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“If you need help, call me.” He grabbed one bottle of water and sat at the kitchen island.
“I won’t need your help,” I said, looking over my shoulder at him.
I played my favorite songs from my phone and hummed as I cooked. I moved my body to the beat when it got to my favorite song.
I had stayed with him for a month now. I knew Tristan had a lot going on, and he wasn’t worth my kindness or patience. I only hoped he had a good reason for what he had done. But to be honest, I kind of liked it here. I could be myself and do stuff without worrying about my mom’s wrath, but I needed to find a way to leave soon.
I screamed the lyrics to“Dancing with a Stranger”, using the spoon as my mic.
I heard Tristan laugh, but when I turned around, he was so engrossed in his laptop.
I picked one knife and chopped the onion. The knife slipped from my hand when I tried to dance to the ending of the song.
“Ouch!” I groaned when it hit my right thigh. The cut left me cursing.
“Shit!” I stared at the blood that slid down my skin.
Thank God it wasn’t a deep cut. Shallow, but the pain preyed upon my sensitive skin, whipping me with tyrannical thorns.
“What the hell were you doing?” Tristan asked, standing up from his seat.
“It was an accident.”
He searched the cabinet and brought out the first aid kit.
“Let me take a look at it.”
He took my hand and led me to the living room. I sat on the sofa as he knelt between my legs, bringing out the cotton balls and a small bottle.
“This is what you get for being clumsy.”
“I’m not clumsy,” I defended myself.
“You don’t dance with knives,” he whispered, leaning in.
“I couldn’t resist. It was my favorite song.”
“You’re a horrible dancer,” he said.
“I caught you watching,” I whispered with a bit of sultriness.
“Have you seen the way your ass looks in those shorts? Especially when you started swaying your hips, I couldn’t get any work done on my laptop.” He groaned, as if it’d tortured him.
“Hmm,” I hummed with a small smile. I hadn’t known he was that engrossed in my awful dancing.
I closed my legs when he brought the soaked cotton ball closer to the gash on my skin.
“Stay still.” He gripped my thigh with his free hand and pushed my legs apart. His warmth rubbed against my thigh.
I held my breath and closed my eyes, ready to welcome the pain. I winced immediately after it touched the cut; the pain shot through every part of my body. I tried to close my legs, but he held tighter.
I threw my head back in pain, biting on my lower lip. I groaned while biting my lip harder, like it would stop the pain.
The pain subsided as I felt the warm air on my skin. I opened my eyes and saw him blowing some air on the cut. The way his lips formed a circle and how dangerously close his lips were to my skin sent my mind swirling with dirty thoughts.
The only thing I could think about was his hand on my thigh and his lips close to my skin. The kiss from last time replayed in my head. I shouldn’t be thinking about this. He was the reason for everything wrong in my life.
But I couldn’t help the urge to feel his lips and hands on me again. I looked away when he withdrew. He applied an ointment that made the wound hurt more. I looked at him, only to find him staring at my lip still between my teeth. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he had the same look in his eyes from our last kiss.
