[ - ]
Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story Microsoft Word Chapter or Story
- Text Size +
Chapter Fourteen


I woke up the next morning curled up in the chair in my living room. Nick was spawled across the couch, the thawed broccoli still balanced on his forehead. I had a terrible crick in my neck and I winced as I fought to stand upright. As I walked by, I grabbed the bag of broccoli off Nick's face and had to refrain from gasping at the sight of the swollen black eye that marred his otherwise peaceful face. He barely moved when I took the broccoli away.

In the kitchen, I tossed the ruined vegetables into the garbage and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Checking in on Nick one last time, I went into the bathroom and started a shower.

I closed my eyes as the hot water washed over me, taking with it the residue from the day before and the soap that I was lathering up with. I used my scrubby brush to get my back. Once I'd washed up, I leaned against the wall and turned the heat up as high as I could stand and just let the hot water wash over my back, soothing the ache in my neck and spine from having slept in the stupid chair all night. I closed my eyes and moaned appreciation for the hot water.

That's when the door to the bathroom opened and Nick walked in.

I quickly covered my breasts with my arms and crossed my legs. I poked my head out around the shower curtain, "Do you mind?" I started to ask, but I couldn't finish the sentence because before I could, Nick had pushed the lid up on the toilet and reached for his fly. "OH God!" I yelped and I jumped backwards, slipped in the tub, and fell to the floor, scraping my back on the faucet as I went down.

"Shit, are you okay?" Nick asked. His voice sounded panicked. He reached for the shower curtain.

"DON'T open that!" I yelled.

"But you fell down --"

"I'M NAKED!" I shouted, "Don't open that. Give me a towel."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Give me a towel."

There was a pause and a moment later one of the blue towels that hung on the hook by the door was passed around he curtain. I stretched to reach for it and a pain shot up my back. "Ow," I groaned. I grabbed the towel and wrapped it as best I could over myself. "Okay."

"Okay? I can open the curtain now?"

"Yeah."

Nick opened it and he stared down at me. "I'm sorry," he said. He offered out his hand. I took it, and he carefully pulled me to my feet. Pain shot through my back and I winced even harder. "Are you bleeding?" Nick pointed at the bottom of the tub, where a small pool of blood had formed.

"Apparently," I muttered.

Nick frowned. "Do you have a first aid kit?"

"Under the sink."

He turned and rooted around under there while I gingerly stepped out of the tub, clinging to the handle in the wall. He opened the kit and dug out Neosporin and a bandage. "Turn around," he said gently.

"The towel doesn't cover the back," I argued.

"It's okay, I won't look."

I knew I shouldn't trust him not to look, but I turned around anyway because it hurt and I really wanted the Neosporin. I felt his fingers working on my back as he put the cool cream on and dobbed it around with his fingertip. Then he ripped open the bandage and pressed it over the wound carefully. "There..." he said. "There ya go, you're good."

I turned forward again. "Thanks," I said.

"I owed ya one after you came for me last night. And for the broccoli," he added.

"I guess we're even then," I said.

"It appears that way," he replied.

"You have a nice ass," he commented.

"I said not to look!" I cried.

Nick shrugged.

"Ugh."

"At least I said it was nice," he pointed out.

I didn't answer. I could feel the flush rising up my chest and neck into my face and the grin in his eyes only brightened as I turned redder. I pushed out of the bathroom, doing my best to keep everything covered. I hurried up the stairs to the bedroom and quickly changed clothes. I put on a pair of sweatpants because my jeans were too tight across my new fleshwound. But a quick look in the mirror showed Nick had dressed it quite well.

When I came back downstairs a few minutes later, slowly because my back was now hurting, Nick was standing in the living room looking at the photographs on the mantle again. I hovered in the door for a moment before he realized I was there. "Were you close to your mom?" he asked.

"Not particularly," I answered. "They always liked Jake more. Which I guess is why it's so weird that I'm the one that cares about the house enough to be so desperate to keep it that I'll accept crazy job offers from perfect strangers..." I raised an eyebrow.

Nick's mouth curled into a smirk.

"Are you hungry? I just bought stuff to make omlets..."

"I'm always hungry, you'll learn that about me," he said. He followed me into the kitchen, watching as I moved stiffly, trying not to disturb the gash on my back. "You sure you're okay?" he asked, his voice was concerned.

"Yeah," I replied. I reached for a lower cupboard and found that it hurt to bend down to get a pan. Nick rushed over and cut in front of me, grabbed the pan and put it on the stove.

"Sit," he said, waving at the bar stools by the breakfast nook counter.

"But what about breakfast?" I asked, "You said you were hungry."

"Allow me, mon cherie," he replied, and he looked around, "Where's your utensils drawer?" I pointed. He pulled open the drawer as I wriggled onto the bar stool. Holstering a spatula in his belt loop, he also grabbed a wooden spoon, a knife, and a whisk, then opened my fridge and pulled out the stuff for omlets. He grinned, "You're lucky... Eggs are one of the few things I can cook."

And he set to work.