The Two of Us (Love in Isolation 1)

“Not really.” I rest my arms on the counter and lower my head. “I swear, something is beeping in this house.”

“Here…” I hear him walk closer. “Drink this.”

I blink, and a glass of orange juice is in front of me. “I can’t. I might puke.”

“Nah, it’ll help. Go slow. I’ll make you some waffles to soak up the alcohol.”

He shuffles around, and I try to focus on not throwing up, but the high-pitched squeal is driving me insane. I get up to walk around the dining area and living room, searching for where it’s coming from.

“Are you sure you don’t hear it?” I drag my blanket with me. I know I’m not imagining it.

Moving back to the kitchen, I see his shoulders shake, and soon, he’s full-on laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

He smirks. “You.”

“Are you enjoying my pain?”

Eli arches a brow. “What pain?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I inhale sharply. “Can we pretend last night didn’t happen? Pretty please, for the love of God, don’t gloat about what I did either. It’s embarrassing, and this fucking beeping in my head is going to make me lose it! Not to mention, I have a headache.”

“You mean, the part where you crawled into my lap and begged me to fuck you?”

“Okay, I know I didn’t do that…you’ve lost your damn mind. I tried to kiss you, not bang you.”

“I remember it differently…” He beams. “You were grinding against me, trying to get my dick all excited.”

I hang my head, knowing my cheeks are burning bright red. “I hate you. Shut up. Go away. I’m leaving now.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” He grabs my arm and pulls me back, tightening the blanket around me.

“What?” I snap.

“You’re somehow even more adorable hungover as hell, but don’t be embarrassed. I wanted to kiss you last night, but I didn’t want you to regret it this morning. So, if you still have the urge to straddle my lap and rub against my cock, do it when you’re sober so I know it’s what you actually want.”

I swallow down the lump in my throat, my heart hammering relentlessly in my chest, and nod. “Okay,” is the only word I can muster.

The noise returns.

“Are you sure you don’t hear that?” I tilt my head.

Eli retreats slightly, dropping his arms. “Yeah, it’s the smoke detector. The backup battery is going out.”

I step toward him and swat his chest. “You asshole! You heard it all along!”

He chuckles, moving back to avoid my wrath, but I quickly give up. Eli shrugs with a motherfucking grin. “Sober up so I can teach you how to change it.”

Narrowing my eyes, I follow him to the table. He brings me my glass of juice and then busies himself with the waffle maker.

“Why does it sound like it’s in my room and down here at the same time?”

“Because the ceilings are so high, and the sound echoes off the walls.”

“There are a few up there, so how do you know which one it is?”

“You’re supposed to change them all at the same time. But I’m not sure how many batteries you have, so we’ll have to check.”

“I’m part relieved it’s not just in my head, but the other part wishes it were so it’d stop when my headache disappears.”

“Speaking of which, take these.” He hands me a couple of white pills. “Waffles are almost done.”

“Thank you,” I softly say, then swallow them down with my juice. “How are you not hungover this morning?”

He shrugs. “I’m twice your size. I can tolerate more.”

“Next time we play your stupid game, I’m drinking vodka.”

“You’ll be puking for sure. Ryan told me it doesn’t agree with you.”

“Ryan is a fucking tattletale.” I roll my eyes. “And he shouldn’t talk.”

“That’s true. Ryan doesn’t drink enough to be able to handle more than a few beers at a time.”

I slap a hand against the table. “Exactly, thank you!”

Eli brings our plates over along with the butter, syrup, a can of Reddi-wip, and silverware.

“You ready for the best breakfast of your life?” he gloats.

“What’s in these?” I ask, poking at one.

“Chocolate chips.”

“That’s a lot of carbs in the morning.”

“You won’t be worried about that once you take a bite.” I watch as he slathers his toppings on. “Don’t forget the whipped cream.”

“I’m literally going to go into a sugar coma,” I say as I add everything on top of mine.

The timer on the oven goes off, and he returns to the kitchen. Moments later, he returns with a plate full of bacon.

“You made enough for an army, geez.”

“I made extra for BLTs later.”

Good thing I packed leggings and yoga pants because there’s no way my skinny jeans will fit after eating Eli’s delicious meals.

“So? Thoughts?”

“I like it! I can’t remember the last time I had waffles.”

“Seriously?”

I shrug. “I live off smoothies and salads. Paparazzi, remember?”

“Fuck the paps. For real. Who cares?”