Chapter 6 #2
Mum leaves me alone with my thoughts, slipping into the kitchen and tossing Scott’s clothes in the washer.
I head into my bedroom, stripping off and going into the bathroom for a shower.
I step under the water, my eyes flutter closed, and I try to let the water beat away the stress of the evening.
The spray rains down on me. My breathing starts to speed up.
I can feel myself getting angry. Adrenaline courses through my veins.
Now Scott is safe, I want to go back out and find that loser and beat him to a pulp.
I want to pound my fist into his face until he’s unrecognisable.
“Motherfucker,” I grunt out as I clench my fists at my sides.
The heat of the shower adds to my frustration.
“K-K-Killian.” His voice breaks me from my escalation, and I spin around. His eyes are wide as he stares at me for a split second before he drops to his knees in front of the toilet. Scott’s body convulses before he pukes.
I jump out of the shower and kneel beside him.
“Hey, Nerd, you’re okay.” I rub his back.
I stroke up and down while he pukes his guts up before he rests his head on the toilet seat, gasping for breath.
When I look at him, his eyes are barely aware of anything; they roll back, throwing up has taken a toll on him.
So, I scoop him up and take him back to bed.
While I kneel on the bed, I move him onto one side. When I pull away, he wraps his arms around me, dragging me towards him.
I lie down and stuff the quilt between us because I’m still naked.
I tug the covers over his shoulder. He’s out of it, so I stay beside him for a while.
My arm is wrapped protectively around him, listening to the constant rhythm of his breathing, terrified that he’ll puke in his sleep.
My mind races at the thought of losing him or something happening that I can’t prevent.
My eyes sting, dry from being open for so long.
My own breathing finally evens out, and I drift off to sleep.
My alarm wakes me, and I groan. I ache from lack of sleep and hanging on to Scott for dear life all night so I could feel if he needed me.
I shake my head as I sit up. He barely shifts.
His breathing is heavy, and I stare at him.
Part of me wants to wrap him in my arms again, protect him and keep him safe; the other part of me wants to bang pans and throw cold water over him because, fuck, this hangover is gonna be priceless.
Chuckling to myself, I slide out of bed, stretching out my legs and back before wandering into the kitchen, naked.
I flick the coffee machine on before making my way to the bathroom and turning the shower on cold to wake myself the fuck up.
This is gonna be a hella long day. I step under the freezing water and gasp.
Fuck. My palms rest against the wall, and I hang my head under the relentless water as it pounds against the back of my neck.
I blow out a breath and scrub myself down, making sure I’m fully awake.
Rolling my neck, I make my way back into my room.
Scott is still passed out. I shake my head and make a beeline for the coffee machine.
I’m gonna need more than a cold shower to get this day going; caffeine might be my only saviour.
I stare at the coffee and blow across it before taking a sip.
The bitter taste sparks faint flickers of electricity through me, and I wrap my fingers tighter around the cup, taking another sip, and then another.
The buzz spreads over every inch of my body as my cells spark to life. I groan before making another cup. I step back into my bedroom and riffle through my drawers, grabbing some sweats and a tight black T-shirt. I’m going for comfort today. Fuck it.
There are a few hours of appointments booked in my diary, so I’m gonna be busy until at least teatime.
I turn and stare at Scott, his serene face gentle and soft, his dark lashes falling on his cheeks.
His pink lips part as he breathes. I lean in.
His hair has started to wave and kink at the sides, and it’s so adorable.
I lean in close, unable to help myself. I take a gentle breath. I’m that close as I exhale, his hair flutters slightly. I smirk.
“Scott!” I yell out. He screams, bolting upright in the bed as I jump back, and he snatches at his head.
“Ow!” he groans, his eyes flitting around, bloodshot and unfocused.
I bark out a laugh as I take another sip from my second cup of coffee.
“Killian?” He tries to stare around the room, his eyes pinched together, trying to focus. His hand roams over his face as he checks for his glasses.
“Bedside table, Doofus.”
His hand reaches out, patting around until he finds them. He pulls them onto his face, groaning, then flops down before grunting and closing his eyes.
“Killian? Why am I here?”
With a shake of my head, I pass him my cup of coffee.
“Here, dickhead, you might need this.” His eyes crack open, and he stares at me before sitting up and taking it from my hand.
His face contorts at the bitter-tasting, strong black coffee.
But he takes a deep sip, then looks up at me in confusion.
“What happened?”
“You got shit-faced,” I shout, and he winces.
I grin at him, and he scowls at me, but I chuckle.
“I’m going to work,” I yell again. His entire body recoils.
I turn and step through the door. I grin at him and slam it as hard as I can, knowing that’s gonna sting like a motherfucker.
I can’t help but smile as I step downstairs into the shop.
I fill the coffee machine downstairs and turn it on, letting it brew while I wrap my equipment. I pour myself a fresh coffee, adding an obscene amount of sugar, needing more of a kick to get my day started. I print out the stencils while I wait for my client.
The bell rings as the door opens. Dave walks in, grinning from ear to ear, his arms outstretched.
“Killian.” He shakes my hand. “Are we ready?” He rubs his hands together, smiling at me as I turn and grab the stencils, showing him the drawing on my iPad. “Fuck, man, this is gonna be fucking sick.”
“Let’s get the forms filled in, and we can get started.
” I slide the paperwork across the counter, and he reads through them and signs his life over to me.
“Let’s get you inked up.” He rips his shirt over his head, stands in front of the mirror, and I apply the stencils, wrapping them around his bicep. “There, how’s that look?”
He turns and twists before looking back at me. “Perfect.”
I lead him over to the chair and get him comfy, pulling up my stool and positioning my table with the millions of colours he wants on this space-themed, alien pin-up design, which is so bonkers, it looks cool.
The alien in pinks, reds, yellows and oranges, long legs, one straight with pointed toes and the other bent in front, three tits with hard nipples, and a snake-like tongue flicked out, piercing blue eyes with long lashes, surrounded by space and planets behind her.
Her bright green hair billows out and cascades around his arm.
Who am I to judge? He’s the one paying, and his wife is the one who has to look at it. Apparently, she’s paying for this for his birthday. I pick up my tattoo machine. “Ready?”