His eyes went sinister. “Do you want me to help?”
“Jesus, Guy!”
“Okay, forget I asked. But the door’s open if you need me,” he said airily. “I’m pretty good at it.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I scowled, finally finding my heating pad and turning it on. “I was watching Emily in Paris. Should we do something else?”
“Whatever you want, Birdy. I’m just here to keep you company and make sure you don’t bleed out or cramp to death.”
“That’s not quite how periods work, but I appreciate it anyway.”
Guy sat up in the bed, pulling me between his legs to lean into his chest. He wrapped his arms around my waist to hold my heating pad. Even though he was a wall of hard muscle, it was surprisingly cozy and warm snuggling into him. At first, Guy acted like he didn’t care about Emily in Paris. He was annoyed at the French stereotypes and the ridiculous cutesiness of it all.
By the third episode, he was furious. “Why is she even fucking with Alfie when she’s in love with Gabriel?!”
“Gabriel’s with Camille!” I argued.
“Well, he shouldn’t be. These people ignore their feelings!”
“I think that’s the point.”
“And you like watching people torture themselves?”
“I mean, they’re pretty people and it’s more angst than torture,” I pointed out.
“True,” Guy sighed.
“Do you want me to turn it off?”
“No,” he sulked. “I’m invested now.”
We both took a bathroom break, then got back into bed. Guy readjusted so he was spooning me.
“Can I get you anything? You comfortable?”
“I’m actually pretty tired,” I said.
“Do you want me to leave or keep you company?”
“Whatever you want. I’m cool if you stay.”
“Good, because I’m tired, too.”
And so we fell asleep like that, with Guy’s breath on the back of my neck and his warm, heavy arm holding my heating pad in place.
It was strange, and I knew it. Guy and I were snuggly friends. That day had been the first time we’d ever discussed anything remotely sexual, other than our slut-shaming conversation and the time he had his hand up my shirt in high school. I wondered what he would have done if I’d told him to get me off. Was he just joking? Or was he for real? Luckily, my body was too worn out to keep me up analyzing it.
Until it wasn’t. A few hours later, I woke to intensely painful cramps. My stomach roiled and I feared I’d throw up from the pain. It felt like my uterus was trying to physically leave my body. I curled forward and writhed as the waves of pain came over me. I let out a little cry. Guy stirred awake.
“Birdy?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong,mapuce?”
“It’s really bad,” I gasped.
“What can I do?” His hand ran over my hair, kissing behind my ear.
“What time is it?”
“3:30.”
