Thorns

21 - Rai

She threw down a lamp when she opened her arms, and I cursed. She laughed again, leanin' against the yellow wall of the tight hallway under the stairs.

"Chica, you're crazy" I groaned, holdin' her again.

"Hum..." She chuckled, a deep sound from her throat "I'm crazy about you."

"Whitney..." I muttered, babbling really "You're wasted."

"You're just so... so!" She sighed, her long fingers caressing my hair; I actually shivered all the way down to my toes.

"Chica, you're drunk, you don't know what you're doing" I stammered.

Her lips came down to mine, crushing them really. I jolted, holding her at bay. Dios mio, I'd dreamed about kissing this girl a million times, but not like this; never like this.

"You need to stop," I told her, pushing her away against the wall.

"I'm gonna be sick," She said, her face suddenly pale.

"Fuck" I grunted and helped her go to the nearest bathroom, about ten feet away.

I kicked the door open and let her fall on her knees at the toilet. She threw up for a while, and I held her soft hair. God... it was so soft...! So long and wavy... thick... And the back of her neck, so damn temptin'. Especially now, that those words are marked there, and with her back bare... She's gorgeous. A beautiful, funny, crazy, hot-tempered and sweet woman, at my feet, feelin' sick.

"You need to eat." I muttered, gatherin' a few towels and makin' sure her head rested next to the toilet, and her back was supported by the white tub "I'll be here in a minute. Don't fall asleep or I'll slap you."

She chuckled a little and I ran to the kitchen. Portia was there, also drunk and laughin' with Ian and another guy.

"Hey! It's the Latino!" She laughed and held me tight "Can't believe you screwed the date with Whit! You stupid idiot!"

"Yeah... look, I gotta go" I mumbled, gatherin' some food.

"Where are you going?!" She wanted to know, still laughin'.

"Whitney's drunk, so... yeah..."

"She has to eat." Portia's eyes were suddenly focused, and she stared at me with worry "Make sure she eats and drinks lots of water. Measure her glucose. Here." She grabbed Whitney's black shiny clutch "If it's too high, don't worry. It's low that's dangerous."

"How do I know... what's low?"

"Under seventy is low. Make her eat, wait a bit and measure again. Don't inject her with anything until you're sure."

"Right" I nodded; I had no fuckin' clue what the hell she meant!

I ran to the bathroom and Whitney is throwin' up again. She moaned, looking miserable. I got her hand, pinched her finger, and did as I saw her do twice before. The reader said it was around a hundred. That's good... right? Damn it! I don't get any of this shit! Need my phone, do some quick research on the web – someone would know, right?

"Whitney? Hey... Are you listenin' to me?"

"What?" She moaned, looking up at me; damn, she looked so dreadful.

"It's a hundred ok?" I asked her, showin' her reader.

"Like I care..." She whispered, and then started to cry "I don't care... I don't care! Please... don't want to do it anymore...!"

Oh shit! What do I do?! Fuck! What's a guy supposed to do when a girl starts cryin' at his feet?!

"Hey... C'mon, Whitney... It's ok..." I mumbled, my hand movin' up and down her back, tryin' to comfort her "Hundred is ok, right? And you're ok..."

"I look like a baby!" She cried, lookin' straight at me "It's a fucking prison! I can't do anything! I can't go anywhere, 'cause God forbid for Whitney to have a low sugar count! Fuck this! I'm tired! I'm so tired..."

I sat next to her, my back to the tub, and just let her lay her head on my lap.

"It's ok." I assured her, smoothin' her hair on my lap, holdin' her hand, while her sobs made my gut tight "You can cry. It's ok."

"You think I'm weak, now." She moaned, lookin' up at me "Don't you?"

"Not a chance." I assured her, smoothin' the hair from her forehead "Never. You're an Amazon, mamacita. A tough weed."

"I'm crying..."

"You know, I heard once that cryin' ain't a sign of weakness, but one of bein' strong for too long." I whispered, and bow to kiss her forehead "You can be strong tomorrow."

She burst into cry again, getting' up and curlin' her arms around my torso. Her head rested on my shoulder, and I just held her, whisperin' soothin' words as her sobs ceased. And then she fell asleep in my arms.