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“You’re a dick.”
“Admit it. It’s freeing. You think the wounded guy’s attractive,” she said.
“Yes, okay? I thought he was cute.”
“You thought he was more than cute.”
“I’m going to douse you in my hot coffee.”
“It’s not even steaming anymore.”
“I’m going to douse you with my lukewarm coffee before cracking the pot over your head.”
“Mmm, foreplay. Don’t you know you should never get me riled up in the morning? I hate morning sex.”
“I hate you in the mornings. Why do you make me talk in the mornings?” I asked.
“Because it’s too much fun for me to watch you struggle,” she said, smiling.
A silence fell over us before I drew in a deep breath.
“I really hope he’s okay,” I said.
“I knew it,” Bianca said.
“Okay, yes. Fine. You want me to say it? I thought he was attractive.” The truth was I thought he was more than attractive. He was gorgeous. Thick. Strong. And his voice when he spoke rumbled and shook my damn ribcage. “But he was also bleeding all over himself from a fucking stab wound and calling out for help. And I held his trembling body while his skin paled and his eyes went in and out of focus. So forgive me if I don’t want to think about a man in my arms grabbing onto his life with all the strength he had.”
“Jess, I didn’t mean to—”
“No, you didn’t mean to. You never mean to do anything. But you always take shit too far. I’m never going to know if that man is okay. If he survived or if his family is grieving his death right now. I’ll never know his name or what he does for a living or if he was passing through or if he lives in the cesspool of Charleston. I’ll never get to go out to dinner with him or even figure out if I’m his type. Because you were right, he was my type. Satisfied?”
I chugged down the rest of my coffee while Bianca stared at me.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said.
“That doesn't mean you didn’t.”
I got up from the couch and tossed my plastic mug into the kitchen sink. I was done talking. What I wanted to do was pile back into my bed and go to sleep. I didn’t want to think about that man any longer. I didn’t want to think about the pain rushing over his handsome face or the way his skin tinted at my touch. I didn’t want to think about how his lips felt against my skin before they coughed up blood onto my work clothes.
All I wanted to do was sleep.
“Jess?”
“Hmm?”
“You awake?”
I rolled over in bed and groaned when I saw light still filtering through the curtains of my room.
“What do you want?” I asked groggily.
“Just wanted to make sure you were still alive.”
“A poor taste in joke since we just got done talking about a man who could be dead,” I said.
“Just got done? What are you talking about?”
I rolled over and looked at the clock as it flashed a little after ten thirty. I tossed the covers back over my head and rolled over, then allowed my eyes to fall closed.
