Page 32 of Beautiful Desire
Sighing heavily, he says, “Yeah, but it has a lid, which makes it weird now that I think about it.”
“Makeswhatweird?” I ask, right as another wave of cramps hits me again. “Fletcher, it currently feels like someone is using awrenchto twist my ovaries, and you’re talking in code. Could we please get on with it?”
“Fine, here,” he huffs, shoving the basket across the table before folding his arms over his chest.
There’s a slight tremble in my hand as I bring it closer to me. I’m quick to blame it on the sharp, stabbing pain in my pelvis and the nausea washing over me in waves, but when my heart rate speeds up and flutters that feel an awful lot like butterflies join the discomfort in my lower stomach, I’m not so sure. Especially since there’s a tiny voice in the far back of my mind telling me it’s more than that.
Glancing in the basket, my mouth dries and a lump settles in my throat, growing with each passing second, because as I look at everything inside, my brain can’t seem to compute any of it. “What’s all this?” I ask hoarsely. Lifting my gaze to the man on the other side of the table, the organ in my chest thumps against my ribs when I find Fletcher already watching me, an unreadable expression on his face.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “When you mentioned having PCOS, I didn’t know what that meant, so when we got home, I looked it up. There’s a Reddit page for people who have it, and basically, what I got from reading through it is that it’s a hormonal imbalance that messes with your periods, right? Makes them heavy, inconsistent and more painful?”
It’s my turn to swallow thickly as a layer of goosebumps dots my flesh. “Among other things, yes.”
“Which is why you’ve been in your room since yesterday afternoon? Because you’ve been in pain?”
I nod, fighting the urge to rub at the dull ache in the center of my chest.
“That’s fucking shitty,” he states plainly, and a chuckle huffs out of me before I can help it. Unfolding his arms, Fletcher gestures toward the basket in front of me with his index finger. “I looked up things that might be able to help with the pain, or at least, alleviate it. Not sure if any of this will help, but a bunch of women on Reddit swore by some of this stuff.”
Pressure builds behind my eyes, the ball in my throat making it hard to breathe, and even though I know my periods make me extra emotional, I still don’t like it. I drop my eyes, looking inside the basket again,reallytaking everything in this time. There’s so much, and my chest tightens with each item. Chamomile tea, a new, wearable heating pad that Velcros together, lavender bubble bath, some body scrub, a large bottle of pain reliever, and a few different kinds of chocolate and gummy candies.
Holy shit.
Forget the butterflies, a whole damn swarm of bees is buzzing around my stomach as my pulse thunders in my ears. Grabbing the Coco Coladashea sugar scrub out of the basket, I examine it front and back, like it’ll somehow have all the answers I can’t seem to voice right now.
Throat tight with emotion, I slide my gaze over to Fletcher. “You didn’t have to do all this,” I say, voice nothing more than a breathy whisper.
It’s the period hormones.
I’m only emotional because of the hormones.
That’s all this is.
“Yeah, I know I didn’t have to, but I thought it might help.” His shoulder lifts lazily with a shrug. “But honestly, it’s more for me than anything, because I don’t really want to listen to you complain about it all week. It’s not a big deal.”
It’s a cop out—the reason he added that last part. I know it is.
What I’m not sure about, though, is if he added it for me…or for him. As relaxed as his body language appears right now, is it possible he’s feeling as overwhelmed as I am? All of this… It’s incredibly thoughtful, and also, sonotsomething I pictured him doing.
So, why did he do it? And why does my chest feel like it’s going to explode? Or like my head is swimming in a hazy fog? None of this makes any sense. Not this damn basket, and certainly not how I’m feeling. And because I genuinely think I may pass out if I don’t go lie back down within the next three minutes, I take the out. I don’t call him on it. The emotions surrounding this basket can be future Georgia’s problem.
Clearing my throat, I force a smile on my face as I grab the basket. “I’m gonna go back to bed, but thank you for all this. I appreciate it.”
Fletcher mirrors my awkward smile and nods, but before I can make it back to my room, he says, “Wait, your water!” I turn around as he’s grabbing it. “Go ahead. I’ll fill it up and bring it to you,” he adds.
Giving him a terse nod, I walk into my room, the tension in the air suffocating me. I don’t think I’ve ever been as confused asI am right now. So what, he made me a period basket? Like he said, it’s not a big deal… So, why does it feel like anything but?
A few minutes later, Fletcher strolls into my room, looking cool as a cucumber. “Here you go,” he murmurs as he places the cup on my nightstand, setting a pack of peanut butter crackers beside it. “Figured you were probably hungry. There’s some soup in the cupboard I can make for you later, if you’re feeling up for it.”
“Thanks,” I say, much too shakily.
“No problem.” He turns around to leave, but he pauses when he reaches the doorway. “Oh, by the way, Reddit also told me how orgasms help with cramps.” A smirk curls his lip that makes my stomach bottom out. “Let me know if you need a littleassistancerelieving the pain later.”
And there’s the Fletcher I know and can’t stand. Although, I’m starting to wonder if the latter is just a lie I’m telling myself.
“You fucking wish.” I snort. “I’m good, but thanks, rich boy.”
He winks, breathing out a chuckle before leaving.
