"Sorry, but I think you need medical attention."
"Not from you I don't, so just go and leave me here. I'll be okay in a few minutes."
"Scoot over," I say as I bump her over so I can sit next to her. I'm trying to not laugh at the way her face is swollen, red, and blotchy, but it's hard. "What happened? You look like you ate seafood and had a reaction?"
"Not allergic to seafood, thanks for the concern. Why are you sitting here?"
"In case you stop breathing, I can administer mouth to mouth," I respond with a shrug like why wouldn't I be here when you look like you are about to die on me. That's what I really want to say, but I refrain.
"I don't need mouth to mouth, this is nothing new. I swear you can leave me here and you won't find me still here tomorrow when you leave."
"That's good to know, want me to help you get up to your apartment?"
"No, I don't need your help," Sherry says, but her voice is deeper and shorter toned than before. I take a chance to look at her again. Her lips are the size of a mountain. Her eyes are so swollen I'm not even sure if she can see straight.
"Come on, give me your hand and let's get you upstairs before you scare any kids."
"I don't look that bad," she whines, causing my heart to break for her.
"Okay, sweetheart, you keep telling yourself that one," I say, taking her hand to lift her up from the bench. I place my hand on the small of her back, leading her over toward the elevator banks. I'm probably going to hell because all I can think about is kissing those swollen lips of hers, instead of them going down; they'd swell more with the nip of my teeth against her skin. After I situate her against the wall, I ask. "What floor, babe?"
"Eight."
The amber light glows from the silver panel as I try to not turn around. It's not that she scares me. No, I want to wrap her in my arms and figure out why she looks this way. All medical training within me says she's having an allergic reaction to something. But then a side of me wants to make sure someone didn't do this to her. I've already looked her over for blood and bruising, and nothing is visible.
"Oh my God… My Face… Oh No," her voice echoes in the small space, and when I turn around, she's staring at her reflection from the metal.
"It's no big deal. Come on, let's get you inside."
"Not that bad? This is the worst ever. Stop looking at me," she says, covering up her face with her hands. "This is so embarrassing, please just go."
"Babe, this isn't scary—I promise. Maybe a little disturbing as to how this might have happened and why, but not scary."
"It's a very long story. Lord, Ava is going to kill me and say no now for sure," she says, and I'm not even sure if she's talking to me or just out loud in general. Standing behind her, I watch as she fumbles with the lock, finally getting the key in and the door opened. I don't slow my stride as I'm fast on her heels before she can slam the door in my face.
"Where's your roommate?"
"Out, and why are you still here? For the love of God, leave."
"Not happening, you need someone with you; it gets worse. Do you have an Epi-pen or something? Has this ever happened to you before?"
"Yes and yes… Now leave, I can do this myself."
"Has anyone ever told you that you are infuriating?"
"A few times, yes."
"Good, glad that's settled. Where do you keep it?"
"Bathroom cabinet to the right side when you open it," she says, and I stand in the middle of the living room wondering which way I go. Her condo is a split level, and I can see two different hallways—one straight ahead, and one to the right of me. Sherry must sense my dilemma because now she instructs me, "To the right, the bathroom is on the right."
"Thanks. Here, sit down, and I'll be right back," I say as I dash down the hallway. My mind races to what could've happened if I didn't see her. Would she just have sat there until someone else came to her rescue? What if she stopped breathing? All this races through my head as I fumble around her medicine cabinet, knocking things over in a massive hurry. I can't help but stifle a laugh when I notice the condoms sitting next to the pen. At least I know she practices safe sex.
Pen in hand, I run back out to where she's sitting on the sofa. I notice that her head is leaned back, and she seems to be focusing on her breathing or the ceiling—not sure which one. Just as I kneel, I notice she has jeans on. "Um, can you stand and drop the pants?"
"No, you are not seeing me naked; just leave, and I’ll jab my leg."
"Look, it's not like I haven't seen people naked, and you'll have panties on. I promise to not look, now drop the pants."
"This is so embarrassing, and I can't see you, but if you look I'll still know," she says as she stands and pushes her jeans down past her knees. Taking a seat, she brings down her shirt a little before grabbing the throw pillow next to her and placing it on her lap. I can't help but chuckle at how modest she's being. It makes me question if those were her condoms or Ava's. I bet she's a sex in the dark with almost all her clothes on type of girl.
"Alright, ready?"
"No, but go ahead. Just jab it in quickly and get this over with," Sherry says, releasing a lungful of air.
"What the hell is going on in here," the voice says, coming at me, and I take in how this looks. Me kneeling on the floor with a half-naked lady telling me to just jab it in.
"Nothing, Ava, he's helping me with my Epi-pen."
I watch as she comes around and stands next to me; her eyes are full, and she's so stunned that Ava's rendered speechless.
"Ladies, I need to get this stick in now, do you mind?"
Ava pipes up, "By all means, get that stick in…" before she doubles over in laughter causing Sherry to cover her face.
I can't win for losing with this situation. I just count softly, and on three I stab Sherry in the upper thigh.
"Ouch, did you have to be so rough?"
"Can we all stop with the sexual language, ladies?"
"Speak for yourself, I think this is the most action I've seen her get recently."
"AVA, are you kidding me? What are you doing here?"
"Forgot my overnight bag, so I had to come back. You going to be okay?"
"Yes, now both of you just leave me alone. I'll be fine as soon I snuggle up in bed with Mr. Tinkerbell?"
"Mr. Tinkerbell? Is that code for something," I ask as I scrunch up my face.
"No, that's her cat that we thought was a female, but it's a male and she's allergic to it. A prime example of her face."
"How did this happen if you were just getting home? I'm so confused."
"Long story. Look, are you going to be okay? I can cancel my plans and stay with you," Ava asks Sherry.
"I'll be alright, go."
"I'll stay with her, do what you have to do."
"Oh no, you won't… You leave, and I'll call you tomorrow," she says to Ava before turning to me. "You go to your floor."
"I’ll go get a change of clothes and be back down soon. No arguing with the doctor," I say before she has a chance to respond. I stop at the door, turning back toward her. "Oh, by the way, nice pink lace panties." And with that, I jump out into the hallway and close the door behind me. I can hear her saying something, but can't make the words out. I have no idea why I volunteered to stay and watch her; maybe things will settle down soon, and I'll be able to return back to my place for the night. The more I get to know her, the stranger she gets. For the life of me, I can't get past the whole Mr. Tinkerbell thing and how she allows her body to do this when it's a simple fix. I'll table this for now, but the doctor in me feels a lecture coming, and by coming, I mean soon.
Sherry
For the life of me, I don’t understand why this stuff always happens to me. I’m being honest when I say this. Not one of my friends has my kind of issues. They don’t fall asleep in weird places. They don’t break out from just the scent of a cat. They don’t embarrass themselves in front of hot doctors that they can’t stop thinking about. Th
e later part is a whole different situation. One that I need to deal with and fast. In the past, I’ve had a few boyfriends here and there, but not one of them has ever made my heart flutter so fast that at any moment it’s going to hop out of my chest and into Greyson’s. Not only does that happen, but every time he touches me my tunnel of love contracts. It’s like it’s speaking some foreign language to his penis. Maybe it is… Who knows, and trust me I’ve tried to get it to stop. Stupid tunnel has a mind of its own… Dang traitor.
Time stands still as I sit here and wait for Greyson to return. I’m praying he’s changed his mind when I decide to get up and head to the kitchen. It’s way past dinner time, and the grumbles of my stomach could possibly be heard in the next zip code. Fumbling through the refrigerator, I balance on one leg while searching for something satisfying. I’m trying to remember the last time Ava, and I went grocery shopping and keep coming up empty—just like the fridge. Just as I go to slam the door Greyson’s voice echoes through the place, sending me sideways and down to the floor.
“Sherry, are you okay,” he says hovering over me and staring with those come fuck me eyes he has.
“No, my ankle hurts and my elbow,” I whine in response as I sit up. Before I can protest it, he’s sliding off my sock to examine the damage.
“Can you move it?”
“Yes, it’s just a sprain to go along with my otherwise shitty day.”
“Come on, let’s get you back to safety—and by that, I mean the couch. Babe, you’re a walking disaster. How have you made it this long without serious injury?”
“Don’t know, I ask myself this, every day.”
Greyson helps me hobble over to the sofa. When I lean back and look at him, I notice that he’s freshly showered and sporting a pair of basketball shorts and white crew neck t-shirt. Simple and comfortable, which is what I want to be right now.
“I need to go to my room. I’ll be right back?”
“How ya going to get there, crawl?”
“No, smartass, I’ll walk-obble…” I say, looking at him like he’s grown two heads.
“What the hell is walk-obble?”
“Walking and hobbling. Trust me, I’m a pro at this,” I say and stand. When I reach a new oxygen level, I wobble just a little from not only standing too fast but from everything that’s happened this evening. If I was left in my own misery, I’m pretty sure I’d have a pizza on the way. While I waited, I’d curl up and watch TV and cry for a good few minutes. This day might be going in my history book of crappy days. My hand braces me against the hallway as I shuffle down toward my bedroom. Right when I open the door all my cats dash out, leaving a trail of fur behind them. Insert the fit of sneezing that continues until I just give up and plop down on my bed.
I’m tired…
So tired…
Oh, and hungry…
I don’t have the energy to scoot toward the headboard, nor stand back up to get my pajamas. I know in a few minutes I’m going to pass out and it’s the end of everything that I knew it to be today. At this point, I have one of two choices. One, I can stand on my own and try to make it over to my dresser and pray I don’t fall face first to the floor. Two, I can call Greyson in to help and then kick him out so I can change in privacy. The longer I sit here neither will get done. I push myself up from the bed and wait a few minutes before moving. My head spins, and all I can think about is food and sleep—not in any order either. I could sleep then eat. The other thing that’s spinning around in my head is what am I to do with Greyson. Standing, I decide that it’s better to just face defeat. “Greyson,” I yell and plop back down on my bed in defeat.
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have screamed his name because from the looks of his face right now standing in my doorway, he might’ve had a heart attack. Great… I’m going to kill the handsome doctor before I can even figure him out. No… No… No… Sherry, there is nothing here to figure out. Stop that horny, tired, and hungry mind of your right now.
“What? Are you okay? What’s wrong. Need me to take you to the ER?”
“Oh my God, for a doctor you are very dramatic, has anyone ever told you that?”
“No, they haven’t, but you make me that way.”
“Sorry, I just need help getting my clothes from the top drawer of my dresser. I went to stand and got dizzy. Plus, I’m tired and hungry,” I say with more of a whiny voice than I anticipated.
“I can handle all of those except for the sleepy part. I’m pretty sure your medicine and the Epi-pen have kicked in. Your face looks better,” he states, walking past me which causes me to cut my eyes in his direction. Who says something like that to a person in my predicament. Shaking my head, I watch as he pulls out the top set of pajamas and hands them to me. Greyson stands before me like he’s waiting for me to either ask for help dressing or to excuse him. In a roll my eyes kind of way, I say, “You can leave now and go back upstairs.”
“I’ll let you dress, and go order some pizza. What do you like on yours?” I can’t even respond to him at this moment; it’s like this bad dream that won’t stop. Instead, I plop backward against my bed and cover my face.
Greyson’s hand touches my leg, causing me to jump from the mere act of affection. Letting out a sigh, I peek through my fingers at him. He’s straddling the corner of my bed, leaning down as if he’s waiting for me come out of hiding.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Why are you here? Don’t you have anything better to do than to hang out here and babysit me? Honestly, I’m fine and will just eat and go to sleep until my alarm wakes me in the morning.” My voice is muffled from my hands, and I’m not sure if he understood me or if I sounded like a cartoon character.
“Maybe I want to get to know you better, and I’m using this as an excuse.”
“This won’t work.”
“Never know unless we give it a go. I don’t know what it is about you, Sherry, but you make me want to break all the rules of ethics and morals.”
“I’m going on the record now that I’m a hot mess and this is going to end badly… Just so you understand. Not to mention, I’m royally screwed if we continue to get to know each other. I can’t find a new doctor,” I say as if I’m pleading for him to leave. No, I take that back, I’m mentally willing him to go. I don’t think at this moment I have it in me to say no to him. Not to mention, if his hand moves any further up my leg, I might just hop up and drag him down on top of me. That’ll be something else. I can see it ending a different way than it should. I’d end up head butting him and knocking us both out.
“So what do you like on your pizza?”
“Meat lovers, extra cheese and… Yep, that’s all.”
“What’s the and?”
“I like pineapple, but Ava hates it; well, most people do. Just get meat lovers, and I’ll be happy.”
“You’re in luck, I love pineapple on my pizza. Now, change and I’ll be back in a few,” he says, removing his hand from my leg. This simple act leaves me feeling empty. Like he was transferring positive energy into my soul. Pushing up on my elbows, I watch him exit my room— taking my breath with him. For the life of me, I can’t figure out what his end game is—or for that matter—what mine is. It’s like I need to tattoo my rules on the palm of my hand so I can remember that Greyson Davis is not the one for me. No matter how much my tunnel protests against it, I can’t give into this. I have this mental image of being at his parents’ house, enjoying dinner while the whole time I’m wondering what his dad is thinking. Would he tell his son about my exams? How deep my tunnel is? No, that would be wrong and violate ethics. Still, I need to find a way around this.
Sliding my shirt off, I toss it over toward the hamper before I dress in my pajama top. Before I stand, I take a moment to gather myself and begin to shimmy out of my pants. Satisfied that I’m covered and not in the least bit attractive in my Smurf-covered body. Yes, the top set was a royal blue baby doll top and Capri pants that match but are white and have Smurfs all over th
e material. With my fuzzy socks in hand, I venture back out to where Greyson is sitting on the sofa, thumbing through his phone. I stand at the armrest opposite of him, taking in his lean, fit body. For just a moment, I allow my mind to wonder what it would be like to rub my fingers against his bare skin.
Greyson
Stifling the laughter that’s trying to escape me as I look up at Sherry in her Smurf outfit, I pat the cushion next to me, inviting her to join me. Her eyes are still pink and puffy, almost as if she’s been crying for days. I know this isn’t the case, but if someone were to walk in here right now, they’d think otherwise. Her swollen lips are plump and call for me to grab her by the back of the neck to pull her closer to taste them. I push that thought away, and instead of acting on impulse, I say the only thing I can think of at the moment. “Pizza will be here in about thirty or so minutes. Can I get you some water? I don’t know what you have or like?”
“Thanks, and I’m okay,” she says in a lower voice than I’ve heard before. When I take a chance to glance over in her direction, I notice that she’s playing with a loose thread on the bottom of her shirt. This simple act mesmerizes me into watching. She wraps the thread around her pinky until it no longer flips around the skin. Just as fast as she does that, she unravels it only to repeat the same process. I cock my head up to take in her facial features. I have to wonder if she mentally knows what she’s doing as she sits in a trance. The air around us has shifted into that awkward silence. Not even voices from the TV play through the space. As much as I want to get to know her, I’m also fine just sitting here taking her in. The way her platinum hair rests upon her shoulders, her once before porcelain skin blotchy from the reaction she had, and not to mention the way her crystal eyes roam my body when she acts like she’s not looking at me.
“Want to watch TV?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Oh, yeah … Okay,” her voice is weak and unsure if she answered appropriately. I watch as she leans forward, the material of her pants tightening against her rear and giving me the perfect view of the ass that I want to squeeze.
Sack Time Page 4