Chapter 64 Aslan
Aslan
I woke up confused and with a headache.
The kind that felt like someone had stuffed cotton in my skull and then hit it repeatedly with a tiny hammer.
My first realization was that I wasn’t in my dorm.
My second was that I was mostly naked.
My third was that I was warm… because I was currently in someone’s bed, wrapped in someone’s arms.
I nearly shot upright.
The movement stopped halfway when the first memory slammed into my brain.
The party.
Joe’s family celebration. The lights. The wine. The mushroom.
No way…
The mushroom.
Then everything else came rushing back like a train with no brakes.
The phone call.
Garrett—his voice. His honesty. His rejection.
My chest tightened just remembering it.
And then—
Oh, my God.
Aitor.
We kissed. We kissed a lot. And then he brought me here.
My brain froze for a second.
Jesus.
Did we…?
For a split second, panic flashed through me, hot and sharp. But then another memory surfaced.
I was the one who tried. And it hadn’t happened.
For one very brief moment, I almost felt relief. Then the next realization arrived.
He’d said no.
Holy shit.
He rejected me too. Two rejections in one night.
That had to be some kind of record.
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Probably both.
I shifted slightly under the blankets, and the arm around my waist tightened.
Before I could fully process what was happening, warm lips brushed my shoulder. Then my neck.
Aitor pulled me closer, half asleep, and kissed me gently.
“Morning,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.
Okay.
Maybe I wasn’t remembering the entire story.
My brain slowly rebooted while I stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Aitor had brought me to a hotel. A very nice hotel, apparently.
Safe. Quiet. Far away from the party… Exactly as I had asked.
I remembered stumbling into the room. Remembered him helping me sit on the bed while I tried to convince the floor to stop moving.
And then the kissing.
God.
We had really kissed for a long time. Slow at first. Then, not so slow.
My stomach flipped at the memory.
I had been the one who pushed things further.
Hands everywhere. Trying to pull his shirt off. Trying to pull my own off.
I had been halfway through unbuttoning his jeans when he grabbed my wrists.
“Not tonight.” His voice had been soft, but firm.
I remembered blinking up at him, confused.
“Why not?” I had asked.
And yeah, I might have sounded a little pathetic.
“I need you,” I’d added, because apparently my dignity had taken the night off.
Aitor had looked at me like I was something fragile.
Not fragile in a weak way. Fragile, like something important.
“You’re hurting tonight,” he had said quietly. “We both are.”
I had shaken my head immediately.
“I’m fine.”
Which was obviously a lie.
He’d brushed my hair away from my face, his thumb lingering against my cheek.
“You’re high, emotional, and confused,” he said gently. “And I care about you too much to take advantage of that.”
That word had made something twist painfully in my chest.
“Please don’t reject me too,” I’d whispered before I could stop myself.
God.
Even remembering that made my face burn.
Aitor had looked genuinely shocked.
“Reject you?”
He cupped my face with both hands then, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Aslan, I would never reject you.”
His voice had been firm in a way that left no room for doubt.
“I would never hurt you.”
I remembered staring at him, trying to decide if I believed that.
“And this?” I’d asked weakly, gesturing vaguely between us.
He had smiled then. Soft. A little sad. “I’m protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From waking up tomorrow and thinking I took advantage of the worst night of your life.”
My throat had tightened at that.
“But I want you,” I’d insisted.
“I know,” he said.
His thumb had brushed under my eye, wiping away a tear I hadn’t realized was there.
“And I want you too.”
That part had made my heart skip.
“But if we’re going to do this,” he continued quietly, “I want it to be real. I want us to work.”
I remembered staring at him for a long moment.
Trying to process the fact that someone was actually choosing patience over opportunity.
Which was… new.
Then he’d pulled the blankets over us, wrapped his arms around me, and kissed my forehead.
“Sleep,” he had murmured.
Apparently I had.
Because now I was lying in his arms in a luxury hotel bed, with a headache, a confused heart, and absolutely no idea what the hell my life was doing anymore.
And somehow… For the first time since that call with Garrett, I didn’t feel completely broken.
“Good morning.” I kissed him back.
He smiled, brushing his fingers along my jaw in that gentle way of his. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“My head’s a bit fuzzy,” I admitted. “But I feel great.”
My definition of great might’ve been a little rough around the edges considering the ache in my chest I couldn’t quite shake. And I knew that had nothing to do with my heart condition and everything to do with missing Garrett.
Which was ridiculous when you thought about it.
How could you miss someone you’d never really had?
What I probably missed wasn’t Garrett himself, but the idea of him. The version of us I’d imagined. The one where things weren’t complicated and impossible and doomed from the start.
For all I knew, that version was completely wrong.
So far, apart from a couple of intense and confusing sexual encounters, I’d gotten nothing from him but heartache.
And technically speaking, good sex wasn’t that rare.
I could probably have someone kinder, nicer, and far more emotionally stable to hook up with for a fraction of the heartbreak.
And by someone, I was obviously meaning, the beautiful guy next to me.
So yes.
I was great.
“You?” I asked.
I suddenly remembered his conversation with Linnea the night before and, judging by the fact that we were currently sharing a hotel room, I doubted that had gone particularly well.
Aitor pulled me a little closer, his arm tightening comfortably around my waist.
“I’m happy you’re here, Aslan.”
That simple sentence did something warm and dangerous to my chest.
“We have all Sunday to ourselves,” he continued. “What would you like to do?”
Considering we were half naked, tangled together in bed, my brain briefly wondered if that was a tricky question.
“I was thinking we could get breakfast,” he added with an easy smile, clearly reading something on my face. “Maybe relax, watch some movies. There’s a jacuzzi in the room too if you want to try it later.”
He kissed me again, quick and warm.
Nope. Definitely not flirting. Just genuinely asking.
Oddly enough, that made me relax more than anything else. My cock might’ve been reacting to the proximity, but his calmness made everything feel… safe.
“Breakfast,” I said immediately, suddenly starving.
He laughed softly. “Good choice.”
The rest of the morning passed in a surprisingly easy blur.
Room service arrived with enough food to feed a small army. Pancakes, eggs, fresh fruit, coffee, pastries—Aitor apparently believed in committing fully to the hotel experience.
We stayed in bed half the time, talking about nothing important, arguing about which movie to watch, and occasionally stealing food off each other’s plates.
At some point, I realized I was laughing. Actually laughing. Which felt strange after the emotional chaos of the night before.
The afternoon slipped by with movies playing in the background while we stretched out on the bed, sometimes talking, sometimes quiet, sometimes leaning against each other without really thinking about it.
It was… peaceful.
Until the first message arrived.