Loving Him (Ashton Irwin a.u.)

Chapter 28

The next morning I woke up alone with my head groggy and my eyelids heavy. I felt disoriented and lost. It took a minute or so for me to remember where I was, and as soon as I remembered the where I remembered the why.

"Shit," I whispered to myself as I slowly sat up and rubbed my hands over my face.

Sounds coming from outside my room woke me up - Peter was cooking again. I gradually got up out of bed, holding onto the bed frame as I felt a headrush coming on, then shuffled out into the kitchen.

"Morning," I greeted Peter, but my voice was hoarse and cracking.

He turned around and smiled at me, a pan of eggs frying in one hand and a silicone spatula in the other. "Morning, sleepyhead," he replied, his voice smooth and thick like honey.

"What time is it?" I asked as I slipped onto a bar stool, resting my elbow on the counter and my chin in the palm of my hand.

"Only 7, but I couldn't sleep. I hope I didn't wake you."

I shook my head. "No, you didn't wake me. Why couldn't you sleep?"

Shrugging, he replied, "Couldn't get comfortable."

I looked around his apartment, thinking I could get all too comfortable around here, I don't know why he can't, before my eyes landed on a pile of blankets and pillows laid out neatly on his sofa. Having put two and two together, I turned to him with shock on my face. "You slept on the couch?" He shrugged again, but didn't reply. "Would you stop that?"

Chuckling lightly to himself, he apologised, and turned round grin at me again. "Alright, I'll stop."

"Thank you," I huffed. He had avoided the question, but I didn't really care anymore. I knew he had slept on the sofa, and I was making it my mission to make sure he wouldn't sleep there another night. Clearing my throat, I continued, "So, uh, I'll get out of your hair as soon as my ex leaves my building, hopefully today."

"Don't worry," he insisted as he put a plate of delicious fried foods on the counter in front of me. "Take all the time you need. It can get lonely sometimes with just me here."

"Well you're not sleeping on the couch anymore, so I kinda have to go."

Peter stopped joking around for a second, and his voice became low andstern, his expression firm. "If it's here or there with him, I'd like you to stay here, OK?"

I sighed. "I really can't stay."

"But baby, it's cold outside," he sang with a smirk on his face and no hint of tune in his voice. Ashton was a far better singer. Then again, Ashton was a dick, so what did it matter.

"Alright, Michael Bublé."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By the time midday had arrived I had decided it was about time I went back to my apartment, but after what felt like a lifetime of bickering I had no choice but to take Peter with me.

"I'll be your bodyguard," he promised with a genuine smile.

"Is that another song?"

"No, I came up with that one all by myself!" he announced, puffing out his chest to display his pride in his achievement.

"Bravo."

He followed me up the stairs to my flat, carrying his duffel bag containing my clothes for me as we went. "Are you always like this?"