Welcome to the States, Good Girl (J and S sequel to Bad Boy's Broken Cinderella)

The Sleeping Bud Burst into Bloom

As I swallowed them down she went across the room and pulled out a first aid kit. "Nana, my hands are fine. You don't need to-"

I was cut off as she said dismissively, "Sit down on the counter." Obligingly, I eased my way onto the counter, careful to not my knuckles. Once I was situated, she took one of my hands in her own and unwrapped it. The bleeding had stopped and the blood was starting to dry on my skin.

"Sorry, this is going to hurt," she said, and began to slowly clear the blood with a antiseptic cloth. It stung quite a bit, but I bit my tongue.

After a long stretch of silent cleaning Savannah asked in her soft voice, "Do you want to explain why you showed up on my doorstep at one in the morning with a cop car?"

After I gave her a short, bland synopsis of what happened she stopped and looked up at me. Her blue eyes looked soft in the dim lighting and I noticed how the skin on her arms stood up in goosebumps from the chilly air conditioning.

She looked tired, due to it being one in the morning, but she also had the look she often gave me. It wasn't one of disgust of contempt. It wasn't a look of lust or want. It wasn't any of the looks I was used to. It was a look of someone who truly was trying to figure me. She was trying to see who I was.

She looked beautiful in that moment with the tired, sleepy look and my hand held softly betwen her own.

"Did you go get drunk because of our argument earlier?" she asked, still looking at me. I looked down at her small, soft hands wrapped around my own large, rough one. "I guess," I mumbled out.

"You know, I'm the one thing you don't have to be afraid of," she said her voice almost a whisper and I lifted my head to look into her eyes. She was looking me in the eyes again.

"You aren't as afraid of me either. You're looking me in the eyes for once," I said looking back at her. Her hands were warm around mine as she said, "Because I'm not afraid of what I or you will see in them right now."

Before I could say anything, she went back to my hand. I felt the urge several times to say or do something, but everytime a swell of fear pushed it back down.

Finally all I said was, "This is familiar. You cleaning up my blood from a fight I got in."

She smiled slightly and said softly, "Yeah, it is a bit like that night."

Once she had rewrapped both of my hands she said, "I'll find you something to wear." As she left the room I climbed off of the counter and followed her. She stopped in front of her dresser and stood there, biting her lip.

"What?" I asked as I watched her plump lips turn red. She turned to me and said, "I honestly don't think I own anything in this house that will fit you. I have no guy clothing."

I looked down at what I was wearing and found that I was still in my jeans and muscle tank that was now dotted with blood. "It's okay, I can sleep in this," I told her looking back up. 

She leaned forward and grabbed the edge of my shirt. I froze and was instantly very interested in how close to the lower part of my body her hand was. She was saying something, but I wasn't really listening until she looked up to me and said, "John?"

Blinking, I snapped out of my daze and asked hurriedly, "Sorry, what?" She gave me an odd look and said, "I asked you if you could take your shirt off so I can try and wash the blood out of it." 

"Oh, yeah, sure," I said quickly, and grabbed my shirt, pulling it off. I handed it to her and tried my hardest to not look fat.

I notice her eyes skim the tattoos on my chest as she took the shirt, but then she turned and walked to put the shirt in the washer downstairs.