Page 53 of Only for Tonight
“What are friends for,” he replies, and I want to scream at him that I’m not his friend, but I am his friend. I’m the one who gave him that title. But I was angry and scared and confused and then I started throwing up.
“You might be my best friend, then.” I try to smile the whole time, also trying not to move so I don’t start something. His eyes look like they are about to say something, but I’m too scared to hear it. “I’m going to close my eyes and try to sleep.”
“I’ll be here,” he assures me as I drift away. “I’ll always be here.” That’s the last thing I hear before I finally sleep.
My eyes flutter open, and the wave of nausea hits me right away. I am so afraid if I move, I’ll end up throwing up on his bed, so I just lie here breathing in and out. I close my eyes again but then my head starts to spin, making it so much worse. So I open them again and turn onto my back and look to Jaxon’s side and see he’s not in bed. Instead, he’s sitting outside watching the water. I take a quick look at the clock on his side of the bed and see it's almost the middle of the afternoon. I spent the better part of the night rushing to the bathroom to throw up. I didn’t even know I had that much fluid inside of me.
After every single time, I would think this is it, there isn’t anything left in me. And each and every time it was like psych, joke’s on you, yes there is. I’m not even going to think about how each time Jaxon was there behind me, seething but still there. Rubbing my back and then getting me a rag. The side of the bathroom has a whole fucking mountain of white towels that are soaked right now. At one point I heard him rush out to the hallway and then come back in with a stack of towels. I bet he was contemplating not sleeping with me after that time, if not, definitely after. I don’t think we’ve slept a full two hours in a row.
“Oh, God,” I mumble and then rush out of bed, knowing that it’s coming. I make it to the bathroom only because there is nothing left inside of me. It’s all bile that comes up, my stomach aching from throwing up all night long. Every single time I retch into the toilet my stomach clenches and it hurts. My whole body is now starting to hurt and I just want it to stop.
“Motherfucker,” I hear rumbled behind me. I sit on my ass and close my eyes, trying to get my stomach to stop lurching at the same time trying to get my head to stop spinning, which is making me even more nauseated.
I inhale and exhale as I hear him moving around the bathroom. I hear the sound of the water from the sink being turned on and then I feel his hand on my back, rubbing it up and down. “Baby,” he soothes softly, and I open one eye to test how the light is going to affect my head spinning. “I got you another wet rag.”
I hold out my hand for him and I’m not even exaggerating, but it takes literally all my fucking energy to grab it. My hand falls down to my thigh when I have it, as I try to muster up the energy to put it on the top of my head or even wipe my mouth. I feel his fingers touch mine as he takes it from me and slowly washes my mouth. “I think I got up too fast.” I try to make an excuse but he just looks at me.
“You got up to throw up,” he says, putting his hand on my cheek. “I was watching you from outside.”
“That’s a little creepy”—I smile and try to pretend I’m fucking okay—“don’t you think?”
“Call it whatever you want to call it.” He leans forward to kiss me and I back my head away.
“I literally just barfed in the toilet.” I lift my hand in front of my face and turn my head to the side.
“I was going to kiss your forehead. Now, do you need me to carry you back to bed or are you going to pretend you’re okay but you aren’t?”
“Wow.” I put my hands on the floor beside my hips and try to stand up, but then my arms feel like noodles. “I think I’m just going to stay here for a bit.” He shakes his head. “In case I have to throw up again.”
“I’m getting you back into bed and that is where you’re going to stay.” He bends and takes me in his arms, one hand around my waist, the other under my knees.
“Wait,” I say when he takes one step forward and suddenly stops and looks down at me with fear in his eyes, no doubt thinking I’m going to throw up on him, “I want to brush my teeth.”
“There is nowhere you can sit.” He looks at the double sink vanities he has, but they each have floating shelves under them and it’s empty in the middle.
“I think I can stand for a couple of seconds to brush my teeth,” I tell him as he looks at the sink and then at the ottoman, probably thinking he can place me on the ottoman and then push me to the sink, but it’ll be too low. “You can stand behind me,” I deadpan and he walks over to the sink and places me down on my legs. He holds my hips in his hands as I reach for my toothbrush. “I was kidding.” I look in the mirror, watching him behind me. A full head over me, his ice-blue eyes feel like they are ice. “Or maybe not.” I turn on the water in the sink and wet the toothbrush before starting to brush my teeth. I don’t know why it makes me feel a bit more human.
He stands right behind me the whole time, holding on to my hips, staring at me in the mirror, and I avoid looking back at him with everything I have. Only because in the middle of brushing my teeth I think I’m going to be sick, and I need whatever energy I have inside of me to deal with that, along with the energy to not buckle at the knees and have him be like, I told you so.
I spit the toothpaste out before grabbing the glass and filling it to rinse my mouth, then making sure my toothbrush is clean before placing it back in the cupholder next to his. “Are you done?” he asks me.
“Minty fresh.” I turn in his arms and his hands grip my hips a bit tighter. “Now if you want to kiss me, I won’t say no.” He smirks and shakes his head.
“Why is it you can get me from getting ready to burn my house to laughing?” he mumbles as he kisses my lips softly.
My hand comes up to hold his cheek. “It’s a talent,” I joke with him.
“It truly is,” he says, his voice soft. “Now, let’s get you into bed.”
“If that is code for you want to have sex with me all day long”—I fold my arms under my chest—“I’m going to have to admit, I’m really not up for it.” I barely get the words out before he’s picking me back up. “Okay, fine, if you do all the work.”
“Shut up, Ari,” he grits out as he makes his way over to the bed and lays me in my place. “Now I’m going to go and get you something to eat. Some saltines, ginger snaps, and I’ll bring up some room temperature ginger ale I had delivered this morning.”
“You had stuff delivered this morning?” I ask, shocked, as I turn around and prop the pillows behind my back. “When?”
“I think it was at around nine,” he guesses, scratching his neck and my eyes roam down from his neck all the way to his shorts just lying on his hips. “I had to call in and tell David I wouldn’t be going with the guys to the children’s hospital today.”
My heart sinks. “You cancelled an event for me?”
