“I miss you,” she says. “How can I miss you and also not want to be near you. I make no sense.”
“Sleep, Fee.”
When she falls back asleep, I get up to finish her laundry.
I put her sheets in and start the comforter. I grab a recliner from the living room and sleep next to her.
There will be a day where I will sleep in this bed and kiss and cuddle her like she was doing to me, but I would prefer it to be when she is conscious of making that decision.
Hangovers
Damian
I hold her hair as she pukes.
“You’re officially a college student,” I say petting her hair.
“I didn’t ask to be,” she says sobering up.
“Do you remember?” I ask rubbing her back.
“Honestly, it’s kind of hazy,” she says getting up. She wavers, and I pick her up and carry her back to my bed.
“You’re going to have to take it easy, okay?” I say tucking her in. “The internet says that you could have a seizure up to seventy-two hours after overdrinking. You’re staying here with me until then.”
“And the internet never lies or anything,” she says caustically. There she is.
She snuggles into my sheets and I have to stop myself from laughing. She likes things that smell like me.
But, once she realizes her mistake, I watch as she reels it back in. I didn’t always notice before, but now it is so obvious—she is trying so desperately not show any affection towards me.
She looks up at me
“You went home, how are you here?” she asks.
“I got your drunken voicemail,” I say honestly.
“I called you?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say softly. “And Lauren was buying you vodka soda, not club soda.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Kyra and Lauren are friends,” I say grimacing. This is my fault. Kyra is a bitch and I knew that. I should have figured she would get revenge on Fee after I dumped her for her.
“You didn’t want to go to campus police last night, but Fee you could now…” I start. I feel bad. I should have done more. Made her go to the hospital and get checked out.
“No, I don’t want to,” she says shaking her head.
“Can you hand me my phone?” she asks. I grab it and hand it to her. She is trying to avoid this conversation. Maybe she is too hungover for it?
“Nat and Mere,” she says holding the phone.
“I’ve already talked to both of them. Alex too. He was worried as well.”
“Yea, I am still not his biggest fan,” she says half-laughing. As soon as she stops she looks up at me and the air gets thick around us and we are both silent. Uncomfortably silent. I watch as she picks pills off of my blanket.
I look at her, she looks so broken. I’ve done that. I’ve made her feel this bad. But if she would have just talked to me…
“You look so sad,” I say sitting at her feet at the end of the bed.
“Just tired…”
“Fee, you…” I start but she cuts me off. I was going to tell her what she said last night. Tell her that she isn’t the only one who has been struggling not to show their feelings. I’d be lying if I didn’t think of her more than once when I was with someone else.
“Did I say anything stupid, Damian?” she says looking scared. She is afraid that she spoke too much. That she told me the truth. I want to lie to her and say she didn’t, but I think there are enough lies in this room right now.
“I wouldn’t call anything you said stupid,” I say looking at her and she grimaces.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask her, not knowing what we are doing here. Does she want me? Does she not?
“Do we have to decide that all right now?” she says.
“We don’t have to talk about it, Fee. Not right now.”
“Thank you,” she says lightly touching my hand. My heart sinks when she sees what she has done and instantly pulls it away.
I sit with her for a while not knowing where to begin—we were weird before Kyra came into the picture and before I knew she had feelings for me—now we are excruciating. The sexual tension and just the tension from her avoiding me are pulpable. She vomits again and I rub her back wordlessly, grateful for putting the trashcan by my bed.
“I’m sorry for all this,” she whispers, looking up at me.
“Did I give you any indication that I don’t enjoy caring for you?” I say holding her face and smiling as her cheeks heat. That’s something she gets from Mel and Daniel—the need to feel guilty when someone does something for you. I refuse to let her think that she needs to do that with me.
“I don’t want to a burden,” she says softly.
“You aren’t a burden, not to me. Not ever.”
“Yea,” she says with a slight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“I am going to get you some food. What hangover food do you feel like?” I ask her.
“I’ve never been hungover.”
“A sample of all of them. Okay. Got it. I will be right back and if you leave this bed I will kick your ass.”
“I’ve missed you,” she says laying back down.
“So I’ve heard.”
She winces.
“You have?”
“Oh yea,” I say leaning down and kissing the top of her head. She doesn’t know how to react, but the fact that she doesn’t slap me, I take as a good sign.
“Thank you,” she says softly. I don’t know if she is thanking me for the food or the kiss, either one I’ll take.
“Always,” I say looking down at her. She looks at the recliner.
“Dame, did you sleep on the recliner?”
“Yea,” I answer getting my shoes on.
“Why?”
“You were drunk and feeling vulnerable. It was the right place for me,” I say looking at her.
“Be back,” I say leaving. I feed Zeke and take him out and tell him to take care of her while I run to the nearest place possible. I don’t want to leave her very long.
I pick up tacos. That seems to be a hangover favorite.
I go in and hate to wake her, but she should eat.
“Alright, I’ve got tacos”
“That sounds horrible,” she says.
“Trust the master,” I say, and she groans when she eats it.
“See?” I say, laughing.
The air gets tense again.
“Dame, what did I say exactly?” she asks, finally.
“Fee, don’t worry about it. You were drunk.”
“That bad, huh?”
I smile.
“Oh God,” she says covering her face.
“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s me,” I say mocking her.
“We haven’t been us for a little while, Dame,” she says softly.
“Let’s focus on making sure you’re okay.”
“Damian, if I have one, I have one.”
“You should stay here with me.”
“Well I do live here,” she says looking down.
“I meant that we should stay here with me, for break?”
“Okay,” she says eating a bite of her taco and looking down. I need to make her feel better about us. If she isn’t going to let me tell her how I feel, I’ll just show her.
Bending the Rules
Damian
I grab her computer and bring it into my bedroom. I haven’t made her bed yet, even though the sheets and comforter are all clean. I don’t think I will be telling her that they are done any time soon. Maybe if I just act like her boyfriend and show her that I like her, she will feel more comfortable talking about it.
I grab ten or so DVDs from her collection and spread them out.
“What will it be?” I say, and she chooses A League of Their Own.
“A solid choice,” I say, and I put it in. I purposefully use her computer because one, it actually has a DVD drive, and two, because it is slow, and I want this to take a
few minutes. I want time to talk.
“Am I still allowed to sit with you, or would you prefer I sit on the chair?” I ask, hoping like hell she won’t make me behave like a gentleman.
“You don’t want to sit with me?” she asks, hurt in her voice.
“I want to do more than sit with you, but I am asking what you’re comfortable with, Fee,” I say, and I watch her face heat.
“Just sit with me,” she says shakily. This is making her uncomfortable. She has barely looked me in the eye all day. This plan might only make it worse, but I have to try something.
“Sure,” I say as the movie finally loads. I press play.
I have seen A League of Their Own at least two dozen times. In fact, every movie I picked from Felicity’s shelf today—I have seen so many times that I do not care if I watch every minute of it. And I don’t plan to.
Now that I know she has been hiding it as much as I have, I would really like to see how much she has been hiding. Plus, I would really do anything to make her feel better about us.
When the movie starts, I sit closer to her than I normally do, at least starting out. We always tend to nudge closer together while watching Netflix, but I am starting the game where we normally finish it, with my arm and leg slightly touching her.
I watch and she doesn’t react, but she is sitting so rigid on the bed, it can’t be comfortable for her. I purposefully make myself more comfortable, sitting lower on the bed so that my head is right next to her shoulder. I feel her tense up, but she doesn’t say anything. But a few seconds later she does the same thing, sitting lower on the bed and relaxing.
There we go. She is too scared.
I watch the show for a bit, but after a while I notice she is so cold she is shivering. I am sitting on the blanket, so I pause the movie and move.
“What are you doing?”
“Here,” I say picking up my comforter and covering her up. I purposefully graze her shoulder when I let go and I see her face redden. I move the covers, so I don’t annoy her by sitting on them and then I go back to my same spot.
I watch the movie, for a while longer, but I purposefully keep adjusting always brushing up against her when I do. She audibly sighs and I grin.
“Damian,” she says with a nervous laugh.
“Hmm?” I say smiling at her knowingly.
“Stop,” she says.
“Stop what?” I say. It’s a dare. I am daring her to say it. What is she going to say? Stop barely touching her?
But she says stop and I do.
She starts to fade the last twenty minutes and without me prompting anything she starts hugging on to me like she did last night—but in her sleep. I could go for this.
I turn it down and let her sleep.
I mindlessly play with her hair while she takes a nap.
I’m being a freaking creeper.
Reality Hits
It has been a while since I have seen A League of Their Own.
But can I tell you anything about it after viewing most of it today?
Nope.
Why?
Because he was toying with me the entire freaking time. A slight touch here. A light touch there. Here let me tuck you freaking in. I was about to spontaneously combust.
I did my best not to show anything and when I asked him to stop, he did. How much did I tell him last night and why is he all of a sudden all over me?
Because you opened your mouth and now he thinks he has a chance of getting laid, Fee.
I move away during the movie, but where do I wake up? Hugging his chest. I moan, and not in a flattering way, in a what the hell am I doing to myself way.
My hand is on the table. I don’t know if this is his way of showing his and saying he wants more, but I don’t want this to change.
“What was that for?” he says with a laugh.
“You know goddamn well what that was for, Damian,” I say, and he laughs.
I move away from him and head to get something to eat. He let me sleep for a while. The sun is going down.
I grab a bowl and start to get some cereal.
The bowl comes flying out of my hand and crash lands on the kitchen floor. Damian comes running and he looks relieved to find me still standing.
“It’s just a tremor, don’t,” I say, but he just looks at me and helps me clean up the remnants of my bowl.
“Were you getting cereal? I’ve got it,” he says. His tone is weird. Everything about him is weird, right now. There is tension between us, all of a sudden. He’s acting funny, like he doesn’t know what to say to me. He is making this awkward. Between the distance, whatever I said and did last night, and my emotions being out on the table, Damian and I don’t know whether to love, hate, or ignore each other.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask him, almost angrily. I need my caffeine, I have had none.
“Nothing,” he says handing me a bowl of cereal.
“Uh huh,” I say rolling my eyes. He is staring at me. He knows I have feelings and I wish that I could make him forget it.
“I’ve just missed you,” he says smiling and I still don’t buy it, but I really don’t have time for that. Zeke comes running to me, whining and jumping up onto my chest. Shit. I knew that avoiding a seizure after being hungover was a long shot, but I was hoping. I start to get up and head to my bed, but I am cold—too cold. I’m not getting my fifteen minutes. I look at Damian, scared. I always know when it is about to happen, but I hate when it comes before I am mentally prepared. The alcohol messed with my body chemistry—it must have thrown Zeke off.
“Fee…” Damian says, but I am out, the last thing I hear is more glass breaking.
I am crying. Sobbing really. Where am I? My hand is touching hard flooring. Okay. I had a seizure. But where? Am I safe? Was I alone? Where is Zeke? I try opening my eyes and the light is way too bright. My back feels like I am being kicked—I sob some more. My body is burning.
“Fee,” a male voice says. “You’re safe.”
I feel him holding my hand, his thumb rubbing my knuckles gently. I feel him holding me. I am in his lap and I can smell something familiar—Damian.
Damian is here. I feel a huge surge of relief. I am safe. God, he has to be scared. Last time he was so scared. I did it again, I freaked him out. I wait to hear him panic. I wait for him to freak out. Something.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe, Fee,” he says, and his voice is so calm. How is he so calm right now? I just close my eyes and lean into him. He is rubbing my back. Safe.
I wake up and I am still in Damian’s arms, but I am not sure where. I feel myself shaking, I just slowly move to where I can look up at him.
“Hi,” he says, wiping my hair out of my face.
I try to talk, and I can’t. Words won’t form. I stammer.
“Shhh…it’s okay,” he says, hugging me. “Take a few minutes, Fee.”
I breathe and try to take in my surroundings. We are on the kitchen floor. I was trying to get cereal. Okay. I don’t try to move because I know it is going to hurt.
“Your seizure lasted almost three minutes. I thought I was going to have to call someone, but you calmed down,” Damian says. He is still holding my hand, and honestly it feels too comforting to ask him to stop.
“Hi,” I say finally, after trying for a few minutes.
“There you are,” he says smiling. He helps me sit up slowly, putting his hands on my shoulders and keeping me steady. I miss his hand in mine, now my hand feels so—cold.
“Where are you?” he asks me.
“Our apartment,” I say softly.
“What day is it?”
“Saturday night,” I say looking around. I was in and out of it for a while, the sun was still out when I came in here.
“And who am I?” he says with a smirk.
“Shut up, Damian,” I say, it hurts to smile but I do anyway.
“Can you get up?” he asks me, and I nod. He helps me and I waver.
“Nice an
d slow, right to your shower,” he says, and I look down. I lost control of my bladder. In his presence. Again. I try to swallow down the humiliation, but it doesn’t work, I am emotional. So, I tear up.
He gets me to my bathroom. I feel so tired and my head is killing me.
“Hey, hey, what’s that for?” he says seeing my tears as he sits me down on the toilet.
“Just let me be,” I say crying.
“Want me to call Mere or Nat?” he asks looking at me and then looking at the shower. Mere is gone and Natalie has practice.
“Let’s not pretend you haven’t seen me before,” I say looking at him, but we both know this is a little different than taking care of half-dressed, drunk me. We are both stone sober, minus the seizure confusion. I feel that change in the air again. It both intoxicates me and makes me want to run at the same time.
“If you can get me onto the shower chair, I can take it from there,” I say honestly.
He starts the shower and waits for it to warm up with me sitting on the toilet. While we wait he helps me take off my night shirt, then Damian takes off his shirt and his own jeans. I look at him, confused.
“Fee you can barely move, I’m staying. Let’s just get you in the shower to rinse you off. The rest of our clothes will stay on, okay?” he says, and I nod. I am so tired.
He helps me into the shower chair, but I feel gross still wearing my soiled underwear.
“Hand me a towel, please,” I say, and he does. I drape it over me, covering myself, and then I reach down and try to take off my pants. He knows what I am doing and helps me. I swallow down the embarrassment—but it fades into lust when I see the way he is looking at me. We can’t do this. I won’t do this. I close my eyes.
I try to wash myself off, but I am sore, and I groan.
Damian gets in the shower with me and takes the washcloth.
“What are you doing?” I say as he finishes where I left off on my legs.
“Just let me help, Fee,” he says. He even washes my hair, wordlessly, and for once I just let myself enjoy it. I’ll call for a reality check later.
“Thank you,” I say, and he just keeps rinsing. He towel dries my hair and he looks away as I get dressed, holding me steady so I don’t fall. My bed still isn’t made from where he washed everything last night, so he helps me to his room and lays down with me.
Just As Much Page 16