Page 12 of The Secret Experimentation
“I managed by myself.” He waves his hand in the air dismissively. “Alfred is not creepy.” He sniffs at me. “Just very smutty.” Pushing away from the frame, he sways dangerously on his feet.
“Pixie.” I hurriedly reach for him, yanking his body against mine. I tense at the contact, feeling his damp hair through my shirt. He must have lost his grip on the towel because there’s only warm skin under my fingers. His cheek suddenly pulls away from my pec. The bruise on his face has become an angry midnight-blue color.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, embarrassed, staring at my button-down. There’s a wet spot on my chest. My dark nipple is clearly displayed, and Mel’s cheeks are turning a bright red. Still, he doesn’t avert his eyes. The sight and feel of the mess on my shirt don’t bother me that much. Well, it does bother me more than it would any other person. My orderly tendencies rouse as soon as something isn’t. And as I watch the transparent fabric on my pec, I can feel the usual clawing sensation under my skin. It will grow to unbearable levels until I fix the mess.
“Time for my bloody beauty rest!” Alfred’s obnoxious yell abruptly pierces the silence.
Mel’s body is trembling against mine. The light in his whiskey doe eyes is dimmed. The event at the shelter has really taken its toll on him. There’s no trace of the sassy little pixie I know.
I cautiously lift his light frame in my arms and sit him on the bed. After picking up the towel from the floor I start drying his hair. He makes a muffled noise, but I keep going, wanting him to stop shivering. I change the bandage on his torso and check the wounds on his knees. The cuts are not very deep but they look painful. They remind me once again how very differently this evening might have turned out. The thought of a world without the possibility of seeing Mel’s mischievous smile makes me angrier than it should.
“Clothes?” I ask, eyeing the dresser. But he shakes his head.Okay.
I position him under the covers, keeping my eyes fixed on his delicate collarbone. When I try to take a step back his cold fingers around my forearm stop me.
“Stay.” The grip he has on me would be easy to break, but it’s the weakness in his voice that stops me.
He pats his hand on the other side of the bed, and with a sigh, I follow his invitation. I suddenly remember the painkillers he needs to take.
I go to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, tuning out Alfred’s invitation to suck his royal knob. When I come back, Mel seems relieved to see me, his tense neck and shoulders relax against the mattress. Did he think I was leaving?
I grab a couple of painkillers and help him swallow them with the water.
“Tell me something about you.” His big eyes look tired when I sit on the bed again. I can see he’s forcing himself to stay awake.
“You need to rest,” I try, even though I know my words will be left unheard.
“Please.” The barely there whisper gets to me, and the strong protective feeling that hit me when I heard his broken voice through the phone grows.
“I have a younger brother. Scott,” I blurt out the first thing that crosses my mind. I was about to go see his new place after leaving some documents at Asher’s when Mel called.
His lips curl up slightly. “I’ve always wanted one. Is it as exasperating and amazing as I think?”
“We are very different, so you can say that.”
“Different how?” He attempts to turn on his side, but the sudden flinch of his body must remind him about the wounds. I grab a pillow and position it under his head to make it easier for him to look at me. Then I take off my shoes, lay down on my side, and prop my head on my hand. I don’t feel awkward being in bed with a man. My brother and best friend are both gay, and I’ve slept with them countless times in the past.
He gives me a grateful smile and then gestures for me to keep talking.
“Scott is intimidating, impulsive, and snarly. While I’m more controlled, silent, and kind of callous-looking.” As my ex, Vanessa, used to say.
A cute, refuting line forms between Mel’s eyebrows. “Lookingis the key word here. Your face doesn’t show that many emotions, I can give you that. But that just means you have a strong hold on your feelings, not that you don’t have any.” Mel’s statement surprises me. And just as he’s said, I hide my bafflement behind a blank expression.
“I’m shit at poker, but I’m pretty good at reading your tells.”
“Tells?”
Mel nods. “They are easy to see. Like the left corner of your lips tremble slightly when you suppress a smile. The tip of your fingers twitch when you are upset. Right now your eyelashes tremble lightly, which means you’re surprised by what I’m saying.”
“You’ve studied me quite thoroughly,” I grunt, amused by his examination. And fluttered. Nobody has ever had that much interest in me before.
He blushes, reminding both of us of all the times he flirted with me. Flirted. Past tense. Not anymore.
“Yeah, well, I’m like a mindless, relentless dog with a bone when something tickles my…curiosity.” His eyes are on the ceiling and his mouth is puckered, like he’s lost in his head. Silence falls between us for a while. The wetness on my shirt is getting intolerable.
“Do you and your brother look alike?” Mel suddenly asks.
“We are built the same, but he’s more rugged.” Scott’s long hair and flannel shirts pop into my head. My mom always says I took my sense of style from her, while Scott took hisnon-sense from Pop. We are quite the opposite in many aspects, but he’s one of the few people who’s not put out by my uniqueness. He complains profusely about it but still accepts me.
