Page 14 of Nothing To Lose
My eyes burn with tears I didn't see coming and I look away, trying to hide my outburst. I never let myself show this much emotion. My father would never approve, but also I abhor being seen as weak. I've never been particularly athletic or had many interests outside of my computer, but being a pale, skinny nerd doesn't make me any less capable of taking care of myself.
Then again, this is someone who's seen proof otherwise.
"I'm a stranger."
"And yet you still came home with me," he says with a joking lilt, and winks at me again. He should really stop that. It's confusing. "Let's get you dressed, fed, and medicated. You'll feel better."
"Sorry I'm such a mess," I say, wiping away tears and snot with the corner of the towel.
"Don't be. I've had my share of concussions, and they fuck with your head. One time, I cried because I knocked over a box of donuts. My sister thought I was on drugs."That makes me laugh."They weren't even good donuts, they were the shitty grocery store kind that leave that weird texture in your mouth, like you licked wax."
I'm still smiling, but have no clue what he means. It sounds terrible, but I've never wanted to try something more, just to have a common experience with him.
He grins back at me. "You probably eat better donuts. Donuts that would actually be worth crying over, that don't leave a shitty film in your mouth."
I shrug, because I don't know what to say about that.
I'm not sure if it was his intention all along, but he's effectively distracted me enough that I relax my hold on the towel. He takes it from me and uses it to help dry my hair. It's not until he's about to step away that I remember my see-through underwear and confused dick that has a mind of its own. I pull the towel back in a panic, holding it in front of my crotch. He nods understandingly.
"How about you wrap the towel around your waist, and we'll go back to the bedroom so you can sit to get dressed? I'll throw your dirty and wet things in the wash."
Face burning, I nod in agreement. What else can I even do at this point?
4
ISAAC
"So are you this nice to every stranger you meet?" Tyler asks once he's dressed in my clothes. He's drowning in them. It’s adorable. Of course, I don't tell him that. I'm trying to keep the creep factor down, especially after spending the last twenty minutes gritting my teeth through the most awkward shower of my life. He's already uncomfortable in my presence. A good part of that is probably that I'm a stranger, but I know I can come off intimidating. So I hope my uneasiness in the shower didn't make anything worse.
I didn't mean to look. In fact, I was pointedlynotlooking. He's a damn trauma victim. The last thing he needs is some lowlife perving on him.
But yeah, I saw it. I couldn'tnotsee it.
Now I just have to pretend to be cool about it. Like I didn't see it. Like it doesn't matter, because it shouldn't. He needs my help, and my friendship. Maybe my protection. Not my sick personal interest.
"Only the cute ones."
Fuck. Shit. Really Isaac?
Tyler's eyes widen.
Deflecting, I snort a laugh. "Wow, that came out wrong."
He chuckles, but it doesn't feel or sound genuine.Ugh, way to go, asshole.
The shrill ring of my phone breaks the awkward silence between us. "Ah, food's here. Your meds are in that paper bag over there," I say, pointing to the counter where I stacked all his discharge stuff.
Grateful for the escape, I run to the front door and grab the bags of food I ordered less than ten minutes ago when we were leaving the showers. Luckily,The Nookwas more than happy to accommodate me when I texted Mac and Anders.
"I'm going to warn you now, I have no idea what's in this bag, but whatever it is will probably be delicious."
"You don't know what you ordered?"
"Nope," I say, shaking my head as I unload the bag on the small kitchen counter. "I've become friends with the owners atThe Nook, and they know I'll eat just about anything. Since they're the closest and I thought you might want something light, I just told them that I had a sick friend, and they took care of the rest." I hand him his drink and pull out the few dishes I have—two plates, two bowls, and two sets of silverware.
"Okay, looks like we have some soup and a few different sandwich options. Fruit salad. And enough baked goods to get us through a week," I say, laughing. Opening the container with the soup, I take a whiff and groan. "Fuck, that smells good, do you want?—"
I stop short at the look on his face.
