❝In which two people call up a helpline in order to find someone just as broken as they are. ❞
"Does...does it bother you that my dad's in prison for murder?"
"Well, judging by the fact that I moved away from America to get away from the memory of a...
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"You are not sleeping on the floor!" Elliot repeated for what seemed to be the thousandth time, glaring at Isabella who stood opposite him with her hands placed defiantly on her hips. The argument had been going on for several minutes now, the dispute becoming so exhaustingly long that Elliot had to physically refrain from depositing her onto the bed himself. There was no way in hell that he was letting her sleep on the floor. She was his guest for god's sake.
"Well, you aren't either!" Isabella yelled back, trying to distract herself from the fact that he was wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. It would have been a lot easier to argue with him if he wasn't so damn attractive. "It's your bed, you sleep in it." Her mind was so fogged by fatigue that she didn't quite understand how ridiculous this argument was. All she wanted to do was sleep, and apparently, she couldn't do that in a bed. For some reason. Apparently, the floor looked more inviting than the nice, warm, cosy bed. That Elliot should sleep in. Totally. Because it was his bed and he didn't deserve to sleep on the floor. But it looked so inviting...no. Isabella. Bad Isabella. It's Elliot's bed, Isabella. God, she didn't even know anymore. She just wanted to sleep.
With this in mind, she grabbed the fluffy blanket off the end of Elliot's bed and laid it down on the floor. Not even bothering to change out of her clothes and into the pyjamas Elliot's mum had lent her, she kicked off her shoes and laid down. She ignored Elliot's shrieks of protest and settled down on the cold, hard, wooden floor beneath the blanket. The blanket, unsurprisingly, did not provide much extra comfort to the uncomfortable situation. In fact, she considered stealing the pillow off of the bed. He deserved the bed, sure, but surely he could spare a pillow if he had a mattress...but could she really be bothered to move? She was so exhausted that her eyes had already cl-
Her dreamy thoughts of sleep were interrupted by the shifting of the blanket that she had cocooned around herself. It was soft at first, slightly rocking her body from side to side as something tried to get it out from underneath the right side of her body. But it was obviously too much of a delicate task because, with one harsh tug, the whole blanket was gone. It was placed over her again in a matter of seconds. But this time it was warmer. Somehow. Although the emitter of heat wasn't in direct contact with her, she could tell it was there. That and she could hear it breathing right in front of her face. The heat somehow made her uncomfortable position more comfortable. Which seemed crazy. Ridiculous. Maybe she was just really, really tired. "What are you doing?" She mumbled, not really having the energy to open her eyes.
