Page 25 of Only for Tonight (Only For #1)

nineteen

Ariella

“W e are going to talk about a lot of things tomorrow.” He sits at the side of my bed and moves the hair away from my face. “All the things.”

“I don’t know if I’m going to have the strength to discuss anything right now,” I mumble at him as my eyes start to drift closed, “so we may have to table it for a bit longer.”

My eyes close and I wait for my head to stop spinning before I drift off.

I don’t know how long I’m asleep before my stomach feels like it’s lurching.

“I’m going to be sick.” I scramble to get off of the bed and rush to the bathroom.

The lights are off and I hold my hands out in front of me to not knock into anything.

Thanking whoever it was who left the light on in the hallway to help guide me to the bathroom.

I don’t bother closing the door before whatever is left in my stomach is now in the toilet bowl.

I hear the water turn on from behind me. “How much longer is this going to go on?” Jaxon says, his voice filled with worry and anger.

I close my eyes and place my head on my arm that is resting on the top of the toilet seat, feeling a cold rag on the back of my neck. “It’s been a few hours now.”

“I don’t know.” I turn when I feel him squatting beside me.

“I want to say this is the last time because there is frankly nothing left inside of me.” He holds out his hand for me, helping me get on my feet.

I walk over to the sink and grab the toothpaste and brush my teeth as quickly as I can.

Sliding into bed with him beside me. “Thank you, Jaxon,” I say softly and his hand comes up to touch my face.

“What are friends for,” he replies, and I want to scream at him that I’m not his friend, but I am his friend. I’m the one who gave him that title. But I was angry and scared and confused and then I started throwing up.

“You might be my best friend, then.” I try to smile the whole time, also trying not to move so I don’t start something. His eyes look like they are about to say something, but I’m too scared to hear it. “I’m going to close my eyes and try to sleep.”

“I’ll be here,” he assures me as I drift away. “I’ll always be here.” That’s the last thing I hear before I finally sleep.

My eyes flutter open, and the wave of nausea hits me right away.

I am so afraid if I move, I’ll end up throwing up on his bed, so I just lie here breathing in and out.

I close my eyes again but then my head starts to spin, making it so much worse.

So I open them again and turn onto my back and look to Jaxon’s side and see he’s not in bed.

Instead, he’s sitting outside watching the water.

I take a quick look at the clock on his side of the bed and see it's almost the middle of the afternoon. I spent the better part of the night rushing to the bathroom to throw up. I didn’t even know I had that much fluid inside of me.

After every single time, I would think this is it, there isn’t anything left in me.

And each and every time it was like psych, joke’s on you, yes there is.

I’m not even going to think about how each time Jaxon was there behind me, seething but still there.

Rubbing my back and then getting me a rag.

The side of the bathroom has a whole fucking mountain of white towels that are soaked right now.

At one point I heard him rush out to the hallway and then come back in with a stack of towels.

I bet he was contemplating not sleeping with me after that time, if not, definitely after.

I don’t think we’ve slept a full two hours in a row.

“Oh, God,” I mumble and then rush out of bed, knowing that it’s coming.

I make it to the bathroom only because there is nothing left inside of me.

It’s all bile that comes up, my stomach aching from throwing up all night long.

Every single time I retch into the toilet my stomach clenches and it hurts.

My whole body is now starting to hurt and I just want it to stop.

“Motherfucker,” I hear rumbled behind me. I sit on my ass and close my eyes, trying to get my stomach to stop lurching at the same time trying to get my head to stop spinning, which is making me even more nauseated.

I inhale and exhale as I hear him moving around the bathroom.

I hear the sound of the water from the sink being turned on and then I feel his hand on my back, rubbing it up and down.

“Baby,” he soothes softly, and I open one eye to test how the light is going to affect my head spinning. “I got you another wet rag.”

I hold out my hand for him and I’m not even exaggerating, but it takes literally all my fucking energy to grab it.

My hand falls down to my thigh when I have it, as I try to muster up the energy to put it on the top of my head or even wipe my mouth.

I feel his fingers touch mine as he takes it from me and slowly washes my mouth.

“I think I got up too fast.” I try to make an excuse but he just looks at me.

“You got up to throw up,” he says, putting his hand on my cheek. “I was watching you from outside.”

“That’s a little creepy”—I smile and try to pretend I’m fucking okay—“don’t you think?”

“Call it whatever you want to call it.” He leans forward to kiss me and I back my head away.

“I literally just barfed in the toilet.” I lift my hand in front of my face and turn my head to the side.

“I was going to kiss your forehead. Now, do you need me to carry you back to bed or are you going to pretend you’re okay but you aren’t?”

“Wow.” I put my hands on the floor beside my hips and try to stand up, but then my arms feel like noodles. “I think I’m just going to stay here for a bit.” He shakes his head. “In case I have to throw up again.”

“I’m getting you back into bed and that is where you’re going to stay.” He bends and takes me in his arms, one hand around my waist, the other under my knees.

“Wait,” I say when he takes one step forward and suddenly stops and looks down at me with fear in his eyes, no doubt thinking I’m going to throw up on him, “I want to brush my teeth.”

“There is nowhere you can sit.” He looks at the double sink vanities he has, but they each have floating shelves under them and it’s empty in the middle.

“I think I can stand for a couple of seconds to brush my teeth,” I tell him as he looks at the sink and then at the ottoman, probably thinking he can place me on the ottoman and then push me to the sink, but it’ll be too low.

“You can stand behind me,” I deadpan and he walks over to the sink and places me down on my legs.

He holds my hips in his hands as I reach for my toothbrush.

“I was kidding.” I look in the mirror, watching him behind me.

A full head over me, his ice-blue eyes feel like they are ice.

“Or maybe not.” I turn on the water in the sink and wet the toothbrush before starting to brush my teeth.

I don’t know why it makes me feel a bit more human.

He stands right behind me the whole time, holding on to my hips, staring at me in the mirror, and I avoid looking back at him with everything I have.

Only because in the middle of brushing my teeth I think I’m going to be sick, and I need whatever energy I have inside of me to deal with that, along with the energy to not buckle at the knees and have him be like, I told you so.

I spit the toothpaste out before grabbing the glass and filling it to rinse my mouth, then making sure my toothbrush is clean before placing it back in the cupholder next to his. “Are you done?” he asks me.

“Minty fresh.” I turn in his arms and his hands grip my hips a bit tighter. “Now if you want to kiss me, I won’t say no.” He smirks and shakes his head.

“Why is it you can get me from getting ready to burn my house to laughing?” he mumbles as he kisses my lips softly.

My hand comes up to hold his cheek. “It’s a talent,” I joke with him.

“It truly is,” he says, his voice soft. “Now, let’s get you into bed.”

“If that is code for you want to have sex with me all day long”—I fold my arms under my chest—“I’m going to have to admit, I’m really not up for it.” I barely get the words out before he’s picking me back up. “Okay, fine, if you do all the work.”

“Shut up, Ari,” he grits out as he makes his way over to the bed and lays me in my place. “Now I’m going to go and get you something to eat. Some saltines, ginger snaps, and I’ll bring up some room temperature ginger ale I had delivered this morning.”

“You had stuff delivered this morning?” I ask, shocked, as I turn around and prop the pillows behind my back. “When?”

“I think it was at around nine,” he guesses, scratching his neck and my eyes roam down from his neck all the way to his shorts just lying on his hips. “I had to call in and tell David I wouldn’t be going with the guys to the children’s hospital today.”

My heart sinks. “You cancelled an event for me?”

“I wasn’t going to fucking leave you here like this.” His teeth are clenched together. “You were up all fucking night.” I close my eyes, trying to not feel like I’m a burden to him and having some sort of guilt about him taking care of me.

“You shouldn’t have cancelled; I would have been fine,” I say softly.

“You think I would have been able to even think about anything else but you if I left?” He shakes his head and ignores me.

“If you have to throw up, you do it in here.” He picks up the stainless-steel garbage bin and places it on the bedside table.

“I’ll be right back after I get this situated. ” He points down to his dick.

I gasp, “Are you going to go and choke the chicken while I’m in bed?”

“Okay.” He holds up his hand. “No one is choking anything, and can we not refer to my cock as a chicken?” He glares. “It’s more like a python than a chicken.” I roll my lips together and try not to laugh. “I’m going to get it under control and then come back up.”

“Under control,” I snort out. “Did me throwing up arouse you?”

“It was you pushing your ass into my cock while you were brushing your teeth. If you were yourself and didn’t look like you were going to faint, I would have lifted one of your legs, placed it on the vanity, and fucked you from behind.

” My mouth waters. “But we’re going to have to save that for another day.

” He winks at me. “I’ll put it on my never-ending list of things I want to do to you. ”

“Okay, please add it to the list.” That’s the only thing I can say as he nods and walks out of the room.

I lean my head back into the pillows and close my eyes, putting my hand on my stomach.

“I’m going to need you to go easy on me today.

” I swear I feel fluttering inside of me and I’m not sure if our child is saying no or laughing at me.

I turn my head to the side and watch the water from his bedroom window.

“I brought everything up,” he announces, walking into the room with a huge tray in his hand.

“I have toast without butter”—he looks at me as he places the tray down in the middle of the bed as he sits on the other side of it—“bananas, water, ginger snaps, ginger ale, and saltines.” He points to everything.

“They said Greek yogurt but that didn’t sound right. ”

“Who are they?” I ask nervously.

“The internet people,” he admits, and I try not to laugh but I smile anyway. “Here, take a sip of the ginger ale.” He hands me the small glass. “It’s also been in that glass since five thirty, so it should be flat.”

“You got out of bed at five o’clock to pour ginger ale in a glass so it would be flat?” I ask him and he nods his head.

“That’s what friends do,” he mocks me and I roll my eyes.

“Still don’t have the energy to argue with you.” I look at him and then at the glass. “If it’s okay, I’m going to stick to water for now.” I reach for the water, having no energy to do anything.

I take a small sip and then sit back, waiting to see how my stomach is going to handle it.

I take another small sip a couple of minutes later.

I put the bottle down on the tray as I look at everything he brought up.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “I’m just going to rest my eyes.

” I close my eyes, and the minute I do, the water does a huge lurch back up.

I reach over for the garbage can and almost fall out of the bed, trying to not throw up on said bed.

He catches me around my waist before I fall off the bed as I throw up all the water I just drank, which wasn’t much, along with more water.

“Ugh,” I groan out, “why am I so sick?” I close my eyes, turning back to bed.

“Can you get me a rag?” I ask him and he nods, grabbing the tray off the bed and placing it on the small table that he has in the corner next to a chair.

I hear the sound of water coming from the bathroom and I can’t help the bile that comes up again.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he swears, “we need to call someone.” The little string of calmness he had is gone. “We need to fucking go to the hospital.”

“I’ll be fine,” I mumble.

“It’s been almost twenty hours that you’ve been throwing up nonstop.” I close my eyes, knowing he’s right and this isn’t really normal. “Ari,” he says my name in a plea, “let’s please go to the hospital.”

“Fine,” I huff out. “Only so I can be the one who can say I told you so.” I toss the cover off of me, standing but then sitting back on my ass just as fast. “Then you are going to have to admit I was right.”