Page 64 of Freckles

“You went on the pill?”

“An IUD.” She wrinkles her nose.

I take her hand from where it’s caught between our bodies, kissing each knuckle, stroking her fingers. “You know I’d support you if anything happens. You and our baby.”

“If your uncle doesn’t like things that cost him money, a teenager pregnant with his nephew’s child won’t exactly be a celebration.”

“Let me worry about my uncle.”

Francesca wrinkles her nose, then sits up in alarm, slipping off me. “Shit. You’re still bleeding.”

She gets off the bed and puts my rugby shirt back on before leading me into the bathroom. I lean against the sink and the wound throbs as she cleans it, staunching the flow of blood. Occasionally her tongue flicks out, wetting her lips, then she snags the bottom one between her teeth, as though the pain helps her concentrate.

“Keep still,” she orders, the deep V of her frown line appearing. I touch it with my finger and her face scrunches a little more, but she doesn’t flinch away.

Somewhere in the past hour, Francesca forgot she’s scared of me at all.

“I’m serious,” she snaps as I grab at her hair, rubbing the bright strands between my fingers. “Keep moving around like this, and it’ll scar.”

“Nothing wrong with a few scars. They can join my collection.”

Her eyes meet mine, then flick away. The cloth she’s using to clean the wound is already soaked through with watery crimson. I’m not sure it’s absorbing the weakening flow any longer or just moving it around.

“A shower would work better.”

She snorts. “You wouldn’t fit into the cubicle.”

Instead, she runs a bath, already knowing I can squeeze into the tub. The bloody rag gets tossed in the sink to soak.

“Are you gonna join me?”

“I’m not the one covered in blood.”

I lean forward, thumb wiping a few specks from her chin.

“Doesn’t count.” She grabs a loofah from the shower cubicle and a container of liquid soap while I lower myself into the water. “Lean forward and I’ll scrub your back.”

With her perched on the rim, it’s all I can do not to drag her in with me, but I obediently lean forward, closing my eyes as she lathers in circles, across my shoulders, along my spine, painstakingly covering every square inch of skin.

“I think you got all of it,” I tease as she rubs the nape of my neck for the third time. “There is another whole side of me, you know.”

“Just being thorough,” she says in a prim voice that drives me wild. “Lean back, then.”

I do, enjoying the way she steals tiny peeks at me. I love the moments when her curiosity transforms into admiration, giving me an ego boost and showing the attraction isn’t one-sided.

After the only girl I’ve ever given a damn aboutstabbedme, I need something to prove I’m on the right track.

“Did I hurt you?”

Yes. You made me feel too much and I don’t know where to put it.

But Francesca is only just warming to me. Telling her details like that will make her bolt in the other direction.

“That depends,” I say instead, taking her wrist and guiding her to where my body is desperate to be stroked clean. “Did you want to?”

“If it teaches you a lesson, yes.”

I drag the loofah farther along my chest, bringing her with it, and she nearly tips into the water, squealing with a mix of laughter and fright.

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