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I looked at her in surprise. “You short? I can spot you.”
“I don’t need your money,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “But that’s really sweet.”
“Just sayin’,” I continued. “All you gotta do is ask. Hell, you don’t even have to ask, just make a hand signal or somethin’.”
“I don’t need any money,” she repeated with emphasis. “Why do you think I’ve been working two jobs? Here, this one is done.” She handed me a clean roller. “I’ve saved up enough that I should be able to get by with one job and be able to cover tuition.”
“Damn.”
“That’s assuming my grandparents don’t kick me out or something,” she joked. “Then I’d be screwed.”
“No you wouldn’t. You could always live here.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked, laughing. “That would work out great.”
“I have an extra room,” I said, a little offended. “We could make it work.”
“Are you asking me to move in?” She fluttered her eyelashes at me.
“You’re such an ass,” I huffed. “I’m just sayin’ if you couldn’t live with your grandparents, you could stay here.”
“If they ever kick me out, I’ll remember that,” she said, resting her head on my shoulder for a moment. “Thank you.”
“But please, don’t piss off Samson and Ash,” I mumbled, my lips twitching. “Because I don’t have a lot of space.”
“I’ll do my best,” she replied solemnly.
Later, as we were getting settled in on the couch with a huge bag of chips and a tub of grocery store guacamole, I noticed that Nova was still favoring her right arm a little.
“Shit,” I said, hopping back to my feet. “I totally forgot—” I jogged toward my room.
“You forgot what?” Nova yelled from the couch.
I came back out holding a little tub of ointment that my mom had given me months before.
“I have bruise shit.”
“Bruise shit?”
I looked at the tub. “Arnica,” I replied, opening it up. “And CBD. My mom got it from some lady at a farmers’ market.”
“Nice combo,” she replied as she pulled her arm out of the hoodie sleeve and bared the bruise. “Hit me.”
“You should probably do this,” I said, pausing with a dollop of goo on my fingers.
“Then we’ll both have that shit all over our hands,” she pointed out with a laugh. “Come on, slap some on there.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I murmured, moving my hand this way and that, trying to figure out the easiest way to wipe the goo on her bruise while barely touching it.
“It doesn’t hurt that bad,” she said softly, poking at the bruise with her finger. “See?”
“Quit it.” Every time she poked it, I winced.
Gently, so fucking gently, I rubbed the arnica onto her bruise, making sure that I got it all the way to the edges. The longer I looked at it, the less I believed that she’d bumped into a doorframe. I just couldn’t figure out why she’d lie about it. Maybe, if it was some kind of sex injury she wouldn’t tell me, but I knew that wasn’t the case since I’d been the one fucking her the night before.
“Thanks, Rum,” she said as I pulled my hand away.
“No problem.” I screwed the lid back on and handed it to her. “Here, keep putting this on and it’ll go away faster.”
