Page 93 of David

Julie has always had this unexplainable effect on me.

LIZ

Sunday around noon

Sunlight hits me at an angle, and my headache only gets worse.

I whip angry eyes at the shades I left open last night, and I close them just as quickly.

What a horrible migraine.

Rolling to my side to turn my back to the window, I learn that my bones hurt like hell.

Argh.

The pain is real.

I fall back.

My shoulders are pressed into the mattress, my head is tipped back, and my eyes are shut, and even so, the sun dilutes the darkness behind my eyelids.

Things don’t improve, so I have to shut the blinds.There’s no way around it.

Eyes closed, butt naked, I crawl out of bed and head to the window, feeling my way around, bumping into the furniture.

“Here. I got you…” I murmur, shutting them.

My room is finally dark, just the way I like it.

I totter to the bed and almost slide between the sheets when my phone rings in the other room.

Head in a fog, I groan, pick up a sheet, and clumsily wrap it around me before stumbling my way to the living room.

I made some poor decisions last night.

Leaving my phone in the other room.

And the shades open.

And then… Oh. David.

If my headache was prickling at my skull moments ago, now it feels like a jackhammer.

David.

David Moore.

The pain in my body.

My sore muscles.

And that ending when he watched me with growing satisfaction, his lips arched into a smile as he pulled up and fixed his pants.

Without a word, he walked into the kitchen, let the water run, and cleaned his pants with his hands.

Once he had no stains on them, he turned to me and asked me if I was okay.

I nodded.

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