Page 48 of What About Us
“And that.” I nod toward the nightstand, even though she isn’t looking at me. “Is that your last pen?”
When I look back at her, she lifts her arm and rolls her eyes at me. “I don’t want a lecture, either.”
“I’m not going to lecture you.”
“Why do I feel a gigantic ‘but’ coming?” she asks sarcastically. She must be feeling somewhat better, as her sassy attitude is returning.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I swipe my thumb back and forth over the wrist resting on her abdomen. I hate that she’s been struggling this whole time and I didn’t know. “I could have helped you get what you need; replaced your pump.”
She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “Those are like, ten grand, friend.” She’s pissed. “And don’t tell me you can afford it.”
“Well, I can,” I say anyway.
She groans and sits up. She grabs her head in her hands and leans in, dropping her head on my chest. My arms come around her, and I rest my chin on the top of her head. She’s turned at an awkward angle, but she doesn’t seem to care.
“Headache?”
Her voice is muffled against my shirt when she nods and speaks again. “Yeah, and I really have to pee. Can you help me to the bathroom?”
“Come on, clumsy,” I tease, trying to lighten her mood some and help her stand. Teasing is our default; it makes us who we are to each other.
She’s a little wobbly, but we make it there ok. She hesitates on the threshold.
“I’m so cold,” she says. “Can you help me get intothe shower?”
I look down at her and nod, but I hesitate to leave her alone. “Will you be ok? What if you pass out?”
She glances at the shower stall, considering my words. I will absolutely sit in here while she showers just so she’s ok, but I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. And also, fuck if that doesn’t sound like the most excruciating kind of torture.
The shower doors in this place are completely see-through. I’d be sitting in the same room, facing the wall and trying to keep my dick under control while she’s naked. But I’d do it. For her. And now, I feel like a complete creeper, because here I am, thinking about seeing Finn naked while she’s sick.
“I can sit,” she says, gesturing to the built-in bench in the shower.
I nod and turn on the shower, then maneuver her toward the toilet. “You need help getting undressed?”
She nods and my gut tightens as she tries and fumbles with the buttons on her jeans as steam starts to fill the small space. She drops her hands and her shoulders slump away from her ears.
“My hands are too weak,” she says, turning exhausted eyes up to mine. Her bottom lip sort of pouts out, and now that she’s feeling slightly better, I can let out a sigh of relief.
“Here, let me.” I reach for her waistband. She steadies herself with a hand on each of my shoulders, while I pop the button on her skinny jeans. The air feels thick as fuck when I move to pull down her zipper. I can do this. I can undress my best friend, and it means nothing. I’m an adult and she needs me.
She lets out a sigh and moves her hand to the top of my head when I bend to slip her jeans down her hips, exposing her black lace panties. It’s an image that will be burned into my brain until the end of time, but I’m going for stand-up best friend here, and not a creeper who pops a chubwhen she’s so vulnerable. So, I avert my eyes and focus on working her jeans the rest of the way down her legs.
I motion to the toilet with a tilt of my head. “Sit down, baby.”
Her quiet voice cuts through some of the tension I’m feeling being this close to a more than half-naked Finnley. “That’s the second time you’ve called me that,” she says. Running a hand over my hair, her fingers come to rest just behind my ear.
Damn, these jeans are painted on her legs. I glance up at her, realizing she said something. “What?”
“Baby,” she says. “You’ve called me that twice. Once on the phone and again just now.”
Did I?
“I hadn’t noticed.” And I honestly hadn’t. “Sorry.”
“It’s ok,” she whispers and then works her pants down her ankles, alternating with each foot until she’s able to step out of them. I try not to notice how her thighs rub together as she moves.
When I stand up, she lifts her shirt and tugs it off over her head, leaving her standing there in just her sports bra and panties. I avert my eyes—again—and step away to test the shower water.
