☆Blaze☽

Chapter 10:

After a few moments of him driving and me staring out the window while humming Young Volcanoes, he thrust a bottle into my hand.

            “What is it?” I asked incredulously, eyeing the bottle of clear liquid. I tipped it back and forth a few times, listening to the slosh the liquid made, and the cold feeling of the plastic in my hands.

            “It’s water.” Beatle replied in a ‘duh’ tone.  My lips formed an ‘o’ and my eyebrows arched in realization. I guess it did look like water. But water and vodka kind of look the same, so how was I supposed to know?

            “Drink it.” He pushed it into my chest, my hands still clutching the sides. He gave me a look that meant he was serious, and I was starting to feel sick. I closed my eyes and fought internally with the overwhelming need to vomit all over his windshield.

            I unscrewed the cap and began to drink the water, after the first few sips I felt significantly worse, but I knew I needed to drink it to rehydrate myself. I watched enough MythBusters to know all the myths about drinking, like taking an aspirin before you drank to avoid hangovers. Obviously that wouldn’t work; it would wear off, unless you have some industrial strength aspirin that hasn’t been invented yet.

            I also tried to avoid acetylsalicylic acid and other analgesics since my science fair project. My hypothesis was that aspirin would increase the growth of plants in small doses. All my plants turned yellow and their leaves shrivelled, the ones getting the higher dosage died. Not to mention the fact that they were radishes and didn’t produce any during the trial period. There’s no way that could possibly be healthy in my books.

            The car came to an abrupt stop, which caused me to groan as I poured water down the front of my shirt. The thin, white material clung uncomfortably to my chest. I pulled at it and Beatle watched in amusement.

            “It’s not funny.” My words were slightly slurred, and the faint blurriness had me rubbing my eyes under my glasses.

            “Sure it’s not.” He sent me one of his breathtaking smiles, one that I almost appreciated more while intoxicated. He pushed the door open and stepped out, leaving me confused and slightly dazed.

            I peered out the window into the darkness of the night, only barely being able to make out the white brick outline of what I knew to be Beatle’s house. I struggled with the door handle, losing my grip on it multiple times before successfully opening it and slipping out of the car.

            Beatle was waiting by the side to grip my arm and pull me towards his house. I wasn’t that drunk, I could still walk.

            But then again, isn’t that what everyone says?

            My head felt light, almost like it was floating, as we trudged up his driveway and towards the door. The porch light was on, illuminating the front of the house in an eerie green colour. It must have been some sort of bylaw that you had to have your porch lights on at night.

            We climbed the few stairs to the door, I tripped on the top one and he had to catch me before my face met the black railing that encircled the porch.

            Beatle pulled back the screen door, and turned the knob on the wood door behind it tentatively. It made a noise and refused to turn any further. He swore and began to pat his pockets for keys.

            The door suddenly sung open, revealing a middle aged woman. She was petite, with long black hair that had a slight wave to it, and big blue eyes – similar to Robyn. She was wearing a purple night gown with the strings tied into a bow at the front.  Her eyebrows were furrowed and she had a hand on her hip, looking at Beatle expectantly.

            “Uh, hi, Mom.” The raven haired boy smiled sheepishly at his mother, looking more innocent than I had ever seen him. It was a new look, one that I wasn’t familiar with.

            “Where have you been? Is he drunk?” I was about to say that I wasn’t, but decided that probably wasn’t the best idea, seeing every time I opened my mouth I either wanted to upchuck all over Beatle’s shoes or tell him how beautiful I thought he was. Neither option was one that I was satisfied with.

            She gave him a serious look before her expression softened and she sighed, moving out of the doorway. “Get your ass inside.”

            He pushed me through the entrance and into the foyer, the small woman surveying me. I suddenly didn’t know whether to take my shoes off or not, I felt like I wouldn’t be staying here long.

            “Take him upstairs, and then we are going to have a little chat.” She dropped a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before placing it back on her hip. Her voice was icy, and I almost felt scared for Beatle.

            “Jillian? Is Lennon home?” Another woman appeared; I assumed it to be Beatle’s other mother. She was taller, and slightly larger than Jillian. She was wearing navy sweatpants and a black tank top, and had short brown hair.

            Her eyes settled on me, and she gave me a soft smile.

            “Who’s your friend?”

            “That’s La-“

            “I’m Elliot.” I said with a smile, trying my best to pronounce my words at much as possible. I stuck out my hand to her and she gave me an odd glance before shaking it with a smile.

            “I’m just going to show him to my room.” He sounded so polite, it wasn’t something I was used to, or would expect from Beatle.

            He pushed me towards the stairs, I stumbled a few times, but he always stopped me before I fell backwards down the stairs. I couldn’t say the same for the few times I fell forwards and onto my face. All I’m saying is thank God they have carpeted stairs.

            He pushed me into his light blue bedroom, and thought for a minute before pointing to another door.

            “That is to the bathroom. Throw up in my room and you die, understand?” I nodded rapidly and he disappeared back down the stairs.

            I threw myself onto his bed, bouncing a few times before lying still. I crawled up to where his pillows were and breathed into one. Amazed at how much it smelled like him- and how much I liked that smell. I held the pillow close to me like it was teddy bear. Breathing in the scent of Beatle. I would put it back and he would never even know what I was doing.

            Or at least that was my thought in the moment before Beatle came back through the door. He gave me a strange look followed by a wicked smile, one that made my stomach flip.

            “What are you doing?” He asked with a smirk. I sat up on his bed, placing the pillow onto my lap.

            “Nothing.”

            He let out a bark of laughter and walked over to his closet, sliding the door open. He unbuttoned his shirt and it dropped to the floor. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I found him so enticing. The way you could see the muscles of his back when he reached up to grab pants from the top rack, and the faint outline of abs that decorated his stomach made me feel queasy. Or maybe that was the alcohol.

            I ran through the door he had pointed me towards earlier, dropping to my knees in front of the toilet. He was there in an instant, standing behind me and rubbing my back soothingly.

            I sat there for near three minutes, wishing I could throw up. But apparently my body had other plans. I heard that once you threw up you would feel better; I guess I would never know.

            “You good?” Beatle asked from behind me. I propped an elbow up on the toilet bowl and used it to hold my head up as I nodded.     He laughed again and grabbed my arm, pulling me to my feet.

            He walked back into his room, and I followed slowly. I wanted more than anything to just sit in his bathroom and try to throw up all night. But I didn’t think falling asleep on someone’s bathroom floor was a turn on.

            I fell back onto his bed again as he resumed his post in front of his closet, changing his clothes. I watched with enjoyment as his uniform pants pooled around his ankles. He stepped out of them and then his fingers were playing with the rim up his red boxers.

            I realized that if I didn’t look away right now I was going to have a bigger problem than wanting to throw up. But I couldn’t look away.

He hooked his thumbs into them and for a second it look liked he was just going to take the off. Then he turned to me and smirked. He was teasing me. I let my jaw fall open for a second and he grabbed another pair of boxers and disappeared into the bathroom. He knew I was watching him, that’s what he wanted.

I huffed and covered my face with the pillow, groaning into it loudly. I heard the door creak open loudly, and I threw the pillow off of my face and somewhere randomly in the room. My hand wiped across my face awkwardly. I was so not ready to face Beatle after that.

“Before you talk, just… don’t.” I let out in a sigh, staring up at the white ceiling. The pale blue and white of his room made me feel like I was in the clouds somewhere.

“Why not?” A voice asked, and it was definitely not Beatle’s.                                                      

“Robyn?” I looked over to the door, the small girl standing in her Bob the Builder pajamas, her hair tightly pulled into a ponytail.

“Elliot.” She smiled at me, she was missing a tooth that must have fallen out since the last time I saw her. She came near me but stopped once she was within a few inches of my face.

“You’re stinky!” She squealed loudly, and then Beatle came bursting out of the bathroom and into his room, a less than happy expression on his face.

“Robyn! Go back to bed.”

“That’s no fair! How come you get him all to yourself?” The little child threw her arms up into the air and then settled them on her hips, baring amazing resemblance to her mother.

“Because he’s my friend.”

“He’s my friend too!” She looked at me with her wild blue eyes for some assistance, but I just let out a small laugh as she pouted.

“Robyn, out!” Beatle pointed towards the door and settled a hand on her back, ushering her out. She balled her fists and dragged her feet, trudging out the door.

He shut the door and it made a clicking sound, I supposed he locked it. I leaned back onto his bed, using my elbows to prop myself up as he walked across the room to his closet again. He rummaged through his clothes until finding something suitable and throwing it at me. It was boxers and sweatpants. I would be lying if I said the idea of wearing his clothes didn’t make me slightly excited, and again if I said that not having a shirt didn’t make me very self-conscious.

I began to unbutton my shirt, but it wasn’t working out for me. My fingers were fumbling and I couldn’t seem to get them out of their holes. I bit my lip in concentration as I continued my struggle.

Finally, I looked up to see an amused Beatle and gave him a pleading look.

“Help? If I have another button-less shirt my mom may start to question what I do in my spare time.” He laughed but walked over anyways, taking the first button in his hand. He glided his hands down them, releasing the buttons from their designated holes one by one until he had reached the bottom.

“Need help with those too?” He gestured towards my pants with a playful smirk. I snorted and grabbed the clothes he gave me, heading to the bathroom.

“No.” Or at least I dearly hoped not.

I closed the door behind me and looked into the mirror. My face was flushed like I had just ran a marathon, and you could still see both marks in the skin of my chest. The one from the firework and the one from my adventure with fire Frisbees.

I sighed and gently swept my hand over then, praying they would fade soon. They weren’t attractive in the least, and they looked more painful than they were.

I changed my clothes before heading back into Beatle’s room. I had to fight with the door knob for a moment, but I won and it let me out.

His gaze settled on me, and I looked towards the ceiling. I was attempting to ward off the blush I knew would set in within moments. My eyes met his and I quirked an eyebrow.

“Want to take a picture?” I didn’t know where that came from; I would have never said something like that sober. I didn’t have the confidence or the self-esteem.

“I like the way my clothes look on you.” Beatle chewed on the inside of his lip and then coughed a few times. He almost seemed nervous. Meanwhile, I couldn’t tell if I felt like I was going to throw up because of the way his expression had my stomach flipping or if it was still the alcohol.

I looked down and shrugged, flopping down on the bed next to him in a totally uncoordinated way.

          He was staring at me intently. It made my skin feel warm and suddenly I had a burst of confidence.

“Wanna make out?” He stared at me with a dazed expression for the millisecond before he took my face in his hands and pressed his lips to mine. They were soft and smooth, almost like a ribbon. He took my lower lip between his teeth for a second, tugging on it, which elicited a moan from me. I could feel him smirking, and I suddenly became annoyed with the enjoyment he was getting from hearing me. I pushed him down onto the bed and crawled on top of him, taking control. I could tell by the way he gripped my shoulder that he was definitely not okay with it, but as my tongue explored his mouth his hands were suddenly pulling me closer instead of pushing me away.

I brought my hands down to explore his bare chest, and his shivered at the touch. My fingers were always as cold as ice; I assumed I probably had poor circulation. As a raked my fingers over his pecs he moaned, the hum reverberating into my mouth. I grinned; the sound was amazing, I felt like I could listen to it all day and still not get bored. I could tell he was as hot and flustered as I was, hell, I could feel it.

Suddenly, Beatle let out a frustrated growl and I was no longer in control. I was surprised he even let me be in control in the first place. It was just so out of character.

His hands were settled on either side of my body, and one of his legs was in between mine so he wouldn’t fall on me. My blood felt like it was boiling as it pumped through my veins, and I swore that if I opened my eyes I would see the sparks flying between us. But it still didn’t feel nearly close enough. I pulled on his shoulders roughly, forcing him to fall on top of me. I knew I would probably regret doing this in the morning, but right now I didn’t care. In the morning I would worry about my feelings, and if Beatle really liked me or if he was just using me.

He broke apart the kiss to nip and suck a path from my jaw to my chest. I chewed on the inside of my cheeks to stop from moaning. My hand trailed a path from his shoulder down to his hip, running along the rim of his sweatpants.

He pulled away, sitting down next to me and leaving me completely confused.

“We’re done.” He huffed out; meanwhile I was still trying to catch my breath. Done? What did he mean done?

I thought for a moment, grinding my teeth slightly. “I get it. You’re not ready. The Lennon Durrett is not ready.”

“Stop. Don’t say it like that.” He gave me a stern look like I was a child who had just said a swear I heard in the schoolyard. I smiled to myself, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s true though, isn’t it?”

He avoided my question, instead turning the attention back onto me with a sigh. “You’re only doing this because you’re drunk.”

“What’s your excuse?”

“I don’t need one.”

He leaned over and switched off the bedside lamp, leaving us in total darkness. I puffed out a breath and pulled the covers over myself, biting the nail on my thumb subconsciously.

Without warning I felt Beatle’s arm wrap around my waist, and his chest pressed against my back. We were spooning. I smiled.

“What are you doing?” I was sure that he could hear my smile through the darkness, it didn’t make any sense, but I knew he could.

“I’m a touchy drunk.”

“You’re not drunk.”

“Yeah, but tell anyone else that and I will deny it until the day I die.”

a/n woo hoo! Yay for Chapitre dix! I wanted to give you guys a little bit of Lelliot before I brought more into the plot, because, who doesn't love Lelliot?!

So, ya! Awhile ago someone said they wished that they'd gotten to meet Beatle's parents in an earlier chapter. Well, here they are. Jillian and Christina. Any opinions?

I'm proud of myself for getting this updated tonight! I didn't think I could do it! Well, I hope you enjoyed some Lelliot action, that's basically all that happened in this chapter cx

Till next time! (And in the meantime, don't forget to comment, vote, follow, and inbox me because I love you all!) And really, you all have DaisyBoys to thank for this chapter because there was a point in this week where I actually considered deleting my account o.o Extreme, I know. 

Toodles for now! Love y'all!