Aspiring Nobody

Chapter 18 Awkward situations

ERIN'S POV

Three hours later, after the doctor confirms my ankle is not broken or sprained, but just bruised and swollen, Styles helps me back to the car with a supportive arm. He's been so patient and attentive with me that I couldn't expect any more from him after sitting with me at the hospital for hours. I sneak a peek at him from my seat. "Would you mind taking me back to the dorm?"

He clips his seat belt in. "Nope, you're staying with me the night. You heard what the doctor said about resting your foot."

That takes me by surprise. "You want me to stay? Are you sure?"

He starts the car. "I wouldn't have said it otherwise."

As soon as we get back to his place, he carries me upstairs to the spare room. I could get used to him carrying me around; however, since I am not an Egyptian pharaoh, I will have to figure out how to walk on my own. He sets me down on the toilet seat and steps back, pushing his hands into his shorts pocket. I'm not sure what to say, and judging from his knotted brows, neither is he.

Ok, this feels weird.

"Crap, sorry. I should get something for you to wear, right?" He looks unsure of himself. "How about my robe?" He pulls a face. "Nah, you don't want my robe, do you? Is that too personal?"

I shrug. "I don't mind if you don't."

As soon as he leaves the room, I pull my damp tee shirt from my head and toss it on the floor. I can't believe how thoughtful he's been today. The nurse even thought we were a couple because of how tender he had been toward me. And for that one moment before Styles corrected her, it felt good to be thought of as his girlfriend.

Oh, God I sound pathetic. And worst of all, I'm so confused about what I'm feeling for him.

I pull myself up, shouldering the wall for support as I unfasten my jeans. With great difficulty and a lot of wriggling, I peel my jeans from my hips. Styles clears his throat, and my head snaps up to see him standing at the door with a charcoal robe in hand. If I weren't in desperate need of his help, I'd tell him to get out.

"Need a hand? I'm more than happy to get your pants down, Erin."

"Then please, help me get out of these, will you?"

He raises a brow as he comes towards me. "Talk about an awkward situation you've found yourself in."

"Trust me, I know."

 He squats at my feet, resting his hand on mine. "You ok?"

I shrug. " I guess."

His hand on mine feels more intimate than friendly gesture. Or, at least, that's how it feels to me; what he's feeling, though, I can't be sure? I can't even be sure he feels anything towards me, other than a desire for sex. He inspects my fat ankle against the skinny one. "Fuck! Your ankle is huge! I'm not even joking." 

"Yeah, well, how about we focus on getting my pants off."

He smirks. "Trust me, I am."

As he starts pulling my jeans down, my undies start going down with them. I grab them, but he looks up at me with a lopsided grin. "I've got this covered."

"Your hands are busy." I remind him. 

Once he gets my jeans off, he stands. Feeling over exposed, almost indecent, I place an arm across my chest, covering my simple bra as my breasts bulge ever so slightly from the cups. I feel self-conscious. Which is ridiculous when I show more flesh at the strip club? Then again, what happens at the club is impersonal, expected, and goes with the job. But here, with Styles, it seems too personal, too suggestive, and way too sensual for a virgin within arm's reach of a man she's trying so hard to resist. But to my complete surprise, he doesn't even look at me. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the ground as he turns away to give me some privacy.

"Thank you. I think I can manage now."

He nods. "I'll leave you to it. Just call out if you need me."

The moment Styles is pulling the door closed behind him, I let out a sigh. Talk about awkward. That could have gone bad, but he was a complete gentleman. I slip into his robe expecting to smell his cologne or at the very least his masculine, sleepy scent infused into the fabric like a sheet soaked in sweat, but the only scent to be detected is that of the woven cloth.

I tighten the waist belt before taking an uncomfortable hop to the door. Getting around on one leg is not so easy, especially without a pair of crutches. As I pull the door open, I am surprised to see him sitting at the foot of the bed.

"Thought I'd wait and see if you need a hand." He stands. "Since I'm here, I'll help you to bed."

My brow rises. "As long as you know you're not getting in with me?"

He pulls a face. "Please, I wouldn't get in with you now even with an invite."

Sometime later, after a long sleep, I limp along the second story landing, heading for the staircase. Thankfully, I experience no pain or discomfort, which means the pain killers are still working. Without realizing, I take the first step and my ankle gives way. I jerk forward; almost tumbling down the stairs, but stop myself by grabbing hold of the banister. I go into panic mode. "Ashley! Ashley, come quick!"

"Coming."

I hear him before I see him.

He charges into the foyer in nothing more than a pair of white board shorts. His facial expression goes from calm to fearful when he sees me hugging the banister. He bolts toward the staircase, taking the stairs three at a time and coming to a sudden stop before me, breathless and looking like a hot lifeguard as he pulls me into his arms. I almost sigh with relief. Yet being in his arms again, no matter how strong and comforting they are, is unnerving.

He carries me down the stairs, and I try to ignore that his naked flesh is against mine; well, not that I feel it in this rode, but just the idea of his bare anything near mine makes me swallow extra hard. My first impression of him was wrong, or maybe it was right, but now he's changed. Well, his attitude towards me has changed. He might come off arrogant, but beneath his hardness is a generous and compassionate man, and I'd be lying if I said I am not drawn to this new side of him.

He carries me to the lounge room/dining area, setting me down on the sofa. As much as I love his softer side, I prefer the old Styles; the impassive man. This new one is too tender, too... nice. I don't like the way it's making me feel. At least when he was aggressive, I couldn't stand him. Now I'm confused. "I should go back to uni."

He shuts the fridge door. "We've already gone over this, remember. You said you'd stay."

I scratch my forehead in confusion.

That's twice now I've given him the opportunity to be free of me and he hasn't jumped at it. Strange, considering a few days ago he wouldn't have hesitated casting me off like last night's dinner. Now he doesn't want me to go. Either he likes me more than he's letting on or he's scared I might claim workers' compensation? I run my hand through the end of my ponytail. "I know... but I think I should go."

With a deadpan expression, he walks towards me with a can of coke in each hand. "Why?" There's an intensity in his eyes now, as if he knows what's going through my head and he's wants me to be honest enough to say it. Oh, Jesus, why does he even care? The old Styles would have said "don't let the door hit your arse on the way out". I can't tell him the truth, that I've grown feelings for him. What the hell am I meant to do with these new feelings anyway, not when they're not reciprocated. "I don't want to burden you." My tone is soft and not in the least convincing.

He hands me a can of coke. "Bullshit, Erin. You're scared."

I am scared, but not of him. I'm scared of how my emotions have changed towards him, scared of being hurt again. And hanging around here with no real purpose is not helping the situation. "Of what?"

He sits on the coffee table and pops the cap back on the coke can. "Scared that what's going on between us might lead to sex."

I look down to my can of coke, hoping to hide the sudden burning in my cheeks. "I've never met anyone as straight forward as you before."

"Yeah, well, that's because you've probably never dealt with a man as direct and determined as me before."

My eyes shoot to his. "Sex. That's all you want from me, isn't it?"

He takes a mouthful of coke and then runs the back of his hand over his top lip. "Sometimes you look into things too much."