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“I like your lap,” she breathed, eyes closed. “It’s like a pillow.”
“Yeah, uh, well, that’s nice and all—” I paused to still her face with my hands once more. “But I’m sore, so I need you to not do that.”
“Do what?”
“Rub me,” I croaked out. “There.”
“Why are you sore?” She sighed heavily and asked, “Are you broken, too?”
“Probably,” I admitted, shifting her face onto my good thigh—well, good being the one that hurt less. “Stay there, okay?” It was more of a plea than an order. “Don’t move.”
Complying, she didn’t move her head again.
Using my free hand to press against the tension forming at my temple, I thought about how much shite I was going to be in.
I was missing class.
I was hungry.
I had club training tonight.
I had a gym session arranged straight after school with Gibsie.
Physiotherapy with Janice after school tomorrow.
I had a school match on Friday.
I had another training session with the youths at the weekend.
I had a busy fucking schedule and I didn’t need this drama.
Several minutes passed in pained silence before she moved again, and in that time, I debated all the ways Mr. Twomey was an incompetent principal.
I had a list as long as my arm when she tried to sit up again.
“Be careful,” I warned, hovering over her like a mother hen.
I helped her into an upright position and managed to slide off the bench in the process.
Every muscle south of my navel screamed out in protest, but I didn’t move away.
Instead I continued to crouch in front of her, keeping my hands on either side of her waist, waiting to catch her. “Are you okay, Shannon?”
Her long brown hair fell forward, cloaking her face like a blanket.
She nodded slowly, brows furrowed deeply. “I–I think so.”
I sagged, my relief palpable. “Good.”
She leaned forward then, resting her elbows on her thighs, eyes open and staring into mine, and all at once she was far too close for comfort—and that was saying something, considering no less than two minutes ago she’d had her face in my lap.
We were too close.
Suddenly, I felt very exposed.
My hands moved from her waist to her thighs, an automatic reaction to having a female lean her face toward mine. I quickly checked myself, pulling my hands away to rest on the bench instead.
Clearing my throat, I forced a small smile. “You’re alive.”
