“Figured you may appreciate some sugar,” she says, nodding towards my arm. “You’re looking a little pale, Lucy. Or would you prefer Kara?”
“Depends. Am I having this conversation with Maria or Susan?”
“Lucy,” Owen says from the doorway.
I look up and a shadow passes over his face, before he moves his head softly.
She’s not the villain.
His expression reminds me. How is it that with a single look, he can make me feel like shit and feel so unbelievably small?
“Let’s get you patched up,” he says, holding up the first aid kit.
Maria’s hand wraps around my arm quickly as I go to pass her. “For what it’s worth, it’s nice to see you,” she says, her eyes filling with unshed tears.
I don’t reply though. I can’t, because I’m not sure what’s going to come out. So, I just nod and follow Owen to the bathroom. There he stitches me up in silence.
It stretches between us so loudly making the bathroom loud and stifling, making it hard to breathe. He asks if I’m okay, he asks if he’s hurting me, but I stay silent. Watching him work, watching his frown lines, and how his strong hands hold the dainty needle, and he sews me back together again.
“There. You’re now symmetrical.” He says after applying the last bit of tape to my now fully bandaged arm.
I take in my now matching wound. “Thanks.”
“You need to talk to her; I think it will help,”
“You want me to talk a lot at the moment.”
“Please, Lucy.” His eyes pleading as I briefly meet his. He crouches down and packs the supplies back up, throwing the dirty, blood-soaked material into a bag. Tension thick between us. Like just before the storm, thick and heavy.
“I will.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” He stands and smirks at me, holding out his hand.
I grip it and he pulls me up, blocking my path.
“Promise me.” He holds up his little finger.
“You want me to pinkie promise you?”
“It is the sacred vow—”
“That anyone can swear, too.”
“If broken—”
“You will suffer serious consequences,” he finishes our saying.
He grins at me, and it’s like we’re teenagers again, hiding in the toilet, sneaking some time together, a secret kiss. I smile back and lean forward, taking his mouth in mine, his lips firm and warm. I wrap my arms around his waist, but he stands unmoving.
Frowning, I pull back. He kisses my forehead before stepping back, shaking his head.
“I know what you’re doing,” he says, touching my lips gently before cupping my cheek in his hand. “Misdirection 101.” He steps back and holds up his little finger again.
“You’re a child,” I tut.
“Pinkie promise me, Lucy.”
“Fine. God you’re annoying.” I wrap my little finger around his.
