Isaac
Isaac woke to the gentle rocking of the ocean beneath him and the worst hangover of his life. His head pounded like someone was taking a jackhammer to his skull, and his mouth tasted like something had crawled into it and died. Even the warm morning sunlight that streamed through the cabin windows made him feel like someone was stabbing his eyeballs repeatedly with a kitchen knife.
He tried to roll over, but something—no, someone—was in his way. Through bleary eyes, he made out Ella’s sleeping form next to him.
Fuck.
Isaac jolted upright despite the sudden nausea that came over him from the movement. Had he—? Did they—?
Looking down, he realized he was still fully clothed, if somewhat disheveled. His shirt was buttoned wrong, and he was missing a shoe, but his pan
