Entitled . HS

SEVENTEEN. *

We went to the appointment and I came out with a hot pink walking cast. I let Harris choose the color and I was actually surprised when he picked hot pink, but I'm guessing he did so because it seemed like the last color I would have chosen, which was true. I was hoping for yellow.

"Being a New Yorker myself, I assume that you do a lot of walking. Though this is a walking cast, I would like you to stay off it as much as possible for the first seven days. Then, gradually work up to your typical activity level. No strenuous exercise until after the cast is removed, but just your daily walking." I nodded and probably rolled my eyes, too, because I have a terrible habit of doing so. "Do you have someone to help you with running errands and such?" he asked me.

Harris spoke up. "She is staying with me for the time being," that was news to me. "We work in the same office building, so I can drive her to and from work."

"Good. You will likely need someone to help with portions of getting ready and showering. That can be challenging on one leg. I often suggest some sort of plastic stool or taking baths for the time being, if possible." I watched Harris taking mental notes. "At the very least, it would need to be covered in plastic."

"After the first week, can I return to my walk-up, as long as I am not walking to the train for work?" I asked him because I was NOT going to stay with Harris for the entire six weeks I had the damn cast on. Not when I was being told that I could resume my daily activities after the first seven days (which was already going to push me to my limits as far as time with Harris was concerned).

"Yes. That should be fine," he replied. Once the doctor was assured that I would have the help necessary to get through the next six weeks, he signed off on my return to work and we left the office- WITHOUT my fucking crutches. THANK GOD!

Even with everything that happened, I had only missed Monday morning from work to get the cast on (thanks to the Thanksgiving break over last week). It had only been two weeks since I was at Sinclair, but it was strange to be back. The office seemed different. Or, perhaps it was that everything between Harris and I was now different. Whatever it was, Monday was a weird day, but thankfully it was a short day.

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I had lied to dad, Dillon and Levi, telling them that I was staying at Guin and Lawson's place because it was closer to work, when really I was staying blocks away with Harris. As much as I hated to admit it, I needed help with things. Showering was still a whole fiasco, trying to keep the cast dry and outside the shower while I washed my body off became a sport I was no good at. So, over the last few days, Harris had taken to running me baths in his old claw-foot tub. He'd even ordered one of the racks like Guin had so that I could rest my foot on it.

Things were strangely domestic and, to be honest, it was making my skin crawl a bit. He was buying us groceries, making us breakfast, driving me to work, being overly kind to me at work. Then, the day ended with everything in reverse. It was all too much. As each day passed, it bothered me a little bit more. Then, when I got my period and I could no longer work through my frustrations with him using my preferred methods in bed, I broke the news to him that I was going to go home.

"Why?"

"Because I'm about to get really fucking nasty. I'm a person that needs my space, Harris. It's not like I have to go up any more stairs to get to my apartment than I have to to get to yours, and I am able to shower myself, or I have Dillon to help."

"But you're not alone there."

"I can tell my family to fuck off and they wont take offense. And Dillon is out all weekend."

"You can tell me to fuck off," he tried to defend.

I don't even argue, instead I restate my plans. "We work together all day, then we hang out all night, and if I stay much longer I am going to start hating you again and I don't want to do that. YOU don't want me to do that."