“Yeah, it was kind of mutual. I mean, I liked him, but I get why he ended things. He wasn’t prepared for all my medical issues.”
“How is that going?” Orion asks. I breathe in the coffee aroma. My head swims a little and I lean against the counter and close my eyes for a moment. “Ty? You don’t look too–”
Everything goes black before I can hear the end of his sentence.
WhenIopenmyeyes again, I’m lying down. It takes me a second to get my bearings, but the lights are dim in this room. It’s not the coffee shop. There’s a beeping noise somewhere around me, too. I blink slowly, still feeling a little groggy, but much better than this morning.
I move my hand to rub at my eyes, but there are wires and… an IV? I drop my hand back down and really take in the rest of the room.
I’m in a hospital room. It’s white, bland, with machines scattered around. There’s one on either side of the bed I’m lying in and one across the room. There’s a TV mounted to the wall opposite me, a large window with a stiff couch under it to my right. The door to the hallway is to the left and I’m pretty sure it’s a bathroom for the final door.
I don’t remember how I got here.
There’s the little button thing laying next to me and I grab it, pressing the red top once. I hear a buzzer outside and wait for someone to come in.
The last person I expect to see walk through the door is Brandt. He’s smiling, rubbing his hands together with the sanitizer, no doubt. I’ve known him for over a year now, talking to him for five minutes at a time once or twice a week. He’s wearing black scrubs, which almost look tailored on him.
“Hey, Tyler. How are you feeling?”
“Tired,” I say. I try to sit up, but Brandt lays a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re going to be best friends with this bed for a couple more hours at least,” he says. I watch him as he looks at the machines and then jots down a few things before turning back to me.
“Seriously, how are you feeling?” Brandt stands next to the bed, his eyes looking me up and down. “Headaches? Cold chills, anything?”
Trying to be aware enough of my body to answer that makes me realize I need to pee. I squirm a bit but before I can even say anything, Brandt is moving again. He bends down and grabs something from a cabinet before turning around. I definitely don’t notice the way his scrubs stretch around his backside.
When he turns around, all potential sexy thoughts are lost. He’s holding a plastic container with a long handle. I don’t know what it is until he starts talking.
“While I’m glad you’re awake, it’s only been about an hour and we need to retest your blood levels to make sure you’re stable. So, as a present for being a fall risk, you get to use one of these to use the bathroom.”
He smiles at me again, like it really is a present.
I groan.
Brandt laughs.
“It’s not that bad,” Brandt says. I can feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment as he moves the blanket off my legs.
“Um, I can do that myself.” I know he’s a nurse and does this all the time, probably, but it’s different when we know each other outside of this hospital room. I mean, we kind of know each other. It isn’t like we’re best friends.
“If you’re more comfortable with that,” Brandt says. “It can be a little tricky to hold and use at the same time since you’re not sitting up.”
I don’t know what would be worse, having him help me or having to change the bedding and gown I’m wearing if I make a mess.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh.
“Tyler, I’m serious. It’s okay. I do this all the time.” I relent and let him continue to fold the blanket. He puts on a pair of gloves and lifts up the gown I’m wearing. I realize I’m not wearing any underwear when he folds up the gown all the way. “Okay, so you’re just going to spread your legs a bit, enough for me to hold this while you go.”
My legs twitch at the cool plastic against my warm skin. Brandt mutters a quiet apology before pressing his palm against one of my legs.
I stare at the ceiling and let him work, trying my best to not feel self-conscious about this moment. My bladder releases with no problem as soon as Brandt says I’m good.
When I finish, Brandt disappears into the bathroom for a minute. I adjust the gown and blanket back over my legs. I feel better, for sure, but I know I’ve been slacking on maintaining the grooming down there. It’s such a fickle thing to be worried about when you’re laying in a hospital bed.
I look over at Brandt when he comes out of the bathroom without the container. He isn’t wearing gloves either and he tosses a paper towel into the trash.
“Okay, back to the game of a hundred questions,” Brandt says. “Headaches?” I shake my head side-to-side. “Bones aching?” No. “Upset tummy?”
