Page 6 of Lost Love Found

“Uh huh… Hold still, would ya?”

“OK. How’s that going for you, squinty?” Another nickname. Another belly somersault. I inhale a deep, quick breath. Settle the fuck down, Elaina.

There’s silence for several seconds in the room until finally, he says, “Lay your head back. You need to put these eye drops in, right? And I don’t think your shirt needs any more lubrication tonight.”

Cheese on rice. Did he just say lubrication? And why does that do weird things to my insides? What’s in the pain meds that the surgeon gave me?

“Oh, it’s OK. You don’t have to,” I say, flustered and a little dizzy from trying to see his face. Not because of his face, but because my vision is blurry, and trying to see feels pretty fucking terrible right now.

“Come on. Put your head back. I won't hurt you. I promise.” His voice and his words set off a whole world of feelings inside my body. Tingles in my arms and fingertips. A sudden weight in the pit of my stomach. Why do I believe him when I don’t even know him?

He urges my forehead down gently with his fingertips and I let him. And now he’s moving again. I’m assuming he’s kneeling on the couch so he can see where the drops will go. He brushes some stray hairs off of my face and I move my head towards where I think his face is.

“Hold still, would ya?” He mimics my phrase from moments ago and it makes me smile. I can feel his breath on my cheeks. It smells faintly of alcohol and mint. I swallow and keep my head as still as possible. He puts two drops into each eye, his free hand holding the side of my face tenderly. And when some of the solution drips down my face, he catches it with his thumb, running it across my cheek. I flinch at the intimacy of his touch.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” He almost whispers the last sentence. I hear him place the bottle on the table and he moves to get up from the couch. I reach out my hand, hoping it doesn’t fall anywhere inappropriate.

“No, it’s OK.” Thankfully, my hand lands on his forearm. His very muscled, very hard forearm. Not the time, you hussy! “Thank you for helping me today, Adam. You don’t even know me, and you’ve been very kind to me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Lainey. It was very nice to meet you.” He moves to get up again and I double down. Both hands are now on his forearm and I’m questioning how my body seems to move faster than my brain can even process just what the fuck I’m doing.

“Wait. Um… would it be awful to ask you to stay with me a bit?” My grip is still tight, but hopefully not in a creepy, desperate way. He seems to relax and sit back down. “I’ve been alone in here and I’m so bored with not being able to see and all. I’ll even send you a fruit basket as a thank you!” A fruit basket? Are you insane?

“I’ll only stay if you make it a basket of nothing but strawberries.” His forearms are rock solid beneath my touch, and I gingerly remove my hands from his arms, willing my body to relax.

“Of course. Only the best of the best for you.” I try to sound casual, but I’m not sure it’s working. I want him to stay. Not just because I’m now wide awake in a mostly darkened room by myself on New Year’s Eve, but because something about this person has me curious. I want to know more.

His deep, low chuckle makes a comeback and I shiver at the sound. Actually shiver. I feel him settle into the couch and a ridiculous sense of relief fills me. I didn’t scare him away. At least not yet.

“So, Lainey, Charlie and Maeve told me you set a goal and didn’t want to miss it, hence the eye surgery?” He picks something up and pushes an object on the coffee table closer to me. “I brought you another bottle of water, by the way. It’s by your right knee.”

I swallow, suddenly feeling my throat dry up. “Oh. Th-thank you. You really don’t have to keep doing these things for me. Honestly, you don’t even know me…” I reach for the water, drinking at least half of the bottle.

“It’s alright. You’re kind of helping me as much as I’m helping you. I really didn’t want to be with a group of drunk people tonight.” After a long silence, he says, “You’re not going to say anything to that? Not going to ask me why?”

“Oh. No. I was giving you time to think, in case you wanted to elaborate. Sometimes I find people react or respond too quickly to something someone says, and it just seemed like you had more to say.” I take another drink. “Plus, if you wanted to tell me why, I’m giving you the chance to, since it’s the natural follow-up question.”

“Do you not want to know why?” he asks this with a genuinely curious tone.

“I want to know everything you want to tell me, Adam.” Annnnnnd my cheeks are flushed again. To people who know me, they know this statement is 100% true. I am always ready and willing to listen. But he’s still a stranger. I need to reel in the familiarity. STAT!

“Really? Why’s that? Are you a journalist? Reporter? Work for some media company?” Now he sounds a little annoyed. Huh. Interesting. His guard is up.

I chuckle because that couldn’t be further from what I do for a living. Though I do genuinely like getting to know people and understanding how they think. I haven’t had the chance to do this, speak so freely and openly with someone new in… months!

“No, no. None of the above. I’d actually prefer it if we didn’t talk about work if that’s OK? I don’t know what you do, and I’m not going to ask. If you want to keep talking in the dark with me, we can keep doing that. Just no work talk. I’m trying to focus on everything but work right now. Is that alright?” I suddenly don’t know what to do with my hands. Is he going to think this is a strange request? Probably. Is he going to think I’m some sort of psycho? It’s likely he does already.

He lets out a breath, sounding much more relaxed. “Yeah, I’m very OK with that. I don’t really want to talk about work either.”

“OK. Good. So, you don’t want to be around the drunk folks. What else?” I tuck my legs under me so I can face him, even though I can’t see him. I can tell he has dark hair and maybe a beard. I know he’s tall, and he smells like soap and maybe pine or eucalyptus. It makes me think of fresh mountain air. He’s wearing a light shirt and dark pants. And that’s all I can tell from the dimly lit room and my very blurry vision.

“That’s it. I just didn’t feel like being around many people. I was about to leave and then I decided to come here and check on you. I wanted to talk to you, just not anyone else.” His voice fades away as he gets to the end of that statement. I think he’s as shocked as I am that he said it and I’m pretty sure I hear him mumble something like ‘fucking idiot, why did you say that’ under his breath.

I pull my lips between my teeth to keep from smiling too big. I can’t help it. His honesty is refreshing, and I want to talk to him, too.

I see his arm come up like he’s maybe scratching the back of his head. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question earlier.”

“Oh? What question is that?” I keep my tone light.

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