Page 20 of Wrecked
“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping over to him and crouching in front of him, not caring that I'm technically in his bedroom.
His eyes flicker open, staring down at me. “Just feeling a little dizzy.”
“That's because you have a concussion, a gash on your head, bruises on your body, and you just walked up four flights of stairs. Plus, it's after midnight, and you should have been asleep in your hospital bed.”
“Guess I'm a little stubborn,” he says quietly, with a small half-smirk.
I push to my feet with a roll of my eyes, walking back to my purse by the door. “I have some extra strength Tylenol and Ibuprofen on me that I'll give you for tonight. They'll help with the pain and let you be able to sleep.”
After taking the pill bottles out, I walk into his kitchen to get him a glass of water. Empty beer cans litter part of the counter, and other various liquor bottles sit in the corner. I'm guessing he must have had some people over sometime before his accident.
Besides the empty cans, there are some dishes in the sink, a pile of what I assume is clean laundry on one side of the couch, his bed is unmade, and there are a few other random things around, like a cereal box on the coffee table in front of the couch. His place isn't dirty exactly, just messy.
I have this desire to put the cans into the recycling and wash his dishes, but not because I want to clean up for him. I simply like keeping my home clean. I feel it helps with relaxation and feeling good in your own space when there isn't clutter and mess everywhere. As much as I want to, I don't touch anything.
There's one picture on his fridge that catches my attention for a second. I recognize him in the photo, although he does look younger. He's standing with four other guys in various stages of laughter. One of the guys is pretending to punch him. Cute. After opening a few cupboards, I find a glass, fill it with water, and walk back to him.
“Thanks,” he says after I put a couple of pain pills into his hand. “I didn't realize you did house calls as well.”
“Only for the stubborn people who don't listen to medical advice, apparently,” I reply, making that half-smirk reappear. “I'll put a couple of these beside your bed for you to take after four hours if you wake through the night.” He nods and swallows down the pills. “Can I use your bathroom?” I ask.
“Go ahead.” He nods his head toward the door to the side as he yawns.
His bathroom is much like the rest of his apartment; small, with a few items sitting on the counter, including a new toothbrush, a new bottle of shampoo, and a new box of condoms that has my pulse picking up speed. Just imagining him naked and putting one on . . . I shake my head at that thought and finish up. Not exactly an appropriate situation to be thinking about that type of thing.
Stepping out of the bathroom, I stop short when I see that Campbell is now lying back on his bed with his eyes closed. His legs are still hanging over the edge like he's half sitting, but it's obvious that he's asleep. That isn't going to be very comfortable, especially since he's already bruised and stiff.
Chewing on my bottom lip, I walk to the side of his bed, looking him over and considering my options. He's too big for me to move on my own, but maybe if I stir him awake, he'll move up by himself. I sit down beside him to gently wake him.
“Campbell,” I say softly, with a hand on his shoulder. There's not a single movement from him. “Campbell,” I try again a little louder, adding a nudge to his shoulder. He stirs a little but doesn't wake. “Campbell.” This time I say it much louder and shake him as well. Bleary-eyed, he half sits up before groaning with discomfort. “Move up on your bed,” I tell him, and thankfully he does it, even with his eyes half closed.
Once he's moved up and his head is on a couple of pillows, already sleeping again, I pull off his shoes and then crawl onto the mattress to reach over him and pull his blanket on. But just as I do that, his arm slides around my waist, and I'm pulled down to lie next to him. Then he snuggles in close so that I'm pressed against his body, and buries his face in my hair. I freeze at first, surprised and not sure what to do.
But as the seconds tick by, the warmth of his body encloses around me, making me relax. On the one hand, it feels nice to be cuddled by a man, to be cocooned by his body and held close by his muscular arms. His chest's steady, deep movements against my back have my own breaths almost matching his. My eyes start to drift close as the effects of a long shiftandthe fact that it's after one a.m starts to hit me.
But then just as I feel myself starting to doze, I think about him virtually being a stranger. I know that he's not aware that he's doing this and it would be weird to wake up with me in his bed. My eyes pop open again, and I carefully lift his arm off me to slide out before lowering it again.
He mumbles something to me as I fix the blanket on him, but I don't catch what it is. “What did you say?” I whisper.
He mumbles again but must realize that I wouldn't be able to understand it, so he repeats it more clearly. “Stay for a bit?”
I watch him for a moment. It looks as if he's still fast asleep. If I left now, he wouldn't even know it. But what if I go and then something happens? What if I leave and he wakes with a fever or something?
After some deliberating,I finally whisper, “Okay.” ThenI go and take a seat on the side of his couch that doesn't have clothes on it and make myself comfortable. I'll just stay for a little bit longer.
CHAPTER 10
CAMPBELL
Light filters into my consciousness as I open my eyes and stare up at the ceiling. There's a fuzziness to my brain that slowly begins to dissipate. Even so, it takes me a good thirty seconds to realize that I am, in fact, in my own bed. My head is hurting but not as bad as it did yesterday.
I push myself into a sitting position and take stock of myself. There's a bandage on my head. My body is still achy. My neck is stiff, and my ear is ringing. All of that is normal, according to the doctor, so I guess I'm okay. I do a few test stretches with my arms, and then I turn my back slightly to try and stretch that out as well. And that's when I see her curled up on the couch, hugging the pile of clean clothes that's been sitting there for a week.
I'm kind of surprised she actually stayed the night. I expected her to take off right after bringing me up here. But as my foggy brain recollects the night before, I realize I passed out while she was still in my bathroom. Turning away from her, I spot the pain pills she left beside my bed and reach over to grab them, swallowing them down with the water she also left for me. Appreciation for her thoughtfulness fills me, along with the cool liquid.
I take one last look at her and then slowly drop my legs over the side of my bed. I need to piss badly, and I'm thinking I probably smell like ass by now, so I want to shower as well.
I don't think she's likely to take off on me if she wakes up while I'm still showering, so I get up and make my way into the bathroom.
