Sugar Rush

28- Fancy Feeling Like A Rapist

28

By ten in the evening Blake was feeling much better. Well he hasn’t been sneezing and coughing for the past three hours so I believe that’s a sign of getting better. I have been stuffing his face with porridge, and soup and Tylenol- maybe ‘stuffing his face’ isn’t the right term. It sounds like I have him overdosed on the product.

He’s temperature has lowered to normal, unlike earlier when I arrived when he was burning up. He didn’t look so tired and swollen anymore. He looked like the normal Blake and I had fallen in love with except that the messy clothes and hair makes him look ten times hotter.

Right now we were in the kitchen. He’s making hot chocolate and I have my ears glued to the microwave waiting for the popping sounds to stop. Officially we declared about five minutes ago that tonight was going to be a movie night.

Since I had brought up Robert Downey Jr. earlier while we were watching Safe Haven, and since we already watched the chick flick portion of the night, Blake announced we were having a Marvel Marathon starting from the one and only Iron Man.

A few minutes later we were on his couch, our feet propped up on the couch under the warm fluffy blankets with a humungous bowl of popcorn as we watched t film.

“Say ‘ah’” he said as he took a piece of the popcorn in between his thumb and index finger.

“Ah.” I opened my mouth so that he could toss it like shooting a basketball but instead he smirked and just popped it in his mouth leaving me to look like a fish. Grabbing the pillow beside me, I hurled it towards the laughing Blake who dodged out of the way with ease. “That was mean!”

“You should’ve seen your face!” he exclaimed in between laughs.

I frowned. “You not supposed to be eating popcorn. You’re sick. Your cough’s going to come back.”

He stuck his tongue out. “I’m all better now. But I would feel a lot better if you’re going to give me a sponge bath.”

“In your dreams.” I rolled my eyes and smacked his arm lightly. I do not want to injure the man who was burning up a mere few hours ago.

“Please?” he pouted. “Please?”

I diverted my attention back to the good looking Robert Downey Jr. on the screen to avoid his intensely cute face. “No.”

“A cake?”

“No.”

“Please?”

I turned to face him and he was still pouting, grabbing my arm like a little kid would do when they wanted to bug their parents. “You’re going to get sick again.”

“Cupcake?”

“Blake.” I stated, glaring at him. “No. You’re already eating popcorn and drinking hot chocolate. Now let’s watch the movie.”

He finally settled down and shifted in his position and released one of his hands from my arm. A few minutes in, his hand that was on my arm slowly lowered down, inch by inch, until he reached my hands.

This time, I didn’t pull away. I let his fingers interlock with mine as we continue to silently watch the move.

A small smile crawled up to my lips and I had to bite down the urge to jump on the couch and scream like the girl I am. I could scream the place down but let’s not do that. I still want to hold his hand.

The pads of his fingers slowly rubbed small circles on my knuckles. We were both watching the movie, but the inevitable smile that we had on display was proof enough that we really weren’t concentrating on it too much. We were both too absorbed at the person beside us.