Painless

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

“It looks like you were mauled by an angry kitten,” Benji said, making a face at me.

            We were back at the hotel and Benji wouldn’t stop fussing over my injuries. The ten minute stomp home had been plenty of time for my anger to build up and by the time I’d crashed through the door I was fuming. Who did Agent Carson think he was, anyway? King of the world? I think not! King of douche-baggery, maybe. Besides, hadn’t we had the same training? I think I’d more than proven I could handle myself in a fair fight, and the last thing I needed was a man trying to take care of me.

            When I was worked up like this, my favorite release was usually to punch something. But the only person within an arms length was Benji, and that would be like kicking a puppy. You just didn’t do it. My second go-to stress-reliever was a little more on the physical side…and usually came in the form of a good-looking guy. But again, the only person in the vicinity was Benji.

Don’t get me wrong. I definitely thought about it. For about half a second, but realized that while I never felt guilty for hooking up and then taking off, Benji wasn’t the type to feel the same way. Sex probably meant something to him. I’d even bet he was still a virgin. And if I was afraid of destroying him by just being his friend, imagine the damage I’d do if I was more than that.

So, I found myself wound up with no outlet, which is sort of like when you need to sneeze and someone says “Bless You” before you can get it out, and then it gets stuck up in your head. It’s absolutely excruciating, but there’s nothing you can do except try to ignore it until it goes away. Of course, this was nearly impossible given that Benji was all up in my space and giving me the third degree about where I’d been.

            “Gee, thanks, Benji. You sure know how to give a girl a compliment,” I said dryly, crossing the room and sitting down on one of the hotel beds. I pulled my shoes off and let them fall to the floor with a thud.

Benji frowned.

            “Sorry. I just meant…you don’t look so good.” This only earned him another glare from me. “Okay. Let me try this again. How did you get hurt and is there anything I can do?”

            I tried to ignore the fact that he sounded genuinely concerned, but it was hard to do. And when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he really was worried. I wasn’t used to anyone besides my parents being uneasy about my choice of extracurricular activities. To be honest, the focus on me made me uncomfortable.

            “Some guy in a hoodie jumped me while I was taking a walk around the block,” I explained, as I got up to survey the damage in the mirror. Damn. There was another gash, this time on my hand. Guess it was my blood I’d felt before. “And you can help, actually. Grab my makeup bag over there on the counter?”

            Benji did what I asked and joined me on the bed.

            “I know I said I’d help Blister, but I’m not so good with an eyelash curler. They look like mini torture devices,” Benji said jokingly as he opened and closed the contraption. He placed my black and white bag on the bed next to me and watched as I opened it up and pulled out a surgical needle and thread. I took a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and doused a cotton ball. Handing it over to Benji, I lay back down on the bed and held my hand up in the air in front of him.

            “So, help,” I said.

            “With what? Cleaning this up? And then what? You should probably go to the doctors or something, Bliss. This looks pretty bad.” His brows furrowed as he examined the fresh wound across my knuckles.