Page 85 of Plaything

He chuckled at my disappointment before his hands were on my waist, helping me into the shower. “We’ve got to be quick; I don’t want us to get stuck in the cold water,” he said as he began lathering shampoo in my hair.

The massage felt like heaven, and I soon found myself hugging him. My arms were wrapped around his torso as he rinsed the suds out of my hair. I was on cloud nine, feeling nothing and everything simultaneously. Niko was right about that liquid courage.

“Thank you for being so nice to me,” I slurred.

Aiden hugged me back, gently swaying me in the hot water. “You don’t have to thank us for being nice, Babydoll. If anything, you should expect this, okay?” He responded gently.

I nodded, although I knew I’d always be surprised by their kindness and willingness to go out of their way for me. It made me feel special.

We finished up, and both of us were clean by the time the first drop of icy water fell. Aiden dressed me in an oversized shirt and sweatpants—probably the comfiest outfit I’d ever worn.

I was in and out of it as he brushed through my hair. I barely remember Niko coming into the room and braiding my hair; I just remember the sound of his voice. The only evidence that I was sick was the burn in my throat from the stomach acids.

Bits and pieces of the night flashed in scrambled images: Aiden rubbing my back as my head was in a toilet, Wyatt at the door with water and a pill, Dominic shooing Cat away as I begged to pet him, Niko’s hands running through my hair, finally getting to pet Cat, and Aiden’s arms around me as we slept in his bed.

I was never more comfortable with being such a mess in my life. There was no judgment being cast, no scolding whatsoever. I was still embarrassed that I was seen in such a vulnerable state—even if I didn’t remember. I might not remember puking or most things in between, but I’d remember how they cared for me.

Chapter Twelve

Odette

Living in this house, I’d woken up in several ways: freezing cold, in Dominic’s arms, with a cat stepping on my face, or with Niko’s head dangerously close to my pollution factory. However, today, I woke up with what can only be described as a hangover.

My body wouldn’t stop shaking, my stomach was in knots that made me want to curl up in a ball, and my head was throbbing. I wish someone would have told me that having a hangover was like having the flu, only worse. I had no recollection of leaving Reesia’s house or getting home.

The upside was that I woke up in Aiden’s bed with his arm loosely draped over my hips. My body was so achy that I didn’t want to move—so I didn’t.

Instead of getting out of bed, I admired how at peace he seemed. Aiden was a get-them-before-they-get-you kind of man. He was always anticipating, planning, and calculating. Even in his sleep, his eyelashes twitched as he dreamt. Watching him asleep, I realized that he held a lot of his expression on his lips. I would have never noticed there was a difference unless I was as close as I was. Asleep, his lips were full and somewhat round—natural. They were more upturned in the corners when he was awake, like a soft smirk, making them slightly thinner.

It was a subtle difference that I counted myself lucky to know.

“I can feel you staring,” he mumbled, his eyes still closed. His morning voice was raspy, and if I didn’t feel so shitty, it probably would have turned me on.

I didn’t have the energy to lie or quickly close my eyes and pretend I was asleep. “What does it feel like?” I asked, noticing how hoarse my voice was.

Aiden opened his eyes, where his electric met my ocean blue. He shifted, propping himself on his elbow, “Have you ever gone to a family-owned breakfast diner? One where every cup is different because they don’t have any matching dish sets?” He questioned. “Those diners always have the best coffee.”

I pushed my eyebrows together, not entirely understanding if that was an insult or not. “You’re comparing me staring at you to coffee in mismatched cups?” Was I still drunk?

He moved a few locks of hair out of my face as a small smile slowly appeared on his lips. “There’s not many things that I like more on a Sunday morning than those mismatched cups of coffee, Odette.”

Blinking up at him, I swallowed the meaning behind his metaphor. A simple, ‘I liked waking up next to you’ would have sufficed, but no, he had to go and make me blush. I was easily flattered as it is; my stomach would explode from how easily I got butterflies around my professors.

The worst part was that I think they knew how easily flustered I was and liked it.

“Awe, that’s so sweet of you, Aiden.”

Aiden and I both shared a confused look at the intrusion that came from the end of his bed.

As I sat up to inspect, I groaned as my stomach ached and my head throbbed at my movement. Aiden and I were met with Niko’s smug smirk. He must have been sleeping on the floor at the end of Aiden’s bed. He had his arms crossed, resting on the end of the bed, and his chin on his arms, giving him an innocent demeanor.

Aiden narrowed his eyes at him, “What are you doing in here?” He asked calmly.

“Beats me,” Niko responded nonchalantly. His gaze shifted to meet mine with a kind smile. “Good morning, Cariño. Feeling better?” He asked.

“Better?” I repeated, looking between the two. “I feel like I got hit by a bus. What happened?” I asked, desperate to fill in the blanks between butt-scooting down Reesia’s stairs and now.

Aiden ran his hands down his face, softly chuckling. “Well, after about an hour of you promising that you don’t have a piss or shit kink, you threw up about eight times, cried over Cat being so fluffy, then cried about puking, then cried again when we told you to stop apologizing, drank about a gallon of water, chewed the Tylenol I gave you, cried about how bad it tasted, threw up again, and passed out.”

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