(Wouldn’t happen like a sexual thing, Ross is strictly dickly, but I do have something.)
Isiah had noticed the woman hitting on a bunch of people the night before at the bar, drunk and not at all safe to drive and he doubted she would want to wake up next to some of the people she was hitting on, so when she made her way to him he pretended to accept it and took her back to his hotel room but got her to sleep, covering her with the blanket when she finally did and getting himself as comfortable as he could on the couch, reluctantly taking a pain killer to do so so his leg wouldn’t wake him up, but he was still up before she was.
“Hey, how’d you sleep?” he asked, keeping his voice low when she awoke.”
Summer pushed herself upright, folding her legs and pushing her hair back over her shoulder. It took a second to get all the strands from underneath her body, and then she accepted the water. Cracking it open, she said, “I’m Summer. Thank you, Isiah.”
“It’s no problem, Summer. I just didn’t want you to end up leaving with someone who wasn’t the right sort and would do things you didn’t want. You weren’t sober enough to give consent, so I didn’t want you to end up being forced into something and unable to stop it,” he said with a shrug, pushing himself up and limping to the bathroom and getting a cloth and dampening it and bringing it back to her, knowing it would help with the headache.
She shook her head at the cloth, though one eyebrow arched briefly at his limp. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. Even drunk I can take care of myself. Nobody can force me into something I don’t want.”