Signal of Distress

18 - Apart

~ Don't - Bryson Tiller ~
❤︎❤︎❤︎

A reason to keep around but never a reason to stay -River Mitchell

I wake up to a killer headache. I'm talking about the worst migraine in history. I slowly open my eyes and sit up. Rubbing my eyes with the knuckles of my fist. I look around the room noticing it's not mine.

I hear a small groan as the bed shifts. I turn my head to look down at a naked back. A few tattoos, imprinted in his skin. His face is deep in the pillow as his arms stretch over his head.

I immediately look down at the shirt I'm wearing. It's not mine! God, why can't I remember anything from last night. I remember going to the party, the New Years kiss with Owen- never again, arguing with Eli and everything after that is a blur.

I feel under my shirt making sure I'm still wearing panties. I don't feel sore in my lower region so I think it's safe to say I did not have drunk sex.

"Riv?" I hear a deep, sexy, raspy voice.

I look down, meeting a pair of dark brown eyes. "What the fuck am I doing in your bed!" I jump immediately from his bed.

He rolls his eyes. "Riv, it's fine," he assures. His voice is deeper than usual as he's just waking up.

"No, it's not. I'm leaving," I declare. I look around for the dress I was wearing last night. "Where's my dress?" He doesn't bother saying anything as he stares at me. "Eli!" I stand holding my arms out by my side. Eli's shirt luckily comes down to my thighs.

"Right, you threw up all over it. It's in the washer. Just grab my clothes, you can take whatever," he says. I walk over to his closet and open it.

I take a pair of sweatpants and slide them on. A tattooed arm reaches over my shoulder as Eli takes a shirt off the hook. I suck in a breath feeling his breath down my neck.

I turn around to face him. He stares down at me only a few inches away from me. My eyes glide down his body realizing he's only wearing boxers. I shield my eyes with my hands.

He chuckles deeply. "You've seen everything already sweetheart," he whispers. My stomach flips. He takes my hands covering my eyes and pulls them back down to my side.

I look up at him. "We didn't hav-"

"No," he chuckles. "We did not have sex. You were drunk. I was not going to take advantage of you," he explains. I nod.

"Thanks," I mumble.

He places his index finger under my chin lifting my face. My eyes meet his once again. Who knew these eyes could be so fucking intoxicating. "Although we could have sex," he raises a brow.

Ashlyn.

I push him back. "Why don't you go fuck Ashlyn," I suggest. He groans, rubbing his hands down his face.

"We're done. I ended the fake dating thing last night," he reassures. He throws on the t-shirt in his hand and reaches for a pair of jersey shorts.

I shake my head. "You told me it was just for her mom. Her mom wasn't at the party," I point out.

"She needed pictures," he says as he slides on his shorts.

"Why would you help her?"

He sighs, turning back around to face me. This time dressed in clothing. "Because she knows things people don't. And she's good at blackmail," he confesses. No doubt there.