In Love and Diplomacy

Chapter Twenty-Five: A Body on the Floor

I took long, deep breaths. Fatigue still wrapped around me, urging me to lie back down, but I gathered every ounce of stamina I could muster. My wobbly arms shook as they pushed me up, and blood rushed to every purple mark my tumble had left behind. When I finally sat up, I stared ruefully at the useless lump of limb on the pillow before me. Something or other was torn in the mottled knee, twisted and ripped when it'd caught beneath me on the dive. I couldn't remember the exact diagnosis. I was sure Reed knew, but I didn't know if it actually mattered. A bleak-sounding label for the agony did me little good.

With one hand steadying my leg and the other gripping the pillow, I started to pull it out. My teeth groaned under the pressure of my clenched jaw. With a similar resignment as ripping off a Band-Aid, I tugged the pillow out from under my leg.

Next, I tried to keep my muscles relaxed, instead using my arms to slide the leg off the bed. My knee was kept straight. When both feet touched the ground, I was as ready as I was going to get. With another deep breath, I put all my weight on my good leg and heaved myself up.

I stood still. My worn-out muscles whined, but the pain was manageable. A quick peek at the corner told me I'd been successful in more ways than one; Reed was still asleep.

Step one completed. Step two, here we go.

I took a little hop forward. My injured leg was dead weight, it couldn't support me without pain I wished to avoid. My lurches were abrupt and ungraceful, but I forced myself to move across the room, heading away from Reed and towards the bathroom. I focused on staying as silent and relaxed as possible. Eventually, I reached the other side of the bed.

I'm doing it! That's right, I'm a strong, independent woman who don't need no ma-THUMP.

With a muffled yelp, my leg gave out, and I faceplanted onto the ground. My groan was silent, and my pride was destroyed, but I forced myself to lie still. I strained my ears for any sound indicating I'd woken him up. The last thing I wanted was to disrupt him or be seen on the floor.

Oh, you have an order of wants? Where does he fall on that list?

I ignored my snide internal voice as I laid waiting. When I was satisfied he was still sleeping, I placed my palms on the floor to push myself up. I shuddered at the feel of gross carpeting but forced myself to disregard my disgust and roll over.

Reed's face stared down at me.

He towered where he stood at the end of the bed, and I gasped, landing with a thud on my back. I cursed the jolt that reverberated up my knee to my spine.

"What are you doing on the floor?" Reed asked in just woken up bewilderment, blinking down at me.

I pushed myself up with my elbows and quickly took in this new angle. His hair was deliciously tousled. His eyes were snapping into alertness, and his hands rested on his hips. His jaw was shaded with shadow. A bright red mark was pressed onto his forehead from where he'd propped his head up, but it only added a dash of adorableness to the look. His shirt was unbuttoned to show his undershirt, and he was wrinkled and pressed in a way that suggested he'd spent his night very differently than the truth.

Delicious. Looking fresh out of the sheets and he didn't even sleep in them.

Even looking exhausted, he was handsome. It was wholly unfair to every other man in the world.

"I'm... er, looking for something."

His brow rose. "Right. And to find it, you have to fall to the floor like you've been drinking?"

"It's five o'clock somewhere, isn't it?"

Amusement shone in his eyes as he stepped forward and offered his hand.