Page 83 of Stealing Sunshine

I choke on a laugh. “All of this. Take care of me like I’m a child.”

She moves around the tub, the sound of a hand cutting into the steady stream of water coming from behind me.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” she murmurs.

“That was out of obligation,” I state, trying and failing to sound unbothered. “My parents wouldn’t have cared if my girlfriend had left once dinner was ruined. It wouldn’t have changed our plan.”

A pause, and then she’s crouching beside me and taking my hand from where I have it resting on my knee, pulling it into her lap.

I have to strain to see her properly, but she’s so beautiful that it’s worth it. Somehow, she doesn’t look tired, just focused, worried. The healthy flush of colour in her cheeks and lips is a welcome sight.

“There’s no obligation, Frosty. Just concern. Now, let me help you up so you can strip and get into the bath.”

My chest tightens, and I speak without thinking about the consequences.

“I need your help.”

She blows out a soft, panted breath. “With getting in?”

I dip my chin. “With everything.”

Her eyes dart to the side, and I worry I’ve blown it before she worries her lip and slowly brings them back. My hand is so fucking sweaty, but I have the flu to blame it on.

She doesn’t. And I’m not that out of it not to realize how slick her palm is against mine.

“Let’s worry about getting you up first.”

I grip the edge of the toilet and hoist myself up as she tugs on my hand. My balance gives, and my vision blackens with fuzz that takes a few seconds to clear. She’s there to stabilize me before I tip over.

“Sorry,” I grunt, sidestepping her to lean against the sink. The sight of myself in the mirror above it nearly has me crumpling to the ground. “Fuck.”

I look like shit. Worse than shit. Like a corpse that’s been dug out of the ground a few days after a burial.

My hair is a giant tangle, and the mess of puke on my shirt is enough to have me fighting a wretch. The blue bags beneath my eyes are deep and dark, bringing attention to the red tinge around my pupils. Daisy ignores both my apology and curse, seeming unbothered by my appearance.

That makes one of us.

She squats and starts digging through the cabinet beneath the sink before pulling out a new toothbrush and toothpaste.

“If you strip, I’ll get this ready, and then you can brush your teeth before getting in the tub. I can even get it ready for you in the hallway,” she offers, tone so soft it’s almost a whisper.

“I’ll brush them first.”

Don’t leave the room.

She’s quick to open the packaging on the toothbrush and smothers it in minty paste. I take it from her and scrub my mouth until I’m sure my gums are bleeding, while she stops the tub from filling any higher.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to leave and come back when you’re in the tub? I’ve put bubbles in,” she says once the toothbrush has been placed on the edge of the sink and the scent of bubble bath fills the room.

Shaking my head once, I lower my hand to the hem of my shirt and inhale a long, steady breath. I curl my fingers in the fabric and start sliding it up my abdomen.

Daisy doesn’t move, although her gasp is hardly loudenough for me to catch it. I’ve never cared much about the opinions of others when it comes to my body. I’ve stripped for and flashed tit at more people in a tattoo studio than society would consider normal, but Daisy’s different.

Her opinion of me is the only one that matters.

In all of the dreams I’ve had where she’s played the leading role, my first time naked never occurred in a situation like this. One where sex and desire aren’t at the forefront of our actions.

Goosebumps pop up on every inch of skin, covering me head to toe. I swallow and tug the shirt over my chest, more aware of my surroundings than I’ve ever been.

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