Page 145 of Off Camera
I wrapmy blanket around my shoulders and shuffle to my apartment door. I open it for Reid and grimace when I turn back to the living room and the nest I’ve made for myself.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, shutting the door behind him. “You look like shit.”
“Nice to see you too.” I sit on the couch and close my eyes, trying not to wince in pain. “Honestly? I’m miserable. The first day is always the worst, and being on my feet for eight hours didn’t help.”
“Cramps?”
“It feels like someone is taking a knife to my insides. Hacking up my small intestine and leaving me for dead.”
“I brought you a few things. The internet told me they would help,” he says. I open my eyes and watch him unload a bag of groceries on my coffee table. There’s a heating pad. Aspirin and Gatorade. A gallon of water and a bar of dark chocolate. “In case you need them. The message boards are very divided on what works best.”
I blink at the pile in front of me. “You brought all of this? For me?”
“Yeah.” He unscrews the top of the Gatorade bottle and hands it my way. “You said you were in pain.”
“That didn’t mean you had to help.”
Reid pauses and looks at me. His hand is halfway in the bag, and I spy more candy. His eyebrows are pinched, and he nudges his glasses up his nose.
“I wanted to help. Is that okay?”
My nose stings and my eyes blur with tears. I’ve been in so much physical pain all day. Walking from my bed to the couch was excruciating. I’m exhausted and hungry and so thirsty, but thinking about making myself food or getting a glass of water sounded like too much work. Work I don’t have the energy to do.
And here he is, standing in front of me with everything I could ever need.
Asking if it’s okay if he helps.
My heart nearly splits in two.
“Yes,” I whisper, hiding my face under the pile of covers. Under here, he can’t see my red-rimmed eyes or puffy cheeks. He can’t see me at my absolute worst, and I don’t have to see him being the selfless man he is. “It’s okay.”
“Hey.” The couch sinks under his weight. I peel back the blanket that needs to be washed and look at him. “What’s going on, Ave?”
“This is very nice.” I sniff and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. “I feel like garbage and you did something very kind for me. I’m overwhelmed, and it doesn’t help that all my emotions are amplified by my cycle.”
“Consider us even after you cleaned me up during the charity softball game,” Reid says. “You stopped my nose from swelling. I’m helping your uterus… well. I’m not sure of the biological phenomena, but I’m trying to return the favor.”
“I only stopped your nose from swelling so you couldn’t complain I won our bet because you were holed up in the hospital.”
Reid hums. “That’s exactly why I’m here too. Though, I guess it’s futile at this point. It’s looking like you’re going to be the winner.”
We both turn quiet. He sits next to me and picks up one of the books resting on the arm of the couch. He opens it and reads the first page, then the second.
“Is it okay if I—” I ask, and he interrupts me by patting his thighs.
I rest my feet on his black sweatpants. This unbuttoned look of his is one of my favorites. The basic white T-shirt and the joggers that hug the curves of his legs. A pinch of exhaustion on his face and the hint of sunburn across his nose.
“Do you have dinner plans?” he asks after a long stretch of silence, and I realize I’ve been staring at him. Dozing off to the fiery red of his hair and the pink on his cheeks.
“Nothing besides crying in pain,” I say. “Check back in a few days.”
“I’ll order us some food later. How does Thai sound?”
“Reid.” I put my hand on his arm. He looks down at where we’re joined, the smallest smile on his lips. “I was serious when I said we weren’t going to have sex tonight.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “And I was serious when I said I wanted to hang out with our clothes on.”
“If you knew we weren’t going to have sex, why are you here?”
