And just like when I was fifteen, looking at him left me speechless. Dark hair an unnamable color, offset by his sharp eyes that seemed to notice everything. Whenever he did notice me, I felt his stare, like a touch to the skin—heightening all my senses until I was breathless and dizzy. His body was solid and fierce, towering over me, always eliciting the filthiest of fantasies from my mind.
I tucked my hair behind my ear and tried to stop my face from heating.
“I um…uh…I think I should just c-clean up inside and—” I looked down and laughed absurdly, “change my clothes.”
“I brought my first aid kit. Someone needs to look at your cuts and clean them.” His expression looked hollow, dark half moons under his eyes. I wondered if he had just come home from work or was just leaving. He looked bleary-eyed, but clean-shaven, his eyes softening as he looked back at me.
“I’m fine,” my voice trembled, betraying me.
“Come here, Liv. Let me take care of you.” I dreamt of him saying those words all throughout my angst-filled teen years.Focus, Liv, he was just talking about your scrapes.
My throat knotted up. This really wasn’t how I’d thought my weekend would go. Mother drunk, again. Driving to see her, only to find her collapsed and passed out on the floor, and then him saving the day. Trying to be all hero-like.
He didn’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so I kicked the door closed and shook my head, “No. Really, I’m fine. Thanks for the offer.” I walked into the dining room, awkwardly staring at him, not knowing how else to make him leave.
He pulled up on the strap of his pack from where it sat on the couch, and dragged a hand through his hair. “You’re bleeding.”
I waved a hand. “It’s nothing, I swear.”
“Then, you won’t mind me looking at it,” he scowled, shifting toward me.
I backed up as he walked closer until my bottom bumped the edge of the dining room table, sending a plastic vase of flowers on its side.
“Why don’t you take off your pants?” he said, glancing at his watch before crossing his arms.
“Excuse me?” I stammered.
His eyebrows rose. “Your legs? They’re bleeding Liv, let me take a look at them.” His tone was sharp, his jaw tight. He narrowed his eyes as I stood there in disbelief. I jammed my hands on my hips defiantly, trying to think of something to say to get him to go.
Then his lips pursed and a smirk fueled smile cracked across his face, a tiny twinge of wickedness dancing just behind his eyes.
And all I could think was:When was the last time I’d waxed?
When was the last time a guy asked me to take off my pants?
“Come on, Liv. Look, how about you hop up on the table and pull up your pants then. I need to see where all the blood is coming from.”
“Stop trying to get in my pants. I’m fine, and you’re not a doctor.”
What started as a chuckle turned into an outright laugh, knocking me closer into the table. “Come on, Liv.”
“I’m not standing here in front of you with just my underwear on—”
“Fine. Then, take those off too.”
Arrogant ass.
“Would you stop, please, I’m kidding. I’ve probably seen you a hundred times in a bathing suit or pajamas or your damn underwear, and it’s never been anything like that.”
And that was the problem, wasn’t it?
He had never, nor will ever, see me as more than his little sister’s friend. I was about fifteen the last time I really spoke with him; he was twenty. I was just a stupid kid to him, but to me, he was a whole lot more. Fifteen-year-olds can mistake a friendly smile for falling in love and an after-school drive home for a chance to…I didn’t want to even think about it. I wasn’t fifteen any more.Thank God.
“Fine,” I said, unbuttoning my pants. “But, I’m telling you; it’s not a big deal, just a few scratches.”Please let me not have worn my period underwear.
Black lacy thong!Yes. Eat crow, Dean! Just look at what you’ve lost out on all these years!
He didn’t even notice. Not even a flicker of those damn perfect eyes or a tremble of his fingers. He just smiled politely and patted the cuts down with gauze.
