She frowns. "I don't have a headache."
"Preventative measures, peaches."
With a determined nod, she knocks them back.
"Tired?"
She has to think about it. "Yes."
"Need to brush your teeth?"
"Already did. I was speedy like a fox." Her arms whoosh like she's sprinting.
"Ready for bed?"
"Yup." She's already climbing in, and once I pull the covers up to her chin, I kneel, gently taking off her glasses to fold them and put them on the nightstand. Without her glasses in the way, I can see every dark eyelash, her dark eyes with that sunshiney burst around her blown pupils. Her trusting eyes are relaxed and sparkly, her smile making the corners crinkle ever so gently.
I could drown in the sight. For a second, I do.
She sighs happily, bringing me back to myself. I pick up the trashcan, showing it to her.
"Just in case--trashcan, for puking." I set it down, and she follows my hand as I point to each item. "Gatorade and water, crackers if you're woozy. Advil, Tums." I scan the room, finding her phone at the foot of her bed so I can plug it in for her.
"Thanks, Coach." She smiles up at me sweetly.
"You're welcome. Anything else?"
A mighty frown hits her face, surprising me. "Wait, are you leaving?"
I pause. "Well…yeah."
Her hand shoots out to grab mine--it's small and warm and strong. "Oh, no. No, you have to stay."
Again I kneel, not separating our hands. "How come?" I ask gently.
"Well, what if I…what if I forget what I'm supposed to do? What if I wake up and don't remember?"
A chuckle. "It's not advanced math, peaches."
"Well…what if I'm sick and I need something but I can't get up?"
"You can call me."
Her eyes are big and brown and unhappy, and that does something to me that I can't account for. "Will you stay? Please?"
I probably should run. But I don't. Instead, I sigh and nod. "All right. I'll stay."
My knees pop when I stand, but she's happily sitting up, visibly relieved. "Oh good. Thank you, Grey. Here, you can sleep in here."
I'm already halfway to the door and snort. "Absolutely not."
"You can't sleep out there. The couch is too small, so uncomfortable. It's no big deal, Grey, it'll be fine! We'll just put pillows between--"
I hit the light and am out of her room as fast as I can. "Absolutely not," I repeat. Then stop in her living room and stare. Everything is shabby and small and familiar, including the couch, which I'm certain is going to do something heinous to my back. But I look around for a throw blanket, finding a big fluffy one in a chair by the window that I imagine her cuddled up in with a book.
"Okay," she says on a yawn. "Thanks again. Night!"
"Night," I call, wondering how the fuck I got here. How did it get this far? How'd I lose this much of my own leash?
