13. Eli
CHAPTER 13
ELI
Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling, my body restless, my mind worse. Sleep wasn’t happening. Not with the way my brain kept circling back to earlier—to Niall.
I could still feel it. The firm press of his hands when I stumbled into him, the warmth of his chest against mine. It had been a second, maybe less, but my body had clocked every detail. How steady he’d felt. How solid.
I exhaled hard through my nose. “Nope,” I muttered. “Not doing this.”
But my brain was a stubborn bastard, replaying the moment like it was analyzing game footage. The way his grip lingered a beat too long. The way his fingers flexed, like he was about to let go but hadn’t wanted to. The way I hadn’t wanted him to.
I rolled onto my stomach, shoving my face into the pillow. It meant nothing. A reflex. Basic human decency. That was all.
So why was I still thinking about it?
I flipped onto my back again, rubbing a hand over my face. Maybe I was just thrown by how good he’d been with the kids. I hadn’t expected that. Niall was all sharp edges and grunts and that unreadable scowl, but today… There had been something else today. Something softer. The way he’d crouched down to their level, the way his tone had changed, the way the kids had looked at him like he was someone worth admiring.
I liked that version of him. Probably more than I should.
I turned my head toward the wall, the one separating our rooms. Was he awake, too? Lying there thinking about me the way I was thinking about him?
Don’t be stupid. Tomorrow, he’d probably be back to pretending I didn’t exist. I shouldn’t set myself up for more disappointment where Niall was concerned.
I clenched my jaw and willed myself to sleep. But then my body reminded me just how long it had been since I’d had someone in bed with me. Since I’d felt someone else’s weight pressed against me, their breath mixing with mine, their hands?—
Fuck .
I swallowed, shifting against the sheets. Almost six months. That was how long it had been since I left my ex. And, even though people often joked that the best way to get over someone was by getting under someone else, that simply wasn’t how I operated. I didn’t judge those who chose that path; everyone coped with life’s curveballs in their own way. That just wasn’t how I dealt with heartbreak.
Still, my body didn’t seem to care about my principles. Didn’t care that Niall was the last person I should be thinking about.
I was.
A shiver ran through me, heat pooling low in my stomach. I let out a slow breath, my body already on autopilot, my hand slipping beneath the waistband of my sleep pants—no underwear to hinder my path.
The cool air of the room kissed my bare skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth building inside me, goosebumps prickling in its wake. My fingers wrapped around myself, and I sucked in a quiet breath. It had been too long. Too damn long.
I should’ve been thinking about anyone else. Should’ve shoved the thought away the second his face flickered in my mind. But there he was—Niall. Those dark, unreadable eyes. The way his jaw tensed when he was trying not to react. The way he’d looked at me today, softer than usual, like maybe I wasn’t just some guy he had to put up with.
My grip tightened, my hips shifting into the touch. Slow at first, then faster.
A quiet, choked-off sound escaped me, the sensation overwhelming after months of nothing. Each stroke sent sparks skittering under my skin, my pulse hammering hard against my ribs. The silence of the room only made it worse, amplifying every shaky breath, every tiny noise I couldn’t swallow down.
Niall’s name ghosted past my lips, barely a whisper, barely anything.
I squeezed my eyes shut, chasing the feeling, picturing him closer. His broad shoulders. The way his hand had felt wrapped around my arm today, steady and sure. The way his lips would feel against mine if I let myself have that thought for more than a second?—
The rush hit fast, pleasure surging through me so hard my breath caught. My body tensed, everything tightening before it shattered. I bit down on my lip, muffling the groan that tried to escape, but his name still slipped out, wrecked and breathless.
I lay there, chest rising and falling, the aftershocks still tingling through me.
Fuck.
I scrubbed a hand over my face, forcing my breathing to even out, but the damage was already done.
I wanted him.
And I was so, so screwed.
* * *
Morning came too soon. I blinked up at the ceiling, my body still heavy with sleep and last night’s dreams already fading. My hand drifted to my stomach, the ghost of heat lingering there, but I shoved the thought aside and swung my legs out of bed. A piss. A quick splash of cold water on my face.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, the house was quiet. Niall was probably out on his morning run—his predictable routine meant I knew exactly when I’d have the kitchen to myself.
The fridge hummed as I swung it open, scanning the contents. The last couple of weeks I’d grabbed a granola bar or a yogurt just to avoid awkward encounters, but things with Niall didn’t feel as tense lately. The ice was thawing, just a little. Enough that actually I felt like cooking for once.
Eggs. Bacon. Hash browns. I pulled the ingredients out, setting up the pan with practiced ease. The scent of sizzling butter filled the kitchen, the crackle of bacon the only sound in the house. It felt... good. Familiar.
On impulse, I plated an extra portion. Niall would be back in about fifteen, and maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t kill me to leave him something.
I grabbed a sticky note, scrawled out a quick message, and stuck it to the plate.
Made extra. Hope you enjoy it—Eli
No smiley face. No fuss. Just... food.
Satisfied, I showered, got dressed, and grabbed my bag before heading out.
Asher was already in his seat when I slid into the chair beside him.
“Morning,” I said, setting my notebook down.
He raised a brow. “You’re way too awake for a Monday morning.”
“Had a good breakfast. And this is my second class of the day. I’m bound to be awake by now.”
That got a knowing look, but before he could say anything, the door opened, and my attention snagged on the broad figure stepping inside.
Niall.
Damp hair curling slightly at the ends. A gray hoodie stretched over his shoulders, sleeves shoved up to his forearms. His usual joggers slung low on his hips, the fabric doing dangerous things to my focus. He scanned the room, face unreadable, and for a split second, our eyes met.
I willed him to sit next to me.
And then immediately questioned why the hell I cared. Clearly, I haven’t learned my lesson where Niall is concerned.
His gaze flicked toward Asher and me, his jaw tightening just a little. There was a beat of hesitation—so brief, I might’ve imagined it—before he moved, heading straight for our row.
“Morning,” he muttered as he dropped into the seat beside Asher.
“Hey, man,” Asher said easily.
“Morning,” I added, studying him for signs of awkwardness.
None. At least, not in a bad way. No tension, no weird stiffness. Just... a slight carefulness, like we were still figuring out the new normal.
Niall pulled out his notebook, tapping the pen absently against the cover. Asher stretched his arms over his head, letting out a dramatic yawn.
“Should I be concerned that you’re both this quiet?” he asked.
I smirked. “Maybe we’re just tired of your voice.”
“Unlikely.” He grinned. “But okay.”
Niall huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head as he flipped to a fresh page. The easy moment settled something in my chest, smoothing out the last of the lingering weirdness.
Professor Williams walked in, setting down her laptop with a decisive click.
“All right, everyone. Let’s talk about consumer behavior.”
Fifteen minutes in, I was halfway through my notes when my phone vibrated against my thigh.
I glanced at the screen. Niall.
Niall: Thanks for breakfast.
A small, stupidly pleased smile tugged at my lips as I thumbed out a response.
Me: No problem. You should eat real food sometimes.
His reply didn’t come immediately. Instead, I watched out of the corner of my eye as he typed... then stopped. The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Dude. Just send it.
Finally, my screen lit up.
Niall: Since you made breakfast, maybe we should hit the store. Get some stuff.
A grocery run. Together.
I wasn’t sure why that made my chest feel weird, but I pushed it down and typed back.
Me: Yeah, sounds good. Tonight?
Another pause. Then–
Niall: Yeah.
A second later, another text popped up—from a different chat, the one with him, Asher and me that Asher had formed because we were doing our group assignment.
Asher: Pay attention in the damn class.
I bit back a laugh and shot back a reply.
Me: Mind your business.
Niall’s response came a second later.
Niall: Shut up, Asher.
I snuck a glance at Niall. He was looking straight ahead, his face perfectly neutral. But his grip on his phone was a little tighter, like he knew exactly what he’d just done.
Damn, he was cute when he was grumpy.
When class ended, Niall stood, stretching out his shoulders.
“I’ve got another class,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
“Later,” Asher said, already moving toward the door.
“Yeah,” I said, watching him for a second longer than I needed to.
Niall nodded, then turned and walked off.
I had no idea why I was already looking forward to later.