Page 41 of Hot Doggin'
Please, I’m a fucking delight.
His knee is bouncing hard enough to shake my chair. “You good?”
Stiles glances at me with a side eye. “Yeah. Don’t need you to hold my hand.” I place my hand on his thigh, and he realizes what he’s doing and stills. He blows out a big breath. “Sorry. Why am I nervous? I’ve done this a hundred times.”
“Are you afraid they’re gonna say it’s getting worse?”
“No. I don’t know. Do you think it is?”
“Not necessarily. And you’ve been playing those brain games like crazy on your phone. Hopefully they’re helping.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “I hate feeling like my brain is broken. Like I'm at some kind of disadvantage in life and I have to work twice as hard as everyone else just to keep up.”
“That’s why the government pays you the big bucks every month,” I tease, trying to draw a smile out of him.
“What if they say I’m getting worse? What if they say there’s no new treatments?”
The fear in his voice makes me cringe. I just want to make him feel confident again, to see him smile and see that lightshine in his eyes. “I don’t know, I guess we’ll deal with it together. Just like we always do. And you’re living with me now, which helps. It’s easier for me to keep all your shit straight.”
“It doesn’t bother you that I haven’t gone back to my apartment?”
“Why would it? I thought you liked staying with me.”Please don’t leave. Please don’t fucking leave.
“I do,” Stiles reassures me. “Just don’t want to impose on you.”
It’s my turn to look at him sideways. “Dude, impose on me? Get the fuck out of here with that bullshit. You’re my best friend. Nothing about you is an imposition.”
Stiles lowers his voice and leans in to whisper, “Would anything else change between us if I’m losing more of my memory?”
Like what? What else would change? Why does anything have to change?And then I realize he’s talking about the sex thing.
“Are you fucking kidding me? Why would that change? You’re hot whether you can remember my name or not. Don’t worry, I’ll keep reminding you what it is. I’ll also remind you that you really want to suck my dick, bad. And the more often you do it, the more likely you are to remember.”
It takes him a moment, but he begins to laugh, and it grows louder by the second. “You’re a hot fucking mess.”
“I choose to focus on the word hot and leave the rest behind.” He’s about to say more when the nurse calls him back. “Want me to go with you?”
“Yeah. I’m always gonna want you right by my side.”
Well, fuck me sideways. If that isn’t the sweetest thing. Damn right, I’m gonna be by his side. Ride or die.
I have to remain in the waiting room while they take a scan of his brain, but after that, Stiles is shown to a room, and the nurse calls me back to sit with him.
“Were you serious about not dating other people?” he asks out of nowhere.
“Did you want me to be serious?”
“Yeah. I do.”
Fuch yeah! “I was dead-as-balls serious.”
Stiles chuckles. “What does that mean, dead-as-balls?”
“It means I’m serious. Real serious. The serious-ist.”
He’s laughing now. Mission accomplished. “You’re a mess.”
“No, you said I’m a hot mess. You think I’m hot.”
