Her eyes were completely glazed over, and I doubted she had any idea what was going on, but she settled down enough that I was able to get her sweater off, leaving her in her tank and jeans.

“I need…” she mumbled, leaning forward and resting her forehead against my shoulder. “I need to get undressed.”

I chuckled as I wrapped an arm around her back, holding her up. “Baby, you just took off two sweaters.”

“Pants.” She wiggled up into my lap, so her legs were on either side of mine and sighed.

“I’m going to sleep.”

Turning so she didn’t slip out of my lap and hit the floor, I smiled against the top of her bent head. “You’re going to sleep just like this?”

“Uh-huh.”

I laughed again. “You can’t sleep in my lap.”

She burrowed closer, curling up in a little ball. Goosebumps spread across her arms. “Why not?” she grumbled pitifully.

“It’s not going to be very comfortable.” I brushed her hair off her cheek as I leaned back, my gaze searching her face. Eleven freckles. That was how many are sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. Thick lashes fanned her cheeks. Was she asleep? “Syd?”

“Mmm… pants.”

My brows rose. “You want your jeans off?”

She pressed her cheek against my chest and tapped my leg once. I guessed that was drunk Morse code for yes. Swearing under my breath, I knew what I was going to have to do. Something I never thought I’d ever do with her.

Laying Syd down on her back, I watched her lashes flutter up. The color of her eyes were like the clearest blue skies of summer. “You’re so… pretty.”

“Come again?” I said, choking on my laugh. “Did you just call me pretty?”

She started to roll onto her side again, but I stopped her. “Pants,” she repeated, reaching down, her fingers fumbling on the button of her jeans. “Off.”

I froze for a second, not sure if I should laugh at her one-syllable responses or dive-bomb out the nearest window. Undressing Syd was not something I ever thought I’d be doing, especially when she was drunk. But I didn’t want her to wake up and in a drunken stupor, crack her head open trying to get undressed. With Syd, anything was possible.

Shit.

I could do this. I could do this and it wouldn’t be weird and I wouldn’t be turned on by it, because it was Syd and she was drunk and it wasn’t a big deal. We’d grown up together. I was pretty sure that I’d pissed in front of her on more than one occasion. Hell, I think I did that about a month ago after a night of drinking moonshine. I could take off her pants and not feel like a total fucking pervert.

I should’ve drunk more tonight.