In the bathroom, I leave the door cracked so the steam doesn’t fog everything up, then start the shower and peel out of my T-shirt and jeans, then drop my glasses on the counter. I look like a stranger in the mirror, but it’s not because of the seizure.
My dark hair is lifeless and limp, the bags under my eyes are epic, my face is gaunt, and even my freckles seem pale. There are days I wish I were more like my brother. Effortlessly attractive and unafraid to use it to get what I want. I was never bold like him, never brave. I was curious, but too afraid to voice what I wanted.
It was a miracle anyone noticed me before, and I don’t expect that to happen again.
With a deep breath, I step under the spray and close my eyes as the water cascades over my shoulders. I need a massage, badly, but this does a little to help some of my muscles unknot.
Rolling my head, I let the water pound against my neck, then finally, I back up to sit. The little soap caddy sits against the glass door of the shower, and I look for the little purple spot on the side. Usually, by the time I remember to do this part of my routine, it’s late at night, and my ability to read no longer exists. Easton came up with the clever dots, and they do help.
Purple for shampoo, blue for conditioner, red for bodywash.
I lather the soap in my hands, then scrub it into my hair before leaning forward to watch all the suds circle the drain. It’s almost hypnotizing, and I only draw out of it when the bubbles are gone.
Taking a breath, I lean back to get the water out of my eyes and the world tilts. Panic hits me, and I reach to the right, scrambling for purchase. My hand hits all the soap bottles, and each one tumbles to the shower floor with a crash so loud, it makes my temples ache.
“Fuck!”
Dropping to my knees, my eyes are blurry with the running water from my hair, and I feel around to clean up the mess when suddenly, there’s an even louder bang. My entire body feels that like it’s been shocked by the sound, and I tumble sideways, hitting the shower door. It pops open, and cool air hits me as I brace to hit the floor…only I don’t.
I hit something else instead.
Something warm.
Something soft, yet strong.
“Jesus Christ, it’s like you’re trying to die today.” Suddenly, I’m being lifted in a bridal carry, and I get an immediate whiff of cologne.
Oh my god, it’s North. He’s cradling me in his arms, and I’m naked again, and this time, I’m in his arms. Every instinct I have is to let myself linger in his grasp, but then my mind almost violently remembers what happened last time he saw me in all my glory, and I quickly roll over, attempting to shield myself from his prying eyes.
“What the fuck? Let me go!”
As though he can’t help obeying my command, his arms fall to his sides, and this time, I actually do hit the floor.
“I am so sorry. Oh god, look at you. You have abruise,” North groans softly as he wraps something around my shoulders. My robe, I realize as he attempts to take my arms and shove them through the sleeves.
Batting his hands away, I wrap the fabric tighter around myself and squint at him as he steps back and paces in front of me. My body is aching from hitting the tile, and I really do have a bruise forming on the left side of my ass, which took the brunt of the fall.
North panicked as soon as he let me go and tried to catch me mid-fall, but being that I was soaking wet and still slightly soapy, I slid through his hands. Now I’m limping toward my bed because the last thing I want is to be spread-eagle in front of him.
The blankets are soft as I drop down, which is nice, but I immediately soak into the covers, which is going to make fora really fucking annoying night’s sleep. There’s nothing worse than wet sheets.
Well, except maybe wet socks.
Or annoying-as-fuck neighbors who feed crows and barge into your bathroom unannounced while you’re trying to clean up your own disaster.
I glance up, and my eyes attempt to follow his movements, but it immediately triggers my vertigo. Letting out a sharp breath, I let my head fall down toward my knees and wait it out.
“Can you stop pacing? It’s making me dizzy. And also, I’m fine.”
“Are you? You fell in the shower, Leo,” he says like I wasn’t there to experience this whole thing. Also, he’s wrong, but he doesn’t give me a chance to tell him that. “I knew I should have come with you.”
“Okay, no,” I say slowly. “I’m a grown, almost thirty-year-old man. I can shower on my own. Even if I have seizures,” I add before he tries to get all chivalrous or whatever the hell he’s trying to do. “And second, I didn’t fall in the shower. I got a little dizzy and knocked over the bottles of soap. Ifellwhen youdroppedme.”
He slaps a hand over his face so hard the sound bounces off the walls. “Fuuuuck. I can’t believe I dropped you. You had a seizure, and then I dropped you! Someone should lock me away.”
“Can you stop that, please?” My words come out tight with offense. He’s doing what people always fucking do and treating me like I’m made of spun sugar. “I’m barely hurt, and I’m not that breakable.”
North freezes. “I didn’t mean to?—”
