Only, Always, and Forever You

16 - Princess

Amara's POV:

I wake up with a raging headache. I look around to see that I'm in my own room, but how I got here is a mystery.

A mystery, that is, until I look at who else is in my bed...

"Good morning, princess," he whispers, his morning voice still raspy and rough.

I blush at the endearment, before beginning to blush for a completely different reason. I am currently curled up into his side, resting my head and hand on his chest. I can feel his heartbeat underneath his thin shirt and I can trace the outlines of his toned body.

My eyes widen, "Oh my gosh, we didn't— you know..."

"No, I don't do that with drunk girls who can't consent," he assures with a chuckle, "But if you want to 'you know' I'm sure we could make it a date?" He smirks slyly and wiggles his eyebrows up and down, using my own phrase against me.

I playfully slap his chest and try to get up from my bed, to no avail. My head is throbbing and I feel like I'm about to hurl. So I decide that now is a good time to go to the bathroom.

I rush to the toilet and bend over it, throwing up everything in my body. Just as I reach the toilet, I feel my long hair being pulled out of my face and behind my head. I groan out of embarrassment, knowing that Cole is watching me throw up my guts.

I finish emptying my body, and I lean back against the wall to regain some of my strength.

"Please tell me I'm just having a nightmare and you didn't just watch me violently throw up," I groan, putting my face in my hands.

"I've seen worse, trust me," he reassures me with a light chuckle and a soft grin, to which I apologetically smile back, "Just brush your teeth and get ready. As much as I love that little dress of yours, I know you'd feel better in clean clothes. I'll go get you some breakfast. I'll be back soon."

I blush at his comment on my dress, Ella's dress, and with that he gets up and leaves the bathroom. A minute later I hear the front door open and close.

I sit there, on the floor, for a few minutes, trying to process what happened last night. I only remember things in blurs, and I have no coherent memories. The only things I remember are taking shots, dancing a lot, and taking more shots.

Even though I don't remember much, I have a feeling that Cole will be sure to remind me of all of the embarrassing things I did last night.

Speaking of Cole...

He brought me back home, stayed over in my room, took care of me while throwing up, and is now getting me breakfast? He was just ignoring me, but now it's like he forgot all about it...

One minute he wants nothing to do with me, and the next he is happily taking care of me. My head still hurts too much to be thinking about his bipolar-ness, so I'm just grateful he's in a good mood today.

* * *

After showering and brushing my teeth, I feel much better. My head still hurts, so I took an Advil, but other than that I'm no longer feeling nauseous.

I changed from Ella's dress into Nike Pros and a large, oversized Grateful Dead T-shirt, which seems more like a dress on my short frame.

It isn't long before I hear the apartment door open and close again, followed closely by the glorious smell of food.

I practically sprint into the kitchen, where I see Cole and a large bag of takeout. It's from a family-run bakery located all the way across town.

"Thank you, but you didn't have to get me this. I know how far this bakery is," I reason, trying to sound as grateful as possible while scolding him for driving so far just for little old me.

"I wanted to. But don't think all of this is for you. I couldn't walk into the best bakery in the county and not get something for myself, too. Plus, you were a handful last night— I need to refuel," Cole teases with a smirk.

I groan, "Was I really that bad? Ugh! I don't even want to know..."

"Too bad, princess, because I'm gonna tell you all about it," he teases again.

He goes on to tell me about how I was 'dry-humping' Kyle Weston— his words not mine. He also tells me about how I told him he smells good, to which I die of embarrassment, putting my face in my hands and groaning yet again. Finally, he tells me all about how pouty I was and how I was the one who asked him to stay over.

God, Amara!! I'm never getting drunk again; this is too embarrassing!!

"Don't be too embarrassed, you're cute when drunk," he shrugs and I blush.

"Wait, so you don't think I'm cute when sober? That's low Anderson," I tease him back, finally having the upper hand.

"Never said that, princess," he smirks in response, and I find myself blushing even more.

Usually I cringe at endearments and pet names, but something about the way he says it gives me butterflies. It just flows so effortlessly out of his lips.

But just as those butterflies enter my body, I kick them right back out. I'm reminded of how he pretended I didn't exist after Saturday. It just feels fake when he uses an endearing name after avoiding me for days. I decide to bring it up.

"Cole, if I ask you something will you answer honestly?"

He sits up straight and a serious expression wavers on his face for a second before his infamous smirk returns, "When am I not serious?"

I give him a look that say 'be for real,' and he drops the smirk, nodding his head in surrender.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" I blurt before my anxiety can get to me.

"I haven't been avoiding you," he lies, but I send him another 'be for real' look and he sighs, "Okay, fine, I have been avoiding you, but it's not what it seems like."

"Then what is it?" I reply softly, urging him to continue and dropping any antagonistic tone.

"I just..." he starts quietly, looking at the ground, "I just couldn't watch you get hurt again because of me."

I stand there silently for a moment, every thought running through my mind. I wanted to say what I felt on Saturday, but I couldn't get it out. So, I suppose that now is the time to say it...

"Cole, look at me," I say gently, to which he lifts his head and looks at my eyes, "You're a good person. I wouldn't still be here if I didn't truly believe that. I know you didn't mean what you said the other day, so I forgave you because I wanted to- not just because you apologized."

His body softens for a second before it tenses again, "You say that, but you don't know what I'm capable of, what I've done—"

I cut him off by enveloping him in a hug. He doesn't move for a second, but is quick to return it, wrapping me in his large arms and pulling me into his firm chest. Because of the stark height difference, he can rest his head on top of mine, and I feel safe in his arms.

"I do know what you're capable of," I assure him, speaking into his chest, "You drive me to and from places because you know I don't like the subway. You take care of me when I'm drunk, or throwing my guts up, or hungover. You drive all the way across town to get me food from a bakery because you know it's the best. You are a good person. I just wish you could see that."

He had already been holding me in his arms, but after hearing my words he holds me tighter and closer than before. I can feel his heart racing in a way that mirrors mine, and I feel safe listening to the rhythm.

"I'm taking you somewhere today," he practically whispers.