All Chapters of Loving Him For 30 Days: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

“Hold still,” Noah said.“I am holding still.”“Your head keeps moving.”“My head is stationary,” Eli said. “Everything else is moving. The universe is in motion, Noah, I can’t control that.”Noah pulled the wide-tooth comb through a section of Eli’s curls and Eli hissed and Noah said “sorry” without sounding very sorry and kept going.They were on Eli’s bed, Eli sitting cross-legged on the floor between Noah’s knees, the desk lamp pulled close because the overhead light was too harsh for this kind of work and Noah had said so. The detangler spray was on the floor beside them next to a half-eaten bag of crisps and Eli’s phone playing something low that neither of them was really listening to.“You’re growing it out,” Noah said.“I’m considering growing it out.”“You’ve been considering it for two months.”“It’s a significant decision,” Eli said. “You don’t just commit to a hair journey without proper deliberation.”“A hair journey,” Noah said flatly.“That’s what it is.”“You’ve been

Cassian had been in the Lion’s Den common room for forty minutes doing nothing useful.He had his laptop open and a council document he was supposed to be reviewing on the screen.A coffee that had gone cold beside him, and he had read the same paragraph six times and it still meant nothing, because his brain was somewhere else entirely and had been somewhere else entirely for the better part of a week.He closed the laptop.He sat there for a moment, and thought about the phone call with his brother which had lasted two hours and had ended with his brother saying I wondered when you’d call in a tone that wasn’t surprised and wasn’t accusatory, just patient, the tone of someone who had been waiting a long time for a conversation and had decided not to push for it and had been right not to.He thought about what his brother had said toward the end of the call.You don’t have to have it figured out to move toward it, Cass. You just have to stop moving away.He picked up his coffee, reme

The ticket was in Eli’s email at six in the morning on Thursday and he stared at it for a long time before he texted Noah who had been spending a lot of time in Cassian’s dorm. ‘He bought me a first class ticket’ Noah’s reply came in thirty seconds. ‘Obviously he did, It’s a five hour flight Noah’ ‘And?’ ‘Help me, Lord’ Eli looked at the ticket again, the seat number, departure time and the meal options listed at the bottom like a restaurant menu, which was not something he had ever encountered on an airline booking confirmation before. He got on the plane. First class was, as it turned out, a fundamentally different experience from the middle seat in economy that Eli had taken on every flight of his life up to this point. He spent the first twenty minutes of the journey trying not to look like someone experiencing it for the first time and failing completely. The seat reclined into something approaching a bed, there was a small lamp. Someone brought him a warm towel befor

The blue cashmere sweater Lucien had pulled from his wardrobe smelled faintly of cedar.It swallowed Eli completely, the soft hem brushing his mid-thigh and the long sleeves falling well past his knuckles.“You’re swimming in it,” Lucien said, a rare, light chuckle escaping him as he watched Eli roll the cuffs back twice so his hands could actually function.“It’s a design choice,” Eli replied, flashing a grin as he smoothed down the front of the knit. “Besides, it’s warm.”They moved down the long timber hallway together, the silence of the house beginning to change as the morning sun hit the tall glass panels. Lucien didn't put on his usual stiff school wear, he remained in his simple black t-shirt and grey sweatpants, his steps unhurried. They didn’t hold hands as they approached the common areas, but their shoulders brushed with every step.The kitchen was massive, dominated by local stone and a heavy island made of dark oak. It looked like a room that had once been the beating

The Council’s private archive room smelled likeb old floor wax. The room sat at the very top of the Western Wing, far away from the noisy common areas where the rest of the student body lived.Eli stood by the tall, narrow window, his hands tucked deep into the sleeves of Lucien’s blue cashmere sweater he still wore even if they left Wyoming hours ago.The cuffs were still rolled back, but the fabric was warm against his skin, a stark contrast to the draft coming off the stone casing. He turned his head slightly to look at the massive oil painting hanging above the stone fireplace. Five young men from 1898 stood in a rigid row, their wool coats buttoned to their chins, staring down at the room with a cold, absolute certainty.“The Syndicate,” Eli said, his voice flat in the quiet space. “That’s what they called themselves, right?”Lucien didn't look up from the dark oak desk in the corner. He was sitting with his shoulders slightly hunched, his long fingers carefully sorting throug