Page 17 of The Boy I Once Loved

He comes back in, still struggling to hold in that trademark smirk and he lifts me under the arms again to standing. He places my crutches under my arms, allowing me to stand on my foot. “Okay, I’m going to pull them up now.”

“Wait, stop!” I grab his arm, “You can’t. I mean, if you bend down to pull them up, you’ll be level with my bits.”

He chuckles. “I’ll close my eyes the whole time, okay?”

I want to say no, but I realise I have little choice and I nod in agreement, my cheeks flushing a brilliant shade of red. He closes his eyes and moves his hands down my legs until he is crouched before me with his hands on my panties and shorts. Clearing his throat, he then slowly lifts them up, his skin in constant contact with mine the entire time he moves up my body. Jeepers, give a girl a break. This is torture. He finally pulls them up over my hips, his palm skimming across my arse as he pulls them up onto my waist.

“There. All done.” His voice comes out all raspy, and he opens his eyes and stares at me with a look I can’t fathom. “Ready for breakfast?” He holds out his hand to take my stick and then he lifts me, only this time he carries me, so I have my legs around his waist facing him.

"What are you doing?" I ask in wide-eyed panic.

“I call it carrying you downstairs.” He scrutinises me. “Do I make you nervous?”

I scoff, trying to come across as if that suggestion is ridiculous. “Of course not. I’ve known you all my life.”

He nods silently and places me on a barstool at the kitchen island. "Seeing as you are injured, I will make breakfast for you just this once."

“Get to it then boy, I’m famished.”

With a chuckle, he sets to work on our breakfast, and I sit in silence watching him. He pushes his brown hair out of his eyes as he concentrates on cracking and beating the eggs. He is still shirtless, and my eyes cannot help but drift towards that small black umbrella tattoo on his chest.

Am I being ridiculous thinking it is about me? I mean, Dylan has never and would never see me that way. I am the best friend, not a girl he has ever wanted in that way.

“What are you thinking about?”

He peels my attention from his chest, and I meet his inquisitive gaze. I shrug my shoulders. “Just stuff.” The sound of the front door stops him from quizzing me any further.

"I'm home," Mum shouts from the hallway.

"We're through here," Dylan shouts, looking all too comfortable in my kitchen.

My mum walks in and beams at him. “Dylan, you stayed and looked after her for me?”

He shrugs like it is nothing. “Of course. Sit down, Mrs H, I’m just about to plate out breakfast.”

My mum smiles at him again before taking a seat at the kitchen island. “How is the patient?” She asks me, looking down at my boot.

“Grumpy and demanding.” Dylan pipes up before I have a chance to answer.

“I am not grumpy and demanding, thank you,” I hiss before I turn my attention back to my mum. “The patient is fine but not happy to be on crutches.”

My mum smiles. “You never made a good patient.”

"She was always so bad-tempered when she was ill,” Dylan says, agreeing with her.

“Err excuse me. I am here, you know?” I eye my feast of a breakfast up as he places it in front of me. “Thanks.”

He finally comes and sits to my right, and we all tuck in to eat.

“What do you two have planned for the day? I’m taking myself off to bed after I have eaten this so I’m not going to be able to play nurse just yet.”

“That’s okay, Mrs H. I can take Ella over to my house for the day. I’m babysitting Charlie anyhow, and Ella can keep me company.”

"Oh no, I'll be fine here." I really can't cope with any more one-on-one time with Dylan, it is wreaking havoc with my heart and mind.

“Nonsense honey you need someone to help you and who better but Dylan, besides, who else could we ask?”

“Connor?” I offer.

Dylan shakes his head. “Connor is working a shift at the cinema today.”

There goes that idea. I didn’t have any other suggestions, so it looks like I have no argument to make.

Mum licks her lips. “Dylan, that was delicious honey. Bedtime for me.” My mum pats me on the back as she passes me to head on up to bed.

“Okay, let’s get you dressed.” He comes round to me and thankfully offers me his back this time. Placing my arms around his neck, he holds my legs and we head upstairs.

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