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“El—” I cut myself off and start again. “Elliot, you can’t sleep in the bathroom.”
“I sure as hell can. Go. Away,” he yells back.
“What if I have to piss?”
“I suggest you find a nice plant to water.”
Sassy little shit.
“Fine.” I stomp my way to the bed, pull the plush blanket off the end of the bed and a pillow and put them next to the door. “You’re acting like a child.”
“Fuck off!”
With a huff, I slam my hand against the light switch to drown the room in darkness before ripping the blankets down on the bed and climbing in.
Even though I’m exhausted, I can’t sleep. My hand aches, and my split lip pulls every time my mouth moves, but it’s just a reminder of the situation I’ve gotten myself into. I stare at the ceiling until I can’t stand myself anymore, then roll over and punch my pillow a few times. The bathroom door opens a sliver, and I lift my head. Light cuts through the room as Eli grabs the pillow and blanket I set on the floor, then douses me in darkness again when he closes it.
I huff and settle onto my stomach on the bed, irritated that he would rather sleep in a fucking bathroom than in here with me. Am I surprised? Not really, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.
I’ve missed him. Sometimes I can bury myself in football and forget for a while, but it never lasts. His smile, scent, and the warm flush of his skin haunts me when I least expect it. When I’m trying to sleep or zone out during a meeting, he’s there.
All night I toss and turn, waiting to hear the door open and finally have Eli come out. He’s the only connection I have to Marcus. The only other person who knew him like I did. Since he died, I’ve had no one to talk to about him. Not really. No one to remember him with me.
When the sun rises in the sky, I stop pretending to sleep and get up. Nervous energy has me itching to move, so I grab both of our bags and unpack them into the dressers. I try my best not to look at what he brought with him, but it’s damn hard not to picture him in the silk camisole or short skirts. My dick aches at the thought of being able to touch him while he wears it. Fucking him with a schoolgirl skirt on would be my fantasy come to life.
I set his toiletries next to the bathroom and stop in my tracks when I open a satin bag with a pearl necklace in it that I recognize. The urge to cry hits me like a punch to the chest as I run my fingers over the cool beads that once belonged to my mother. I knew she left a few things to him in her will, but I’d forgotten about this. Flashes of my mother baking chocolate chip cookies, laughing at our antics in the dining room, smiling at my father when he came home from work buzz in my head. My house was full of love and laughter once upon a time, but not in a long time. Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I put the necklace back in the bag and put it on his dresser before putting our empty bags to the side of the room. I assume there’s a closet on the other side of the door with the bathroom since it’s not in here.
My bladder is demanding I do something, so I get up and walk to the bathroom. Putting my ear to the door, I can hear Eli snoring softly. Carefully, I try to open the door, but it’s locked. With a huff, I go out to the deck and find another way in. Opening the door slowly, I find him curled up in the bathtub with the pillow and blanket. Stubborn ass. His face is so peaceful and unguarded, it’s hard to not kiss his forehead. Mom loved him and Marcus as if they were hers. They only got to know her for a few years, but it was enough to leave a lasting mark on them. Long enough to show them how fucked their own parents were. I hope Marcus and Mom are together, wherever you go after your heart stops beating. I hope she would be proud of me.
I’m sorry, Marcus. I’ll do better for Eli. I promise.
Since my bladder is screaming at me, I sit to lessen the noise and take a piss. This space has to be the same size, if not bigger, than the bedroom with a huge, tiled shower, soaker tub, two vanities, and a closet. It’s not until I flush and am washing my hands that he stirs.
I leave the bathroom before he’s opened his eyes and get changed into my workout gear. There’s not much for me to do here, and with training camp starting a few days after I get back, I need to make sure I’m in shape for it. The last thing I need is for the coaches to be pissed I’ve slacked off.
Picking up the phone next to the bed, I put in a breakfast order and ask the receptionist to set it up on the table on the deck. When I get back, I’m going to be starving, and I’m sure Eli hasn’t been taking care of himself. He’s so much thinner than I remember.
CHAPTERTEN
Elliot
The door to the bathroom opens, and I jump when the light flicks on. “Elliot, get up. I need a shower.”
I force my eyes open to find a shirtless, sweaty, flushed Asher towering over me. It’s been the same every morning for the last three days. For a second, I forget that I hate him, and my eyes drag over his hard body. The black ink etched onto the arms that are now the size of my head and the light dusting of chest hair that looks so fucking soft I want to rub my face in it like a damn cat.Holy fuck, the things I want that body to do to me.
“If you’re done eye-fucking me”—he smirks at me with a lifted eyebrow—“get out or take a shower with me. I don’t care at this point.” The tub is separate from the shower, but there’s no way I’m going to lay in here and watch him bathe.
My face heats, and I grit my teeth. I hate how my stomach flutters at the idea of being naked with him. This is why I have spent the last few days avoiding him. Getting drunk on the beach all day, lounging at a pool, eating whatever sounded good, then finally stumbling back after dark to sleep in this damn tub.
“You wish.” I force my stiff body to move. Every inch of me aches from laying in here all damn night, which is my own fault, but whatever. The bones of my hips grinding into the tub has been particularly joyous. I force my body to move and bite my lip to hold in a groan.
With his ass leaned against the sink, he watches me get up and limp from the room.
“Perhaps sleeping in the bathtub wasn’t your best choice,” he says in a deadpan tone.
“Still better than sharing a bed with you,” I snap back and hobble away from the door so I don’t have to look at him anymore. Though all the booze wasn’t a good idea either.
I stretch and look around the room. Opening the dresser closest to me, my clothes are folded inside. Why did Asher unpack for me? I can’t find anything.
