TONY: Book 1 of The De Luca Brothers Series [COMPLETED]

37:

Holy shit.

I groan and roll over onto my front, burying my pounding head into my pillow, never wanting to drink again. All I remember is doing beer pong and then it's darkness; frankly, I'm quite scared of what I could have done. Morgan is known to bring out the worst in me, from dancing on tables to influencing me to do bad decisions. I roll onto my side and through slitted eyes, I notice someone had slept next to me last night, a remising strand of bright orange hair and the smudge of makeup on my other pillow tells me it's Morgan. I'm surprised we even made it to my dorm since I completely blacked out.

"Morning," whispers a voice from the other side of the room. I roll over and am surprised to see it's Tony, looking sexy as always. The annoyance of his disappearance for a day resurfaces; I turn my back to him. He sighs, the low breath loud and clear for me due to his disappointment. He's disappointed? Bitch, I got drunk to forget my disappointment.

"Morgan left an hour ago, Nate explained what happened. You getting drunk like that? You're going to kill your liver," Tony tuts, moving to sit on my bed.

I tense but don't reply, praying for relief as my head continues to explode. Who does he think he is? Ditching me for a day then acting like he cares- even though I know he does- he has no right to act like this. No apologies, no excuses, just plain ol' lectures to worsen my hangover.

"So I was wondering if you'd like to come to the mansion today to officiate your membership," Tony asks but I still don't reply. What day is it? I have a feeling it's the weekend, I really want to visit the homeless shelter again and see Big Al. I haven't done that for a while.

"Don't ignore me Zachary," he growls, lightly prodding at my elbow. I retaliate, causing him to retrieve his hand. Another sigh, before he stands up and moves around the room. It takes all of my willpower to not turn and see what he's doing.

He taps me on the head, I finally look. He offers a bottle of water and a pill (Advil) with a small smile on his face, but a thunderstorm in his eyes. I begrudgingly take it, muttering a thanks and sit up, drinking before awkwardly looking at him, "Where were you?"

"Somewhere," he responds. "Why did you go out partying?"

"'Cause I wanted to."

"What's the real reason Zachary? Why'd you go out with Morgan?"

"What answer are you looking for? To say that I missed you and was upset and wanted to drink away my issues? Partly, I'll admit. However I told Morgan I'm quitting college to be with you, so we celebrated! We had the time of our lives, even if I don't remember half of what happened."

His brows furrow, "So you're certain you're joining?"

"No shit Sherlock," I mumble. "I love you, the gang seems like my best bet. It's a win win scenario- plus the only way to be with you is to be in this stupid, little, illegal thingy in the first place."

"'Stupid, little, illegal, thingy'?" He quotes, smiling lightly.

"Piss off," I grumble and hide under my bedsheets.

He laughs, before diving under the sheets with me, grabbing me and smushing me to his chest. Yelping, I breathe him in, his familiar smell encompassing me like a familiar hug, shiver run down my spine and my cheeks blush a brilliant red. He rolls until I'm beneath him, despite my painful headache and unsettled stomach, I can't help but admire his stunning features from beneath the sheets, a wicked smirk on his face but a caring glint in his eye. I meet him halfway and gently kiss him, dismissing morning breath and alcohol, just him.

He leans back and smiles, "I love you."

"I love you too," I whisper. "Where were you yesterday?"

He sighs and rolls off of me, raising the sheets to see my face, "Boxing. I had... a lot on my mind."

"You mean me?"

He pauses.

"I'm not mad," I admit. "Frustrated- hell yeah- but I'm not angry. I get you needed to blow off some steam, or you didn't agree with my life changing decision, or everything was too overwhelming. But if we want to be a couple, we need to learn how to compromise."

"Compromise," he copies. "So like if I want A, you want C, we'll have B?"

"Meet each other halfway," I nod.

He grins, "I like."

I kiss him again, again and again. Nothing particularly lustful of sexual, just passionate, intimate and sweet. Tue perfect way to nurse a hangover in my opinion. He finally pulls away and I jokingly pout, only for him to ask me question, "How would you feel to come to one of my boxing matches?"

"I'd love that," I admit. "Are you good in the ring?"

"They don't call me Il Toro for nothing Zachary," he teases and I role my eyes. "I'm renowned for my fights, which is why we're perfect: you're a pacifist, I'm a monster."

"You're not a monster, you're just a baby who loves to throw tantrums," I taunt.

His brows furrow, "I don't—"

"'Cause you're my baby, fuck yeah you're going to stir an uproar if you don't get you way, hence why you'll stop at nothing until you reach you desire."

"You are something else," he laughs.

"Something else, but not a pacifist. I'll kick guys in the balls if I need to, let me tell you, I have a mean kick."

"I bet you do," he mumbles.

"I'm not sure whether that's supposed to sound sexual or fearsome but I'm going to kiss you anyway."