“He did not,” August says, putting the ice back. “Your brother has a mean right hook.”
“Actually, I think it was his left.”
“Well, excuse me, madam, I was too busy holding my face to notice which fist hit me.” He shakes his head and attempts to chuckle, but he grimaces when he does. “Asshole.”
I stroke a piece of brown hair from his forehead, guiding it back to the rest of the strands. “He can be. But then again, so can you.”
“I thought you were here to make sure that I was okay. This hardly seems like you are doing that.”
“What would you like me to do that I’m not doing?” I ask him. I almost hate the way I phrased that.
Amusement dances in his eyes. “There are many things that I would like you to do that you are not doing. For example, I think you’d get a much better look at my face if you were straddlingme. Might help make sure that my jaw doesn’t need reset or something.”
“’Fat chance,” I say, swatting him on the back of the head. “And you didn’t get hit that hard.”
“Ouch,” he says rubbing the back of his head. “Great, now I’ve been hit by both Monroes. Maybe your father would like to come by and sock me in the stomach. Or maybe your mom?—”
I cut him off before he can finish that sentence. “Nope, I think Ash and I will do for now. Besides, my father would not come here to hit you. He has no idea who you even are.”
“Really?” he asks, his eyebrows raising in surprise. “Your brother sure as shit does. Enough that he punched me because I took a couple of cheap shots at him.” I go to interrupt him, but he holds his hand up and continues, “I was only responding to his own insults. But if those cheap shots were any indication of how mad he was at me, there’s no way you father wouldn't want to get one in too.”
I shake my head. “He would have to pay attention for more than five seconds.”
August nods. “I know the type.”
I know he does. His own father doesn’t really speak to him unless he is criticizing him.
“I know you do,” I say, watching him. Staring at his dark eyes that are focused on me. I’m not sure if it’s the lighting or the way he’s looking at me, but I have the urge to lean and see if I can press some feather-light kisses up and down that jaw. I’d love to know if it could heal him.
“Hendrix,” August says quietly.
I lean in a bit more. If I move a fraction of an inch, I might be able to touch my lips to his. “August.”
“What did he mean when he said that he found you within inches of taking...” His voice trails off. “Where was he going with that?”
The spell was broken with just one question. I turn and sit beside him now, stretching my legs out to touch the ottoman. “August, please just leave it.”
“I don’t think I want to do that, Hen. Tell me what he meant. Because I think I know where he was going with that, but I want but I want you to know you can talk to me.” He switches hands with the ice pack and places a cold hand on my thigh. “Did you..?” But he doesn’t finish the sentence. He’s waiting for me.
I lay my head back and look up at his white textured ceiling. Wishing that I had just gone inside and spent some time with Ben & Jerry. I can’t believe Ash let that part slip out and I wasn’t smart enough to think this far ahead. I should have realized that he was going to ask me about this. I can still see August’s eyes widen at the words.
“I messed you up that badly, huh?” he asks, his voice quiet in the already silent apartment.
“August, I—” But I don’t finish the sentence. I have no idea how.
“Please, Hendrix, I know that I have no right to ask you this question, but I have to know. What did you try and do to yourself because of something thatIdid to you?”
I sigh, covering my face with my hands before sliding them down it. “Do we really have to talk about this? Can’t I just give you a blow job? I was good at those, remember?” Looking in his direction, I shoot him a wink.
“Hendrix, I wanna talk about this. Stop trying to distract me.” His jaw is set, while his lips are forming a line. He’s going to dig his heels in on this one.
“Do you really want to know?”
He sighs, exasperated. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
“Fine. I will tell you, but you have to promise me that you will not look at me.”
“Hendrix—”
