Chapter 14 #2
“Do not puke in my car,” Mr. Easton warned, rolling down my window. “You can puke, but please wait until I get you home.” His pleading made me smile.
Unable to answer him, I put my head out the window and realized why dogs did it.
It is delightful.
The sweat dried, leaving my face feeling grainy, but at least I didn’t feel as if the contents of my stomach were revolting with the wind keeping me company. My heavy head pressed against my forearm, the cold air slapping my gritty face.
This is my new low.
“Do you need help getting into your house?” Mr. Easton’s words crashed into me. I had drifted off, something I’d done twice now in his car.
Maybe he has a toxic leak of some sort in his car. Is sulfur toxic?
“I think I have it.” My voice was as thick as my tongue I’d just pried off the roof of my mouth.
“Sure you do.”
Before I could protest, he gently opened my door since all of the weight of my head was on it and unbuckled my seatbelt.
He gently carried me into my house, acting like he was afraid my broken soul would crack and bleed all over the floor.
Inside, the stifling air of my living room had my stomach churning.
I launched myself out of Mr. Easton’s gentle arms and stumbled to my bathroom, wanting to be as far away from him as I could, before slamming my knees on the tile and vomiting.
My hair was lifted off my sticky neck, and a cool washcloth replaced the heavy strands. A moan escaped me while I held onto the cool porcelain with all my might.
“I’m going to draw you a bath.”
I nodded, wanting to flush away my embarrassment.
“Can you draw a knife across my throat instead? Or maybe your letter opener when you get it from Cole?”
He huffed and a small smile tugged at my lips. Getting Mr. Easton to show any emotion that wasn’t disgust was an accomplishment.
“Sorry, you’re not worth the jail time, and the letter opener is an artifact.”
A shuddering breath assaulted my battered throat, and to my utter mortification another one followed the first.
“Fuck, are you crying?”
“No,” I lied, crying even louder.
“Fine, I’ll kill you with the letter opener.”
I laughed.
How the hell does this man make me laugh?
“Please tell me you can get into the bathtub without my help.”
“I’ve been getting undressed for over two decades, I think I can manage it,” I lied.
On shaky legs, I leaned against the sink and brushed my teeth twice, and used mouthwash once, because that shit was nasty and I didn’t want to ruin my hard work of brushing by vomiting again.
“I’m fine. You can leave me alone.”
“Fuck, I know that tone. You just lied,” he said, letting out a pained sigh.
“You don’t know my lying voice,” I screeched, hurting my already abused throat.
Without giving my knees permission to do so, I sank to the bathroom floor, my teeth cleaning mission complete.
Clutching my stomach, I scooted on my ass toward the bathtub.
Bubbles crested the side with steam curling toward the ceiling. It looked like heaven.
Still on my ass, I scooted closer to the tub. My skin felt hot and sticky. In the most unladylike fashion, I dry heaved while I huddled on the floor. Completely depleted of energy, I laid my forehead on the side of the tub.
“The bath normally works when you’re inside of it.”
I jumped from his voice. “I thought you left,” I whispered, too tired to lift my head.
“I’m not losing the chance of having that letter opener because you’re too incompetent to get into the bath.”
I snorted. “Well, let’s get you your weapon.” I lifted my arms up.
A wheeze pushed out of his throat, giving me the strength to push off the cool ceramic.
“You can use your satanic fire to burn the dress off if you don’t want to help me take it off,” I teased.
“You aren’t worthy of summoning my demonic fire.” His gait was stilted when he walked across my tiny bathroom.
His fingers were hot when he grasped the hem of my dress and lifted it off.
“Burn it,” I said, not nearly as embarrassed as I should’ve been being naked in front of him. “Burn it with your hell fire.”
“You’re so weird,” he said, while he unhooked my bra with the precision of a surgeon.
“That feels so good.” I shivered when my breasts grazed the side of the bathtub. “Men will never understand the amazingness of taking your bra off.”
“It’s a shame,” he replied.
Then I was lifted off the tile I’d just got warm. I rested my forehead on him when he bent over and pushed my underwear down. My shiver was for a whole different reason.
Before I could figure out why my emotions were rebelling against me, I was surrounded by hot, soothing water.
“Fuck, this feels even better than taking my bra off.”
I opened my eyes just in time to see Mr. Easton’s back leave my bathroom.
“I never took you for a prude,” I called out, taunting him, not wanting to be alone. My taunt landed on deaf ears because he didn’t even pause.
Relaxing in the tub, I closed my eyes, letting the water do its job.
“Here.”
I jumped, sloshing water over the side of the tub.
“Shit, sorry, did I get your shoes wet?”
“No, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have scared you. I didn’t want you falling asleep in the tub.”
“Can’t ruin your chances of getting your letter opener, can we?”
“Exactly. Maybe you aren’t brainless after all.”
We grinned at each other before Mr. Easton thrust out a bottle of water with pain pills. “Drink and take these.”
Mr. Easton shocked me again by folding up a towel and sitting down on the floor, leaning against my vanity.
“Thank you,” I muttered after downing the whole bottle of water.
“You’re still wearing your ring,” he said, not acknowledging my appreciation.
I glared down at the offending jewelry, forgetting it was even there. “I should have shoved it down his throat.”
“That would have been exciting.”
I sniffled at his words.
“Fuck, what did I say now?”
“He said I wasn’t exciting enough and I was too settled for him,” I explained, reliving Bradford’s departure.
“Not exciting. He’s a moron. Since meeting you, you’ve slugged me in the back of the head, elbowed my kidney, made me buy my first energy drink, feared for the interior of my car numerous times, one for drool, one for vomit, you’ve vomited in front of me, and got naked. What more would he want?”
I shook my head, gathering bubbles in my hand. “I promise, I’m not that exciting. I tried to have a threesome tonight,” I admitted. For some reason, I felt I could tell him. Mostly because I knew he was judging me already, so what was one more reason for him to despise me?
He cleared his throat, a nervous tick I’d noticed. “How does one try to have a threesome?”
I sighed, blowing the bubbles out of my hand. “Jules showed me a website where you can sign up to be a unicorn. Do you know what a unicorn is?”
He nodded.
“Interesting, we’ll have to go back to that.”
He rolled his eyes. “Continue.”
“Anyway, I was an asshole and judged Jules because I was so smug in my relationship with Bradford and I felt bad for her, because she didn’t have a relationship. Ugh, I’m a dick for a friend.”
“Rachel, one topic at a time, please.”
“Sorry. Anyway, when Bradford broke up with me after I cooked his favorite dinner and told me how unexciting I was, it broke me. I tried to call Jules, and when she didn’t answer, I thought I could experiment on my own.
I logged into and found a lovely couple.
We decided to meet tonight, but as I was driving to their house, I chickened out. They caught me running away.”
“How did they catch you?”
I didn’t want to tell him about killing Gnomen. Poor Gnomen.
“They came out of their house, but they said they also didn’t want to go through with the threesome.
I cried saying nobody wanted me, and they invited me to have dinner with them.
They were really nice,” I sniffled. “I left, but still hadn’t heard from Jules and I didn’t want to be alone, so I decided to go to Louie’s bar instead, and that’s where you came in.
” I rolled my wrists like I’d just finished the most entertaining story.