Page 69 of Mr. Picture Perfect
I look at him. “Than … what?”
He comes out of it, shrugs, then resumes brushing without finishing his sentence. I wonder what he was about to say.
And why he stopped saying it.
He catches my eyes right then in the mirror. Then he lifts his arm abruptly to show me his wound, which I notice is wrapped only halfway with protective gauze. “I made a soggy mess of my bandages in the shower. I have to redo them. Do you, uh … mind helping me wrap the rest of it? I could only do this much.”
“Of course.” I pop my toothbrush in my mouth, then take hold of the roll of gauze that hangs from his arm and carefully wrap the remainder of the wound.
As I do, he watches me, his eyes looking bright and playful, as if this was a ploy of his to get me to touch him more.
Mine, by contrast, are serious and hyper-focused on my task.
“Aww, look at us, Noah,” he sings, practically giddy.
“Don’t distract me.”
“We’re so cute together.”
“Shush.”
He can’t wipe his smile away. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep all of my thoughts to myself.”
As I finish wrapping his arm, I wonder what thoughts exactly he’s having. Thoughts about us? Thoughts about our parents?
Thoughts about what we just did in the shower?
And what we did on my bed before?
And in the car before that?
I don’t recognize my life tonight. I don’t know who I am.
But as I wrap Cole’s arm, with his eyes affixed adoringly to me and my work, I wonder if I miss the old Noah at all. I wonder if it’s totally okay that I’ve been thrust so far outside my comfort zone, I feel like a completely different person.
What if this is what I’ve needed my whole life?
Someone like Cole Harding, who sees the person inside of me that no one else could?
“You should be a nurse,” says Cole.
I look at him. “What?”
“The way you take care of me. And your knowledge, like when you told me about the Necro-fancy-eye-tis thing.”
Still not even close, but nice try. “I just look too many things up. I spend too much time in Wikipedia rabbit holes. That doesn’t make me a doctor by any generous stretch of the imagination.”
“You fascinate me, Noah.”
His compliment still makes me smile.
When I’m finally done, I’m not sure what to say, so I gently let go of his arm, nod at him, then resume brushing my teeth.
Cole lingers there a moment, his eyes on me, then he casually observes his arm while smiling appreciatively. Soon, he’s back to brushing his teeth as well. After a minute, he catches my gaze in the reflection of the mirror and makes a funny face. I look away. After he rinses off his toothbrush, he quickly throws another face at me, catching me off-guard, this time with his eyes crossed and his tongue sticking out. Honestly, it’s more cute than it is funny, and I crack a smile. “Therewe go,” he sings, taking that for some kind of victory, then struts out of the bathroom.
I watch him go. My eyes run down his tapered back, settling on the round, perfect shape of his butt through the towel, which hugs it excruciatingly well. It moves like music as he confidently struts out of the bathroom with his freshly-bandaged arm.
I peel my eyes away, my heart thrashing in my chest. Why is my heart racing again? Aren’t I comfortable around Cole by now?
