"Hey."

Olivia jumped at the voice, the alcohol diluting her movement to a slow jerk. Everything looked a little hazy around the edges, the room distorting to an oblong shape.

Standing from the bench, she latched  onto James' arm to keep from tilting. "Yeah?"

In small clumps, men had begun to leave the dining room. She didn't know where they were going, nor had she been concerned about it. Only then, with James' hand pressed to the small of her back, did she realize that she was probably going to the same place they were.

"Come with me."

Olivia shrugged. Her lips felt heavy when she spoke. " 'Kay."

James led her out of the dining room, letting her lean on his shoulder. With the copious amounts of alcohol swirling around in her system, she felt much more comfortable around him. Olivia knew now he wasn't going to hurt her. She could tell from the protective way he held her to his chest, shielding her from the gazes of the crew.

He pulled her down the hall, shushing her when she mumbled that she could walk herself. At the end of the corridor, he opened his door and carried her inside. 

James sat down on the bed, pulling her down beside him. He looked tired. His bed felt cushy and soft under Olivia, prompting her eyelids to droop . . . she fought to keep her focus on the words coming out of his mouth.

" . . . Before long. But for tonight, you can stay in here so you don't do anything you regret." He gave her a sleepy smile. 

"I can handle myself," she slurred, although she wasn't sure of that anymore.

James raised an eyebrow. "You wanna sleep on the floor with twenty-six men?"

"God no," she said, kicking her shoes off. "Thanks."

"It's okay. I thought I might move you in with Heath, since she has her own room, but . . ."

Olivia laid down next to him, ignoring his conflicted expression as she ran her fingers along his jaw bone. "But what?"

"But she may slit your throat while you sleep."

Olivia was too sleepy to ask why. Instead, she yawned and stripped down to her tank top and underwear before slipping beneath the covers. She could feel James' eyes on her.

"We need to talk about us, too."

"Yeah," she sighed. "I guess."

"So . . . how exactly do you feel about me?"

It seemed an odd question, by Olivia's standards. One that required a kind of honesty she had to rummage around in her head for, the kind that she didn't always keep on hand. She needed to remove the filter for a couple of minutes. Of course, the alcohol helped with that.

"I think you're hot," she smirked. "And I'm really glad I met you. I feel like . . . I feel like we would be good together, you know?"

He held her gaze in a way that told her he did know. Then he sighed. "But I'm the captain. And you're . . . well, I don't know exactly."

"We don't have to tell anybody." The world tilted as she sat up. "They don't have to know."

"Maybe."

James went silent as she cupped his face in her hand, running her thumb along the stubble that dotted his cheeks. Before he could protest, she pushed him onto his back and kissed him. He pulled her closer. Her entire body felt electrified as he rested his hands on her hips

However, he stopped her thirty seconds later.

"You're drunk," he said.

"So?"

"So, I don't take advantage of women when they're under the influence."

"Mmh, I wouldn't mind." She gave him a suggestive grin, still straddled over him.

James sat up, pushing Olivia back onto her pillow and pulling the blanket up over her chest. It struck her as funny, being tucked in. She hadn't been tucked in since Brett, the night he left home. That thought dissolved the laugh in her throat. James flicked off the lights before he saw her tears.