Sequel: Through Fire ›
From the Ashes
Allie
Head still spinning wildly, I clutch the pillow I'm lying on. If I were sober, I'd probably care about where I was. But I could give two poops right now. Roman returns to me, a tall glass in his hand. I squint at it in the low lamplight.
"This is your best friend," he tells me, his voice soft. He helps me sit before handing me the glass.
"You're really dehydrated from puking up your guts, Allie." I ignore him as I gulp down the water. The faster I get this down, the sooner it can flush my system of alcohol, right?
"Slow down, stupid. Or you'll throw it all up."
With most of the water gurgling in my stomach, I slump back into the soft pillow. Roman sits beside me, his feet on the floor, and his body twisted towards me. He holds a wet cloth in his hand, which he uses to begin to wipe my face with gently. It's warm.
I mumble a small protest, though I do like the feeling of it.
"You have smeared make-up all over your face," he informs me. My stomach drops, and I try to turn away from him.
"I look like craaaaap," I whine, but Roman catches my face in his other hand while shushing me. I calm down, enjoying the warmth from the cloth and from his hand. I gaze up at him as he washes the mascara from my cheeks. Behind his shaggy black hair, his eyes are tired. That gorgeous, smoky-green hazel. All I can seem to focus on at the moment is my intense attraction to him.
He finishes, and places the cloth on a bedside table. Tossing his shoes off and removing his shirt, he slides into the bed beside me, causing my heart to go wild, and my inebriated brain to agree with it.
"Don't puke on me," he commands with a smirk as he faces me on the pillow, "I'll throw you right out." I mumble in response, trying to laugh with him. His tired eyes watch me for a moment. "What's wrong?" he asks. I mutter something about my dress. And being uncomfortable. He sighs, but moves the blankets of the bed up to cover us from our shoulders down. He scoots toward me, his forehead almost touching mine, and places his hands on my hips gently. Carefully, he moves them down, finding the hem of the tee-shirt I was wearing. He lifts it, and I squirm to enable him to. My own hands fall against his chest, and my body involuntarily moving to rest against his. With his forehead against mine now, Roman reaches under my arms to find the edges of the tight black dress. Wary of my lady parts, he tugs the fabric down, and I kick the dress off. He returns the tee-shirt to its full length on me. In the process, I end up half on him, with one of his arms wrapped around my waist, and the other wrapped around my shoulders. His hand rests on the flat of my back, in a comforting way. With his arms still draped around me, Roman shifts both of us onto our sides to keep from putting weight on my stomach.
"Is that better, Aleithea?" He murmurs softly, his lips brushing my forehead as he speaks. I can feel his snakebites.
I mumble an agreement into his neck. The warmth of being against him is glorious. Behind my closed eyes, I can tell the room has plunged into darkness. As Roman's arm returns to its spot around my shoulders, I realize he switched the light off. I entwine my legs in his, the comfort of it all easing the dizziness of the darkness. My face is buried into his neck and hair, and I mumble words that I can't even understand. Roman cradles me, stroking my back. He calms me that way, and I slowly drift off as the dizziness becomes less noticeable.
"This is your best friend," he tells me, his voice soft. He helps me sit before handing me the glass.
"You're really dehydrated from puking up your guts, Allie." I ignore him as I gulp down the water. The faster I get this down, the sooner it can flush my system of alcohol, right?
"Slow down, stupid. Or you'll throw it all up."
With most of the water gurgling in my stomach, I slump back into the soft pillow. Roman sits beside me, his feet on the floor, and his body twisted towards me. He holds a wet cloth in his hand, which he uses to begin to wipe my face with gently. It's warm.
I mumble a small protest, though I do like the feeling of it.
"You have smeared make-up all over your face," he informs me. My stomach drops, and I try to turn away from him.
"I look like craaaaap," I whine, but Roman catches my face in his other hand while shushing me. I calm down, enjoying the warmth from the cloth and from his hand. I gaze up at him as he washes the mascara from my cheeks. Behind his shaggy black hair, his eyes are tired. That gorgeous, smoky-green hazel. All I can seem to focus on at the moment is my intense attraction to him.
He finishes, and places the cloth on a bedside table. Tossing his shoes off and removing his shirt, he slides into the bed beside me, causing my heart to go wild, and my inebriated brain to agree with it.
"Don't puke on me," he commands with a smirk as he faces me on the pillow, "I'll throw you right out." I mumble in response, trying to laugh with him. His tired eyes watch me for a moment. "What's wrong?" he asks. I mutter something about my dress. And being uncomfortable. He sighs, but moves the blankets of the bed up to cover us from our shoulders down. He scoots toward me, his forehead almost touching mine, and places his hands on my hips gently. Carefully, he moves them down, finding the hem of the tee-shirt I was wearing. He lifts it, and I squirm to enable him to. My own hands fall against his chest, and my body involuntarily moving to rest against his. With his forehead against mine now, Roman reaches under my arms to find the edges of the tight black dress. Wary of my lady parts, he tugs the fabric down, and I kick the dress off. He returns the tee-shirt to its full length on me. In the process, I end up half on him, with one of his arms wrapped around my waist, and the other wrapped around my shoulders. His hand rests on the flat of my back, in a comforting way. With his arms still draped around me, Roman shifts both of us onto our sides to keep from putting weight on my stomach.
"Is that better, Aleithea?" He murmurs softly, his lips brushing my forehead as he speaks. I can feel his snakebites.
I mumble an agreement into his neck. The warmth of being against him is glorious. Behind my closed eyes, I can tell the room has plunged into darkness. As Roman's arm returns to its spot around my shoulders, I realize he switched the light off. I entwine my legs in his, the comfort of it all easing the dizziness of the darkness. My face is buried into his neck and hair, and I mumble words that I can't even understand. Roman cradles me, stroking my back. He calms me that way, and I slowly drift off as the dizziness becomes less noticeable.