“I didn’t think that would matter, anyway, since we don’t have the kind of marriage in which we could actually trade STDs.”
Her eyes dart down again, and a lightbulb goes off above my head. I think I’m starting to understand how I might make up for hurting her last night.
“There’s always the possibility of a blood-borne pathogen transfer during a kitchen accident. In fact, I was pretty close to drawing blood the day you moved in,” she mumbles.
“This is true.” I watch her expression carefully as I continue. “Or in the unfortunate event we’d run into one another outside the shower again but neither of us has a warm towel handy.”
Her face reddens again. “We can’t have that, can we?” she remarks, but instead of sounding sarcastic, her tone seems … sad.
I replay yesterday’s conversation in my head again, especially the last part when I told her that we have the perfect relationship because we don’t have to bother with anything physical.
I really am the world’s biggest idiot.
Because even though I meant what I said and have absolutely no intention of changing our dynamic, Daisy obviously wants more. Or at least she thinks she wants more. My guess is that she’s just longing for the romantic aspect and not necessarily for me, although I could see how she might mistake our mutual feelings of fondness, trust, and familiarity for something deeper. Hell, at this point, if I weren’t so vigilant about not letting my thoughts of Daisy drift into more-than-friends territory, I’m sure I’d be tempted to?—
The timer beeps just then, letting us know the test is ready to read. I watch as she clears her throat and hops down from the table.
“Two lines means it’s positive, even if the test line is faint,” I volunteer as she studies the strip.
“Well, congratulations. It’s a boy,” she replies, holding it up so I can see the positive result.
“Figured.” I rise to my feet to track down a syringe and a vial of penicillin. I attempt to draw up the medicine myself, but my hands are trembling, and I realize I’ve gotten weaker since we arrived.
“You’ll have to do it,” I say on a sigh, handing it over to her. “Have you ever given an injection before?”
“No, but I’ve been on the receiving end of plenty, so I’m sure I’ll manage. Do I really need gloves?” she asks as she takes the vial and syringe.
“Nah. This would probably kill most cooties of the STD-variety, anyway.”
She laughs and waits for my instructions to draw up the correct dosage while I find an alcohol pad, then I explain how to administer the shot. I’m about to reach for my sleeve when another stupid impulsive idea overtakes my already foggy brain, and I turn to face the table instead.
“You’ll need to wipe the injection site with that alcohol pad first,” I turn to instruct over my shoulder.
She stares at me in confusion. “Okay. Don’t I need your arm for that?”
I shake my head, barely holding back a smile. “Not enough fatty tissue there. Since you’re an amateur, it’s probably best if you hit me with it from behind.”
Daisy rears back and blinks a few times. “Y-you want me to put in your butt?”
“More or less.” I reach behind me to lift my shirt and pull my pants down on one side. Then I take the alcohol pad and wipe the upper edge of my left cheek. “See where I’m wiping? You can stick me right there, where my hip ends and my ass cheek begins.”
“Mm-hmm,” she squeaks, and I watch with amusement as her eyes run over the area I’ve exposed.
“Daisy?”
“Yeah, I’m, um … can you show me again, just in case? I feel like this is too important to mess up.”
I chuckle softly and reach back to grab her free hand, then press her index finger into the right spot. “Right about there. Just disinfect the site again before you administer the injection, okay?”
She nods quickly, her eyes still glued to the space. “Got it.”
I lean farther down, planting my elbows on the table. Although I’m not sure what I’m trying to accomplish with my tactics besides either grossing her out or giving her a small thrill. “This any better?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s … that works.”
She blinks and shakes her head with her fingertip still pinned to my butt cheek, and it takes all I have not to laugh again. Eventually, she reaches for the alcohol and moves her finger to clean the spot, then she inhales deeply behind me. “Ready?”
“Yeah, go for it. Make sure you take all your resentment out while you’re at it—” But I interrupt myself to blurt out a four-letter word when Daisy literally jams the needle between my glute muscles.
