Hayes pulled my good arm, meaning that was the limb that took the brunt of the impact. He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear and smiles, "Hey, Sephy?"