Chapter 9: Watch What You Say
My stomach finally had the guts to stop whining at me after I devoured a sandwich or three. Now I was receiving a wide-eyed stare from Adrian as I completed my mid-afternoon snack with a giant glass of chocolate milk. Though there was a reason for him staring at me like that.
“I thought you were lactose intolerant,” he finally spoke up, having followed me from the living room; probably to make sure I didn't injure myself with any of the cooking utensils. Not that he would let me even use any...
I shrugged, gulping down the last of the delicious chocolate beverage, mildly disgusted by the feeling the drink left in my mouth, “Eh, I'll be fine,” I was indeed lactose intolerant, but it wasn't so bad that a glass of milk would incapacitate me, “Don't worry about it. You're not going to be the one sitting on the toilet clutching your stomach later, wondering why the hell you even thought about touching the glass.”
Occasionally, I had the urge to eat or drink things I shouldn't: like milk. If something had lactose in it, in high quantities, say Walnut Shrimp for example, I could expect to be sitting on the porcelain outer rim for, running back and forth between whatever I'm doing, and ungodly 'Oh Crap!' moments. There was probably a pill I could take to not suffer from such symptoms, but I was too lazy to go out and buy it.
Adrian face-palmed, pinching his nose and sighing exasperatedly, “You should have come with a warning label, ' Warning: Noxious Fumes, Do not approach from behind.' or something,” as if that were very funny.
Glaring at him, I made to clean up my mess, only to find that he had already started by taking my dishes from me and was cleaning them in the sink with a sponge and soap, “Stop stealing my chores,” I didn't really have a comeback for his poor taste in humor, so I acted as if he hadn't said anything at all.
Perhaps sensing that I had ignored his remark, he smiled and placed the dishes in the washer, “Sorry, not going to happen,” at least he's honest about it I suppose, “Until your limbs are all healed and the doctor says you can get your casts removed, consider me your willing servant. Within reason of course,” he added with a deep mocking bow.
Oh I feel ever so much better! “Yeah, I don't need a servant, jackass,” I bit, not quite gathering why his declaration made me angry. From what I could understand, just about everything about him ticked me off... so why were we supposedly friends?
“No, you need help, and you're not willing to admit it to yourself that you do,” now he was angry too, scowling and grabbing me around the waist to half-drag, half-carry me into the living room to force me to sit down on the couch, “I know you're proud of being able to take care of yourself, that's admirable Kathryne, but forcing yourself to do things while your injured will only make things worse,” his brows pushed together, and combined with the frown he was wearing, he looked incredibly concerned for my well-being.
It was.... how to put it... touching? Yes, that's the word I'm looking for, his words were touching. They made me feel all warm and tingly inside. I could feel some of that warmth rushing to my face, turning into a bright red blush, “I don't want to have other people do things for me,” I protested weakly; halfheartedly trying to make my point.
It had been so long since I had depended on others that I'd forgotten how. I wanted to do things myself, for myself, for no other reason than that I would gain something as a result. I didn't do things for other people, or took their wants into account when I did things. It was my way of protecting me from others; from getting too close to others.
Adrian sighed again, moving to sit next to me, looking me dead in the eyes, “I understand how you feel, but depending on another person doesn't make you weak. I won't ask for anything in return, if that makes you feel better,” which it didn't, because now I felt like I was taking advantage of his kindness.
I shook my head rapidly, breaking eye contact, trying to clear my head, “It makes me vulnerable though, and I don't want that,” I said bitterly. I got the feeling he would only keep trying to help me regardless of what I thought of his aid. Effectively, I would be getting his help whether I liked it or not.
He pulled me into his arms, hugging me to him tightly, leaving no room to try and escape his impromptu hug, “I won't take advantage of you Kathryne, I promise,” he whispered, his mouth right next to my left ear. I could feel his breath on my skin, “Please, just let me help you.”
Unsure of what to do, I hugged him back. Would trusting him not to hurt me really be so bad? I thought about it for a moment.
Was there any such thing as a heroine who had never once fought for her happiness? I could remain as I was, miserable and angry at the world, at everyone, standing alone and wanting nothing else but to go back to sleep and dream of a better existence, or I could trust this strange boy who seemed very insistent on getting along with me, and being my friend. I don't think he'd let me stay the same as I've always been.
Especially since it was beginning to seem as if I'd be stuck with him, regardless of whether or not he ever moved out. And secretly, I dreaded that day, even if it was only a week or two from now.
“Fine,” I mumbled into his shoulder, not caring if he heard me, “but don't you dare take advantage of me, else I'll kick your ass to hell and back, you got that?”
I didn't want to trust him, but I knew I did. What point was there in denying it? In the end, it was of more benefit for me to trust him. And if I did get hurt, well I'd deal with that when the time came.
Adrian chuckled softly, smoothing my hair back and refusing to release me from his hold, “Understood,” he answered, content to sit there with me in his arms.
However, I was not so content. The idea of sitting there for hours, simply being held, while very appealing, was too romantic for me to take. He wasn't my mother, or my father, so technically we'd be cuddling.
I don't cuddle. Period, end of story, “You can let me go now,” I could already feel my hackles rising as I sought to separate myself from him. He was too close, and even if I did like him well enough, I didn't want to spend too much time in his proximity. It might give other people ideas.
“Just because I can, doesn't mean I will,” and with that he yanked me into his lap and rotated my body so that my back was pressing up against his torso.
It was comfortable enough I supposed, but now I felt awkward. I couldn't look at him when I spoke to him, which I didn't like because I liked to see people when I spoke to them... most of the time.
What was with him and being so touchy-feely all of a sudden?! “Adrian, please let me go,” maybe a request would get him to let me get away from him. I didn't really want to argue with him anymore today, and in fact, I was kind of tired of it.
Maybe I'm a little bit squeamish about sitting on people's laps. Oh thank God I'm not a boy, otherwise I would probably have an erection right now... I was blushing that hard right now, and it didn't help that I was already embarrassed from having to admit that I just might need help to get around and through my everyday life.
Help that I usually didn't need because I'd never injured multiple limbs before.
At least they weren't permanently broken...
He didn't comply, instead choosing to bury his head in the hair that was close to my neck, I stiffened almost immediately, surprised, “I don't want to let you go, Kathryne,” his words were quiet, spoken low enough that I wasn't even sure I was supposed to hear them, “Something about you makes me want to hold you close and tell you that everything is going to be all right, that you'll be okay,” he murmured, stroking my hair again, before finally letting me free of his arms.
Turning back to look at him, what I saw made me feel either slightly panicky or just very flattered. I couldn't tell which. This was due to the fact that I hadn't felt either in years, that and they were both very closely related for me. If he could flatter me, then he could get close to me, and if he got too close...
I wanted to run and hide, but running wasn't exactly a viable option right now. I was still blushing when I forced myself to look away from the gentle stare he was currently giving me, “Will you help me back upstairs to my room?” I asked hesitantly; I couldn't exactly handle stairs very well at the moment, and I didn't much care for having to crawl to get up them.
He smiled and got up, pulling my arm around his neck and placing one of his around my waist, “Of course I will,” he said pleasantly, blue eyes twinkling with good humor as he half-carried, half-guided me back to my room.
Once I was finally sitting upright on my bed, and he leaving my doorway, I decided that having him help me wasn't half-bad after all, “Thank you, Adrian,” gratitude was free after all, and it wasn't like he didn't deserve it.
He turned his head enough so that I could see him smiling, he chuckled a little before replying, “You’re welcome, Kathryne.”
Why was it, that every time he said my name, I felt just a little bit more special? I wasn’t special, and I knew this, yet I wanted to believe that I was special anyway.
After he finally left, I allowed myself a small smile. For once, it wasn’t forced.
Hehe, tingly.