“Peach?” Connor snorts.
“Yeah, because you’re so soft and sweet and fuzzy. You’re a peach.”
“I think taking a double dose of pain meds has come back to bite you on the arse.” He smiles. I like it when he smiles, especially when I’m the cause of it. Even if it is because I’m drugged up and making a tit of myself.
“I love peaches,” I sigh, dropping sideways onto the sofa.
“You can have as many peaches as you want tomorrow, but I think you need to get to bed now. I’ll go to the car and bring you some pyjamas.”
Connor tries to stand but I haul him back down.
“No!” I shout. “You can’t leave me! What if there’s an emergency?”
“I’ll only be two minutes!”
I pout at him, hoping I look cute, but probably end up looking like a duck.
“Okay, I won’t go. But you’re going to have to sleep in those clothes if you won’t let me get your own.”
Satisfied in my victory, I curl up on in the couch cushions like a cat and close my eyes. “That’s fine.” I yawn. “I’m super comfy in these. Do you know where I got them from? I think I borrowed them from a giant.”
Connor throws his head back and laughs loudly.
“Bedtime!” he orders, trying to pull me up by my hand, but my body’s gone floppy and I don’t trust my legs to hold me.
“My legs have turned to jelly,” I mumble. I’m vaguely aware of my words starting to slur. “I’ll have to camp here until they turn back into legs.”
“No chance.”
Despite my numb skin, I feel his hands slide beneath my knees and around my back, electricity sparking with every brush of his skin.
“No, you can’t lift me,” I weakly protest, but I loop my arms around his neck anyway. If I were in my right mind, I’d be in major panic mode at being lifted. “It’s against the rules!”
“What rules?” Connor asks, carrying me through the living room.
“The rules of being a fat person. Rule number one: always carry snacks. Rule number two: never let anyone lift you up! It’s all here in black and white,” I say, holding out an imaginary rule book.
“First of all, you idiot, you’re not fat, so the rules don’t apply to you. Second, I will take any excuse to hold you this close. If that means carrying you when you’re high on prescription medication, so be it.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet! See, I told you you were a peach.”
Connor chuckles to himself and starts to climb up the stairs. I’m just settling my head into his chest when I spot something on the wall.
“Stop!” I shout so suddenly Connor looks at me in panic.
“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I want to look at that picture.” I point towards my favourite picture on the wall, where Connor is looking off into the distance, smiling. My speech is definitely slowing down. It’s a battle to form each syllable.
“Why?” Connor asks, bemused.
“It’s my favourite. You look so happy.”
Connor doesn’t respond. He just strokes my back with his thumb as he holds me.
“Do you remember what you were looking at?” I ask.
“I do.”
