When A Playboy Loves

|| 10.

Utianle

Cool air settled on my skin, causing me to shiver slightly. I pulled the thick blanket up to my chin, sighing in contentment when I rolled on my stomach. My head sank further into the pillow, enjoying the softness until my brain registered its unfamiliarity.

I bolted out of the bed, the sight of the overhead circular fluorescent lamps disorienting me further. My confusion heightened when I noticed the strange air conditioner on the wall and the curtains that had been replaced by window blinds.

This was not my room.

Those words must have activated my memory because the events of last night came rushing back to me.

Let me take care of you.

Instinctively, my gaze descended on the bed where a sleeping King lay in the same outfit from yesterday and I felt a small tug at my heartstrings. Shaking my head free of this strange feeling, I reached for my backpack, tiptoeing all the way to the bathroom.

After flipping the light switch on, my eyes grew the size of saucers when they landed on the unmistakable red stain -that was the size of a newborn fist- adorning the front of my nightgown. And I groaned inwardly, the stickiness in between my legs suddenly explained.

"Why?" I asked my reflection in the mirror; my period wasn't due until two days' time.

My fingers searched for the emergency sanitary pads I always carried about for moments like this and I wondered for the millionth time why the female species had to go through this torturous monthly ritual just for our bodies to prove we weren't pregnant.

Shrugging out of my nightwear, I placed all my belongings on the toilet seat, my heart thumping wildly as my search came up empty. Still in disbelief, I sieved through my stuff a second time, a noiseless scream escaping my lips when the severity of my situation finally sunk in.

"Uti, is everything okay?" King's voice was muffled but I could still hear it; his question was followed by a series of knocks and then silence.

Embarrassment clawed at my throat, stealing the words I should have said. I shook my head, forgetting that he couldn't see me, at the same time trying to summon the courage to voice out my needs.

The shuffling of feet behind the door grabbed my attention, then the knocks resumed; the next voice I heard wasn't King's. "Utianle, open the door."

Grabbing the towel nearest to me, I wrapped it around myself hastily, reaching for the lock on the wooden door. Mrs. Daniels poked her head in, eyeing me warily before pushing the door wider.

She locked the door behind her, watching me twiddle my fingers without saying a word. With a heavy sigh and like a teenager forced to apologize to her bullies, she asked, "what is the problem?"

"I need sanitary pad," I whispered.

When her eyes trailed to the gown I tossed carelessly on the ground, I shrunk internally, feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The disappointment was barely concealed in those orbs that were the same colour as her son's. Her fingers set to work typing on her phone and my shoulders sagged in relief when she didn't offer me a snide remark.

Someone knocked gently on the door and she unlocked it, collecting the pad from the hand that stretched inside. I caught a glimpse of the back of Helena's head as she shuffled out of the room with her signature crop top, noting King's absence in his massive bedroom.

Surprisingly, Mrs. Daniels's face bore no judgement when she handed it over to me and for a second, I was overcome with the urge to wrap my arms around her.