Painting Flowers // Ashton Irwin [au]

Thirty-four

Emilia's POV

I wake up to the scent of maple syrup and bacon. On any other day it would be the most appealing awakening, but today it makes my stomach churn. I don't even remember getting back to the hotel last night. The last thing I can recall is taking shots with the girls at the bachelorette party, but everything after that is blank. I don't like having pieces of my memory wiped from my mind, especially when I was conscious during that time.

I roll over on my side and nestle my head deeper into the pillow. Ashton's voice rings in my ears as he speaks to a man at the door, and I could easily fall back asleep at the sound of his morning rasp. Is it even morning? Did I sleep in?

Ashton thanks the man and sends him on his way. I peek out of one eye, and the sickening sweet and salty scent grows closer. The wheels to the linen-clothed table squeak as Ashton pushes it further into the suite and purposely leaves it by the bed.

"Good morning, Ms. Party Animal," he says, and lies on his stomach next to me.

I cover my nose with the blanket to block out the mouth-watering yet repulsive scent. "I should have listened to you and not drink."

"Feeling sick?" he asks, but the curve on his lips tells me he already knows. "You started throwing up when I got back to the room last night. I was dealing with my own drunkenness, so I wasn't able to stay in the bathroom with you while you had your head in the toilet. It took a lot for me not to join you." He laughs quietly. "I helped as much as I could to get your makeup off and change your clothes, but I could only do so much while I was drunk. I take it you didn't eat much before you drank?"

"I guess not," I say, slowly sitting up and immediately regretting the decision. I feel like I have jetlag again, except this time it feels like I'm on a swing set, trying to swing as high as I can, even though I'm completely still. "If you were drunk last night why don't you have a hangover right now?"

"Oh, I do," he assures with a sigh and he cradles his head in his hands. "I should have taken my own advice. My head feels like I rammed it into a wall repeatedly. Also, I love your voice, but can you bring it down to a whisper for a bit?"

"We weren't the smartest last night."

He tells me of his time at the bachelor party, including Nathan's revelation about Reina. He lifts the mood by telling me about Moana, which I find hilarious yet immature at the same time. He asks about the bachelorette party and I blatantly tell him that I called Natalie a bitch. He finds it hard to believe that I would openly say that to her, and I tell him that she didn't take offense to it and how it actually helped us communicate with each other. Overall, the parties seemed to be successful in one way or another for us.

Ashton sits upright and pulls the cart closer to the bed. He removes one of the silver cloches to reveal a plate of double-stacked pancakes doused in maple syrup and two slices of bacon on the side.

"Since when does room service have pancakes?" I ask, debating whether or not I can stomach the food. "I've looked through the room service menu at least fifty times this week, and I've never seen it on there."

"Gluten-free and all natural fruit crepes weren't going to cure this hangover, so I made a special request."

"You do realize that there's no real cure for hangovers, right?"

"Yes but that doesn't mean I can't indulge myself in a high caloric breakfast that will make me feel a little better. I got you a plate too."

"I'll pass for right now," I say, scrunching my nose when he reveals the breakfast plate underneath the second cloche. "I could go for some water or ginger ale, though."