Page 41 of Theo

“I mean, yeah. Kind of,” my brow furrows as I try to put words to what I’m feeling. “I want you to be you and me to be me, and if me pisses off you, I want you to do something about me.”

Theo nods in that annoyingly understanding way he does. It’s like he not only hears me, but he understands me, and I fucking hate it because it’s so cute and sweet and pure and?—

“What the fuck?!”

The bar tips on its axis, the whole room spinning as Theo heaves me over his shoulder. One massive hand snaps up to hold my ass as he calls out to Lucy about settling the tab later.

“Bye, Lucy!” I yell directly at the floor, unable to lift my arms to hold myself up. Theo’s shoulder shakes against my stomach, and I frown. “Are you laughing?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You’re one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.”

“Well, that’s...nice,” I sigh, trying to control the painful pitch and roll of my stomach. “But I think I’m going to throw up on you.”

Theo moves quickly to the door, sliding me off his shoulder just in time for me to lose the contents of my stomach into the bushes. “That’s an unfortunate color, Viper. What have you been drinking?”

“All of it.”

“All of it?” I can feel one of his hands running the length of my back while the other gently pulls the hair away from my face. “That’s quite the undertaking.”

“Had it in hand,” I argue, but it’s cut short by another round of uncontrollable stomach spasms.

Theo makes quiet cooing sounds for the rest of the time we’re hunched over the bush that I’ve started affectionately calling Carla. If you’re going to throw up on someone, you should at least have the decency to learn their name.

“How do you feel, sweet girl?”

“Dying,” I moan, sinking back against his chest. “Not dead because of pain.”

His laughter rumbles against my ear, and I shimmy closer, trying to drown in the sound. “Let’s get you home.”

“Home.” It’s the last word I hear before I slip into the void between consciousness and sleep.

Death would be preferable to this.

My eyelids don’t open when I ask them to, and I groan under the effort of forcing them to cooperate. At least it’s dark here, wherever here is. I’m in a massive four-poster bed, cocooned in emerald silk sheets, and sweating my fucking tits off.

Realizing half the issue is the massive white quilt covering me, I throw that bitch off in a huff. Dragging myself to the edge of the bed, I see a note on the nightstand.

Viper,

Take the Tylenol and hop in the shower. There are clean clothes at the end of the bed. I’ll make breakfast.

xx Theo

“Oh, God.” The previous night’s events come filtering through my mind in bits and pieces. Drinking everything in sight. Theo carrying me. Throwing up.

So much throwing up.

If I thought opening my eyes was difficult, dragging myself to the bathroom is damn near impossible. Halfway through the Hellfire-hot shower, the Tylenol kicks in, and I start to feel nearly human again.

Shuffling back into the bedroom, I look over the clothes Theo left out for me. They’re my clothes from my apartment in New York. I thought Eric destroyed them all, but there must have been some salvageable pieces because I’m looking down at my favorite Queen t-shirt and black joggers. There’s a bra and underwear I don’t recognize next to them, but both are my size. I roll my eyes at the idea of Theo buying me underwear, but I can’t deny the little bubble of warmth spreading through my stomach when I pull them on.

That warmth turns into a full blazing fire when I step out of the bedroom and am smacked in the face by the sight of Theo standing in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking.

“Morning, Viper.”

---