Unedited! (You've been warned!)
***
I was done using the restroom and was currently sitting on top of the toilet seat cover. As of that moment I was realizing that it was a huge mistake to run to the bathroom earlier due to the fact that all of yesterday’s events were taking a huge toll on my body now. At first, I think I didn’t feel all the pain because of the blissfulness of waking up next to Bryson, but now ... now that I was alone and in the small bathroom it all was hitting me like a ton of bricks.
My body was aching, fingers throbbing and I now had zero energy to leave this restroom.
With a turn of my sore neck I looked at the white wooden door. I had to have been in here for a good thirty minutes. I knew I need to leave this room, yet like attempted a few minutes ago, I couldn’t. All I was able to a few moments ago was stand, pull up my pants and flush the toilet before I felt myself go weak. So, I immediately closed the toilet seat and sat down on the cover, which led me to be in the position I was in now.
Sighing, I glanced down at my left hand. The top of my hand was a sickening green and purple color. As for my fingers, I tried to move them and while that action was painful, I was pleased that they moved. The movement gave me hope that they weren’t broken. However, I knew I wouldn’t know until I got an X-Ray to see if any, especially my index finger, were in fact broken.
“Elle ... Is everything okay?” Bryson asked from the other side of the door.
A tear escaped my right eye as I felt so vulnerable and needy because I really was not wanting to admit to Bryson that as of that moment I was in so much pain that I couldn’t get up. Yet, I knew if I didn’t say anything and get his help, I wouldn’t be able leave this room for hours. “Bryson? ... I can’t ... I can’t move...” I confessed as I swallowed my pride.
Turning the brass door knob, Bryson opened the door and looked directly at me.
By now tears were rushing down my, without a doubt, red cheeks. “It hurts,” I truthfully spoke. “Everything hurts...”
Walking in, Bryson moved a little pass me without saying a single word. Bending down, he turned on the bath tub and placed a plastic stopper in the drain. Twisting around, he went over to a cabinet below the bathroom sink.
I watched as he opened the cabinet door, leaned in and pulled out a box. Studying the box for a second I saw that it was Epsom Salt, which I knew was used in baths for relaxation. However, I also knew it could be used to treat aches and bruises because Peter would get minor injuries like that after a football match when he was in middle school and mom would make him take an Epsom Salt filled bath, knowing he would feel better afterwards.
After putting about two cups of the salt in the bath, Bryson closed the box, placed it back under the cabinet and closed the door to the cabinet.
“Do you like the smell of lavender or are you more of a citrus person?” Bryson questioned as he walked out of the room.
Looking at his retreating figure I wondered where he was going. Yet, all curiosity ceased when I saw him go into his bedroom. “Uhhh, lavender,” I called out, hoping he heard me.
Seconds later Bryson came out of his room holding a plastic bottle that had some kind of purple liquid. I raised an eyebrow in curiosity at what he had in hand. “What is that?” I inquired as he strolled back in the bathroom.
Twisting the black top of the bottle he had, Bryson replied, “some bubble bath stuff ... I bought a few items I figured you would want later on down the road after coming home from the hospital. Just remembered a few seconds ago that I had them...”
Smiling, I thought, once again, how kind Bryson was. It was really nice that he thought about me and bought me some bubble bath soap. “Thank you,” I muttered as he started to pour a generous amount of the soap in the white porcelain tub that was increasing with water by the second.
Bryson shrugged his shoulders in response before halting his actions of pouring the soap in the tub. Putting back on the top, Bryson proceeded to place the bubble bath soap under the bathroom sink. “I’ll be right back,” he told me.
Sitting there, I saw him go off into the living room. Once his figure was out of sight, I couldn’t help but look at the foaming up tub. A grin found its way onto my face, I was really lucky to have Bryson ... now if only I could get my memory back of us...
“My mother used to love taking baths,” Bryson stated out of nowhere.
I jumped a little in my seat and grasped my chest in shock of how he came out of nowhere. Yet, the second I did my involuntary actions I felt pain erupt throughout my body in a violent wave. Biting my tongue, I decided not to voice my aches and pains.
“When she took them,” Bryson informed me as he flicked on a lighter in his right hand. “She’d always have candles going. If candles were not lit and the lights of the bathroom weren’t off, she would refuse to take a bath.” With that said he lit a candle and placed it on the thick rim of the bathroom sink. “I would light more, but this seems to be the only candle I own,” he said with a small smile.
“Bryson, I really am not picky when it comes to taking a bath ... but ... thank you,” I told him.
Turning off the bath water, Bryson sighed. “It is no problem. I can only imagine how sore you are due to last night ... Uhhh ... I-I guess I will just go and let you take your bath...” Facing the door, Bryson began to walk out of the room.
“Wait! Bryson!”
Immediately turning on his heel, Bryson looked at me. “Yeah?”
“Uhhh, I really hate to ask … because you have done a lot for me ... but ... can you ... can you take off my shoes for me? It really hurts to bend down.” I shyly asked him.
Without a second’s notice Bryson was sitting in front of me and was untying laces of my tennis shoes.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out as I thought about all I’ve put Bryson through in the course of the past few days.
Bryson stopped what he was doing and looked at me with an arched eyebrow. “Why are you sorry?”
“I -- I’m sorry that you have to do this ... My father --- well, the father that I knew when I was thirteen --- taught me to not depend on others. Yet, here I am and if it is not my memory that I need help with its help taking off my own damn shoes. I feel very so dependent on you ... and honestly it irks me ... I like fending for myself ... not saying I don’t appreciate your help ... but I just hate putting you out of your way and making you assist me so much...”
Looking at me like I was a noodle shy of an Italian dinner, Bryson rolled his green eyes. “Elle, you have no reason to say you're sorry or even to thank me. I-I am glad I can help you,” he stated the last part with a lowered voice as he resumed taking off my shoes.
Once my shoes were off, I gave Bryson a wide grin.
Bryson outreached his right hand and as I saw it come closer and closer to my face, I found myself flinching back. “I’m not going to hurt you,” Bryson stated with humor leaking in his voice.
I knew he thought my action was silly and honestly as I sat there I knew he wasn’t going to ever hurt me. “I know. I didn’t mean to flinch but I didn’t know what you were doing,” I admitted.
Bryson choose not to reply and instead he lightly touched my right temple. His gentle action made me jerk back, not because I didn’t know what he was doing but for the fact that it slightly hurt where he touched. “Sorry,” he mumbled and dropped his hand. “I guess it looks as bad as it hurts..."
I wondered what he meant. “What do you mean? Is there something on my face?” I started to get up but Bryson placed his hand on my leg in order to stopping me.
“Stop, it is just a bruise on the side of your face. It will go away.” He exclaimed with clear hope to get me seated back down.
My body listened to him and I sat back down on the toilet cover. “I have to go to a funeral today,” I said out loud, “but I bet I look like something that came out of ‘Frankenstein’ the movie.”
Bryson chuckled, “Elle, I’m sure the people at the funeral will not be looking at you and gossiping about how you have a tiny bruise on the side of your face.”
He was right. People at this function will not give a flying-hoo-haa about what I looked like. “You’re totally right … Thank you.”
Bryson grasped my face, gently, with the palms of his hands. “Elle, what did I say about thanking me? I don’t want to hear it.”
His face was mere centimeters from mine and I could smell the scent of cinnamon that was pouring out of his mouth as he breathed out.
Finding myself lost in his eyes, I noticed that he had a real interesting palette of different shades of green, all swirling together to make up his iris.
My body, at first unintentionally, started to lean forward. Yet, soon I realized I was leaning forward because I wanted nothing more than to close the distance between us. I wanted -- needed -- to feel his lips on mine more than anything.
The seconds it took my lips to find his, felt like a lifetime. However, when they did meet and tenderly touch one another every part of my body lit up. Tingles of pure joy started to take over every inch of my body, reaching from the tips of my toes to the very top of my head. The indescribable feelings exploding inside of me brought warmth and delight as our lips conformed and moved in perfect harmony.
Elle you don’t know him! You have no memory of him. What if he is lying? What if he-
My inner voice was getting on my nerves so I suppressed my thoughts and roped my hands around Bryson’s neck while telling myself I knew exactly who Bryson was ... my fiancé ... the guy I liked ... and the guy I am kissing like there is no tomorrow...
Yet, of course something had ruin my moment, little did I presume that something to be Bryson.
Pulling away from me, Bryson stared at me with complete and utter ... horror?
It took Bryson a minute to drop the expression he had planted across his face. “Ummm,” he mumbled out as he blinked for the first time in a good minute. “We - we have to leave here for the funeral in two-two hours.” With that said Bryson stood up abruptly. Saying nothing more to me Bryson stormed out of the room with an angered expression.
I closed my eyes as the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut filled my ears.
It was then that I wallowed in guilt and shame at what I had done … I had kissed Bryson Wyatt...