Chapter 18
Comfort.
A month later.
I woke up with the world’s heaviest arm draped across my chest. Again.
Warmth cocooned me, his body heat bleeding through the thin fabric of my borrowed shirt, his steady breaths fanning against my shoulder. A deep inhale told me the faint scent of his cologne still lingered on the sheets.
Squinting, I registered the Are you still watching?
prompt flashing across El’s TV, the only evidence left of whatever terrible detective show we’d started last night when we got in from the shelter.
His soft snoring rumbled against my side, vibrating through me, and I realized—he was even closer this time.
His chest pressed flush to my back, his slight morning wood nudging against the back of my thighs.
I’d say it was too close, but that would imply I minded. And I didn’t.
A sliver of sunlight forced its way through his blackout curtains, landing directly on my face like some divine punishment. I groaned, shifting away from the light and toward the alarm clock. 6:46 a.m.
Shit.
I had an appointment at 8:30, I needed to get out of here.
With a groan and a shove, I peeled myself from his hold, his warmth instantly replaced by cool air. His face remained half-buried in the pillow, and his hand still lazily stretched toward where I’d been.
El grumbled, his voice thick with sleep, eyes still shut. “What’s the point of an alarm clock if you’re just gonna wake me up before it goes off?”
“You shouldn’t have let me fall asleep in here,” I muttered, rubbing my face. “So it’s your own fault.”
He groaned again, rolling onto his stomach. “You looked peaceful, so I let you rest. It’s not a big deal.”
I swung my legs off the bed, planting my feet on the cool hardwood. “It is a big deal. We shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed anymore.”
El scoffed. “Says who? I’m comfortable, you’re comfortable.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” he asked, voice muffled against the pillow.
I hesitated. Because honestly? I wasn’t even sure anymore.
“It’s wrong.”
That earned an exasperated scoff. “It’s only wrong if you make it more than it is. I’m okay with everything we’ve been doing.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed off the bed, making my way across the room to his bathroom. “Whatever. I’m gonna go shower.”
Shutting the door behind me, I turned on the shower and finally looked at myself in the mirror. I almost screamed at what I saw.
An embarrassingly ugly bun that shouldn’t have belonged to the city’s best hairstylist. A faded Star Wars shirt El had tossed my way last night stretched slightly at the collar from being washed a hundred times. Boy shorts that had, at some point in the night, been completely swallowed by my ass.
Yeah. I was getting way too comfortable here.
I stripped it all off and washed away the comfort, letting the hot water wake me up, burning through the haze of familiarity and reminding me that this wasn’t normal. It wasn’t sustainable.
We talked about it a few weeks ago when I slept over at his place after a night out.
I must’ve drank too much because, at some point in the night, I decided to take off my shirt and spend the night in his arms basically naked.
The morning after that, I told him we shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed anymore.
He agreed, but it seemed like every time an opportunity came up allowing us to sleep together, he took it.
Sure, I should take some of the responsibility, too, but as the days passed, my will to fight drained as well.
Freshly showered, I got dressed quickly. But when I went to grab an extra blouse from the drawer El had cleared for me in his closet, I came up empty. Which meant I had to venture out in just my lace bra and trousers.
Sighing, I pushed open the door and padded into the kitchen, where El stood at the counter, making coffee.
He glanced up, and I watched his gaze drop to my chest slightly before he quickly turned his attention back to the mugs in front of him.
“Oh, so sharing a bed is too far, but walking around topless is cool?”
I glanced down at my bare arms and exposed stomach. My lace bra wasn’t exactly scandalous, but standing in his kitchen, half-dressed, I felt a little too careless—especially after waking up tangled in his sheets again. Still, he was in no position to judge.
“You’re topless right now, Elliot.” I countered. It was a normal occurrence, actually. He slept topless, worked topless, and cooked topless. The man loved having his chest out.
I mean, I would too, if I had those abs.
“Well, it’s my house,” he mumbled, stirring his coffee.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have any clean tops here. I thought I did.”
He handed me my to-go mug, his fingers brushing mine for half a second before he pulled away.
“Did you check upstairs in the guest room?” he asked, taking a sip from his own cup.
Upstairs? I did keep a few things up there from when we decided to sleep separately.
Look how that turned out.
I sighed. “No, I don’t want to walk up the stairs.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “You want me to check for you?”
I perked up. “Could you?”
“If I go up, I’m staying up,” he warned, stretching his arms over his head. His muscles flexed, the light from the kitchen window catching the defined lines of his torso and his insulin pod.
Do. Not. Stare.
“That’s fine. Just throw whatever you find down.”
“Lazy ass.”
“Shut up.”
He smirked as he walked past me, his bare feet shuffling against the floor. One more request came to my mind.
“Oh! And can you call a ride to pick me up, please?” I pouted.
He started ascending the stairs and called out, “Already did. It’ll be here in ten minutes.”
I breathed out in relief. The man was a Godsend.
A few minutes later, I heard him rummaging through the guest room closet.
“There’s a silk blue button-up or a cheetah-print off-the-shoulder.”
I thought about it for a second. “Cheetah print, please.”
He appeared and leaned over the railing, dangling the fabric for a moment before tossing it down. I caught it effortlessly, feeling smug.
“Nice catch,” he praised.
I waved it in victory before pulling it on, the soft fabric cool against my skin.
He leaned against the banister, one hand gripping the railing as he studied me. “What’s your plan for today?”
I fastened the button on my sleeve, smoothing the shirt over my torso. “I have an appointment in an hour, then again at twelve. Late lunch with a few clients, then another appointment at three. You?”
“Meeting with an editor at ten.”
My brows lifted. “You excited?”
“A little.”
I took a sip of the coffee he made for me, watching him. “Can I see it?”
“When it’s done.”
The same answer, as always. He kept the details so guarded that I wasn’t even allowed in his office, as he said it ran the risk of potential spoilers.
“By the way, it debuts at a con in a few weeks. I’d love for you to come.”
“Of course, Puddin’,” I grinned. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
He grinned in return. I sat by the door to put on my shoes when he asked, “What are we doing for dinner?”
“Want me to cook again?”
“No,” he locked eyes with me. “You deserve a break. Let me take you out.”
“Hm,” I moaned at the idea of free food, securing the buckles of my heels. “I want steak.”
“I’m on a red meat detox, Ellie.”
I snorted. “You just had a burger from Jimmy’s two days ago.”
“It was plant-based.”
I shot him a look. “Liar. You hate plant-based.”
“Yeah, because it’s fucking disgusting.”
I grinned, slipping into my coat as I heard the ride pull up. “What about Tony’s? Pasta sounds really good. Plus, it’s jazz night.”
He considered it, nodding slightly. “Deal. Nine?”
“Perfect,” I smiled, opening the door. “See you later.”
“Text me,” he called out after me.
I met his gaze. “I always do.”
?
“I mean, why even take my number if you’re not gonna call?” Esther huffed, slumping into her chair.
London didn’t even look up as she twirled a comb between her fingers. “He’s probably just playing hard to get.”
Hope scoffed under her breath, barely hiding the snide twist of her lips. “He’s already hard to want.”
Chelsea’s head snapped toward her. “Stop.”
Their bickering faded into the background for me.
I was too busy trying to hold in laughter as I stared down at my phone.
Elliot was on a roll again—sending meme after meme, each one more ridiculous than the last, probably fueled by his chaotic Millennial brain.
One of the GIFs made me snort into my cup, completely losing composure.
Esther caught it instantly. “Something funny, Ellie?”
I glanced up, still grinning like an idiot. “Just Elliot being stupid.”
Her brow lifted slightly, “You two have been getting pretty close lately.”
I shrugged, not even bothering to deflect. “Yeah. I know.”
She leaned against her station, arms folded like she was settling in for the tea. “And you’re always all blushy and smiley when you talk about him. The sex that good, huh?”
I choked on air. “What? El and I never had sex.”
The salon fell into stunned silence. Even the soft hum of London’s blow dryer came to a stop.
“Still?” Esther blinked at me like she couldn’t have possibly heard right.
I cleared my throat uncomfortably and tried to keep my face neutral. “Yes. We’ve never even kissed.”
Esther’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “But you’re always at his house.”
“So? We’re friends. I’ve crashed at Hope’s place too, and you and I live together.”
Hope tilted her head, eyes sharp. “Yeah, but he’s a man. He’s always buying you stuff and taking you out. You’re saying he’s getting nothing in return?”
I slouched a little in my seat. “Well… I wouldn’t say nothing. We enjoy each other’s company.”
But Hope wasn’t letting it go. Her gaze narrowed like she was picking apart a puzzle. “Ellie, cut the bullshit. You sleep in his bed every night.”
I shrugged again, casual, as if the whole thing didn’t suddenly feel weird under this much scrutiny. “We like to cuddle.”
Esther gave me a long, slow look.“Girl.”