Page 47 of The Downside of Love
“You’re good.” I hold up the water and try to open it but the cap slips through my weak grasp.
“Here.” He takes the bottle from me, his fingers grazing mine, his eyes lingering as he twists the cap off. “Want a cup?”
“This is great . . . thank you, Stryder.”
“Not a problem.”
Leaning forward, I take his hand in mine. His eyes roam over the connection briefly before looking up to mine. “Not just for the water, but for taking care of me.”
“Of course.” He looks down. “I would do anything for you, but please, just don’t scare me like that again.”
“I’ll try not to.” Squeezing his hand, I let the serious mood fade, because I can tell how uncomfortable it’s making Stryder. He might care, and he might have no problem making sure I’m comfortable, but talking about it, yeah, that’s not what he likes to do.
It’s actually kind of cute how shy he gets, how quickly he wants to move on from the conversation when it involves praising him. Cute and also . . . sad. I wonder how many times he’s been praised rather than reprimanded. How many times he’s been appreciated for the wonderful man he is, rather than brought down and dragged through the mud for something he didn’t achieve.What sort of parents can berate such a decent man?
Clearing my throat, I nod at the bag at his feet and ask, “What’s in the bag?”
He glances at it, and releases my hand, picking it up with a shy smile. “Since you weren’t expecting to be in here, I thought maybe you’d want something to do and might need a charger for your phone.” Reaching into the bag, he pulls out a red charger and hands it to me. “Wasn’t sure on the color, but I thought red suited you.” Why do I feel like he knows something about me I never told him? “I also got some cards, word search, and crossword puzzles.” Leaning forward some more, he says, “And some Combos because I’m fucking starving.”
I chuckle and say, “Well, open them up. What flavor did you get?”
“Cheese pretzel.”
“Care to share?”
Smiling, he holds up the word search book and says, “Only if you help me.”
“I think that’s an even trade.” Without thinking, acting on pure instincts, I scoot over in my hospital bed and pat the empty side. “Sit.”
Looking a little shocked, he eyes the spot, his large frame questionable for the amount of space I gave him. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Don’t be shy. Slide on over, it will be easier to find the words that way.”
Still a little hesitant, he stands, kicks off his shoes and then slides in next to me, draping his arm behind me. I snuggle into his side and hold open the word search for both of us to see, the pen he gave me in hand, while he sets the Combos on his lap to snack on. It’s only been a few months since Colby and I stopped dating, so it should actually feel awkward snuggling close to a man who’s not my boyfriend. Yet . . . it doesn’t. It actually feels incredibly normal, as if Stryder and I have had months of one-on-one friendship rather than just a few weeks.But what about Stryder? Is he coping with this?
I look up at him. “Are you comfortable?” And what’s weirder? I really want him to say yes. I don’t want him to pull away from me, not here. Not now. The smile on his face is contagious, the cologne he’s wearing addictive, and the warmth of his well-defined body next to mine gives me strength.
“Yeah, you?”
I nod. “Very. Pop one of those Combos in my mouth.”
“Are you allowed to eat?”
I shrug my shoulders. “Who knows? Just give me one.”
Hesitant, he gives in and puts one of the Combos in my mouth, followed by one in his mouth. “These are so good; you better save some for me for later.”
He pops two more pieces in his mouth and says, “Nah, just gives me a reason to buy more tonight.” He winks and pops another in his mouth, giving my stomach a little unexpected somersault.
Feeling my face heat up from his wink, I turn to the word search and hold it up so we both can see it. “Uh, should we start at the first one, or flip to a random page?”
“First one, who flips to a random one?”
“It’s more fun that way, going out of order.”
He ponders that for a second. I can see it in the poised way he carries himself, just like Colby, he probably does everything in order. It’s the way he was raised.
And when I’m about to start on the first page, knowing that’s how his brain operates, he stops me and says, “Let’s flip to a random page.”
