Koen’s hand moves over mine, keeping the wrapping in place when I slide my hand out from under his. Darting back across the hall into the bathroom, I search the counter and the medicine cabinet for anything I can use. My eyes fall to a box of unicorn Band-Aids.
I let out a laugh, exhaustion or crazy winning out, and I clasp my hand over my mouth so as to not lose it entirely. I take a few extra minutes to wash myself up in the bathroom, washing Koen’s blood off into the sink with a few rounds of soap and water. Snatching up the box, I head back across the hall to Koen.
Proudly keeping a straight face, I pull open the box. Using three unicorn Band-Aids, I secure the medical wrap around the gunshot wound. Satisfied that it’s not going anywhere, I release a breath, stepping back to admire my handiwork.
Koen’s staring at the Band-Aids with an arched brow.
“Unicorns?”
“Mhm,” I say, not trusting myself to open my mouth right now, fighting a bubble of hysterical laughter brewing in my throat.
“What are you,two?” he teases, and I laugh. The unicorn bandages amongst all his dark and gloomy tattoos is a little bit funny.
“Three actually. Almost four,” I say jokingly, the words losing their amusement halfway through, and the last two words come out in nearly a whisper.
My eyes shift to his, horrified to find him watching me. I press my lips together, sweeping up the last remnants of supplies and dumping them onto my dresser to clean up later. Without thinking, I pull open one of the drawers, ripping off my blood stained t-shirt to replace it with a fresh one. My back is to Koen, and I’ve got the new shirt halfway over my head when I remember he is, in fact,right there.
I can feel the burn of his stare on my back like a brand. My movements slow and I pull on the rest of the shirt. It falls nearly to my knees, covering my shorts almost entirely. Hesitantly, I turn back to face him, remembering how he said he didn’t want tostay outside tonight,and for the first time, I really think about what he meant by that.
“Are you staying here?” I want to pat myself on the back for being bold enough to ask.
“I’m on ballerina watch tonight,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips, but I can see exhaustion wearing on his features. He’s a little pale from all the blood loss.
“I’ll give you the night off.”
He huffs out a half-laugh.
“What’s wrong with your place?”
“The windows are broken,” he shrugs. “Can’t get them fixed until tomorrow.” I try making sense of what he just said. He lives on the top floor… “Yourwindowsare broken?” I ask for confirmation, but he ignores me, pushing himself further up my bed until he’s able to lie back. His head hitting my pillow.
“What are you doing?”
“Sleeping. It. Off.” He has the audacity to arch a brow at me. “I believe this was discussed already.”
“Inmybed?” I’m unable to hide the alarm in my tone.
“I’m wounded.” He bats those long eyelashes at me. “You’re really going to make me take the couch?”
If I’m not mistaken, his expression is almost… playful.
I stare down at him. Half annoyed, half—I don’t know what I am. But the tattooed god from my nightmares is currently lying in my bed, half-naked. So I start for the door.
“Don’t you dare, Briar Rose. I know you’re dancing first thing in the morning. You get your ass in this bed right now.”
“But…”
“No buts. Injured or not, I’ll pick you up and put you in here if I have to.”
Sure that I’ll live to regret this, I let my shoulders drop, ripping back the covers and climbing inside. Careful to keep to the far edge of the mattress, as far away from Koen as I can manage.
“Just pretend I’m not here.”
Oh, sure, no problem.
50
MY SWEATSHIRT
