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Catherine

"Aaw. Can you at least try to pretend that you're not mad at me?" I scoffed, trying my hardest not to jam the cotton ball on his arm.

"I'm not mad at you." He pouted and I just had to apply a tinsy winsy bit of pressure, he closed his eyes. It's a manly way of showing it hurts.

"Squirming cars again?" continuing to dab at the offensive marks. He shook his head as I blew on his wound, laughing a little for seeing me pouting as I did so.

"The ones trying to steal the cars then?" a shadow of a smile appeared on his face as I handed him the cotton before I reached out for the gauze. The man goes out during the early hours of the morning and comes back injured. The wounds weren't so bad but still, I just had to apply first aid. He put on a fight of course, telling me it would heal like the last time but I was having none of it.

When I turned to face him, he had this odd expression on his face.

Like he was worried and angry at the same time. I was supposed to be the one giving him that look since he got me angry for cooking without an apron and worried that he might have rabies or any disease you might get judging from all the claw marks on his chest. I'm going to make him clean that part himself. I'm not going to touch him there. Yes I know the chest isn't a big deal because well, it wasn't of any importance on boy parts. Imagine tripping and holding on to a man's chest. That wouldn't be so offending. They'll love it. Now imagine if a man tripped and did the same to a woman. I'm not saying I'm treating him like a woman. It's just that I always have to think before I act around because I don't want to make my gestures intimate. Maybe I'm just over thinking. Stahp over thinking Catherine.

"Come here..." I frowned as he held out his hand. Oookay. I'm like two steps away. But I took it and he gently pulled me towards him. I pretty much prefer when we're arguing because during those times, I would know what to do and what to say. But what exactly do you do when a guy pulls you in for a hug.

Wait.

He's hugging me.

This is awkward. Help. What do I do.

I cleared my throat just as he held out a finger. "Let me cover up your wound." still, he didn't move. I put down the gauze knowing all too well that he'll be stubborn about it. He just looked at me and I felt his other hand gently touching my cheek. What did I do wrong? Was I in trouble? Is it my time now? His face was void of any emotion. Of course that was until his hand lowered down to move the strands of hair away from my neck.

"Where'd you get these?" He placed a hand on my waist when I tried to move back, confused on how angry he was. I can feel every single one of his fingers touching my skin.

Gently, he skimmed his fingers on the side of my neck and I winced from the pain the moment it made contact with my flesh. I raised my hand to touch it but I felt his hand instead. Withdrawing mine a little too quickly, I held him by the wrist and pulled his hand away from my neck. His other hand was still on my waist, not wanting me to move as I touched my neck with the tip of my fingers and surely, there was the pain again. It was his turn to pull my hand away, applying slight pressure on my waist so I would move closer. I was trying not to laugh. Because it tickles. Not a good time to snort. There's also the fact that I always complained about guys trying to get in between my legs yet here I am, in between Damon's legs.

He made me tilt my neck and for some reason, I didn't even feel like arguing. So I did like I was told and waited. Waited for him to get a cotton ball and perhaps clean me up. Something. Anything. I closed my eyes as his fingers left my neck.

It took me about five seconds to realize that he wasn't going to apply first-aid. I'm pretty sure he wasn't planning on cleaning it either.

If it wasn't for the feeling of something warm fanning down my neck, I wouldn't have opened my eyes.

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