Page 64 of Our Elliana

TWENTY-SEVEN: What Have I Freaking Done?

NOAH

I awaken halfway rolled out of my bed with the covers twisted around me like a straitjacket. Suffering the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life isn’t helpful when the sun is pouring in through my window like a police spotlight.

And I’d cuss real profanity at that inconsiderate orb if I didn’t think it’d make my skull hurt even worse. The pain crescendos all at once, and I’m forced to bolt to my bathroom to ralph my brains out.

Yeah, that was all sorts of fun.

I’m never drinking again. Never. Ever.

At first, drinking is all I can recall, but then other remnants of last night return to me in miniature snippets. Elle down on her knees. Jackson burying his finger in her bottom as he feeds his erection to the warm center of her. Tristan dancing as he strips nearby.

Worse, they all did that because I requested it. It was my birthday wish, and they each complied with it. This makes me gag and toss my cookies all over again.

I’ll never be able to show my face to my housemates again. Not anymore. I’m too mortified. Too humiliated. Thank goodness I’m off work today because I spend it under my blankets and sheets without deigning to show my face to anyone. At least until Jackson appears at my threshold. Apparently, I left my door standing wide open.

Great.

“Hey, big guy, how you feeling?” This might sound kind if he wasn’t chuckling under his breath at me the whole time. Instead, it’s purely condescending. “Still nauseous?”

“Go away,” I order into my pillow. I don’t even say please despite that courtesy being drilled into my conscience ever since I can remember.

“Ah, you sure you don’t want this glass of water and over-the-counter pain reliever?” He dangles it out there like a carrot. “How about this ice pack? I can take it all away if you’re not interested.”

“Leave it then.”

Jackson sounds way too buoyant. So much so that I’m tempted to sock him right in the kisser despite the fact that what he’s bringing me might alleviate my current level of misery. At long last, Jackson goes off to pester someone else.

I honestly would’ve remained holed up in my room if Elle hadn’t insisted I come down to dinner. It’s something she ordered in for delivery because Tristan is as laid up as I am. He must’ve drunk too much, too.

Elle even says that she attempted to coax him downstairs, and he blatantly refused. This sticks out to me. None of us refuse Elle anything. Ever. Yet Tristan evidently is.

That’s... unexpected.

After our meal, Elle invites me to her bed that night, and afterward, we cuddle and talk before we grow sleepy.

“How is work going for you? Save any lives lately?”

I brighten a bit when I realize the answer to her question is yes. “A family of kittens. They were trapped in a drainage pipe and their mom was up a nearby tree. We got her down first, then retrieved each kitten one by one. There were six total, and they all seemed relieved to be reunited.”

“Awww,” she intones, her head resting on my chest. Elliana does this to me a lot. The listening to my heartbeat thing. I like to listen to hears, as well. Especially since that means lying with my cheek against her beautiful round breasts.

I can sometimes even do it without blushing around her.

Despite it being ten o’clock in the evening, my phone beeps with a text. I always respond to all of my messages from my family, and this time it’s from my mother.

Mom: What time will you be here on Thanksgiving? Please note: No is not an option. You might as well let your firehouse know now.

I groan, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with sexual fulfillment.

“Get some bad news?” Elle asks me.

“I can’t call it bad, but it’s not good.” I explain about my mother’s insistence that I come there for Thanksgiving.

“You sound like you’re dreading it.”

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