guilt.
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Why do I feel guilty? He has no right to talk to me that
way.
And yet… what the hell did I think I was doing?
“Let me go.” I try to push him out of the way, but as I do,
I feel a stabbing pain rush through my entire body. “Ouch. What the…” I pinch
my eyes through the agony.
“Don’t move, kid. You’re pretty banged up.” He hums at me as
he continues to press the warm towel to my forehead.
“Don’t call me kid. ” I snap.
I watch as he furrows his brow and rolls his bottom lip
under his teeth.
“Well, I won’t call you kid if you stop doing
childish things.”
“Me? Me?” I blow up. “You’re the one who devised an entire
plan just to get me to sleep with you!”
He half laughs as he lifts his face away from mine. “I
wouldn’t necessarily call that childish. ”
And then he winks.
Oh dear Lord, I could just punch him.
And yet, I can’t. I still can’t really move without wincing.
“You still never answered me.” I call to Johnny who is now
in the kitchen.
“What question did you ask me?” He calls right back as he
sets out a mug on the kitchen countertop and pours out boiling water from the
tea kettle.
“How did I get back here?”
Johnny steps back out in front of me, setting a cup of tea
onto the coffee table. “This is my own little brew. Something to get you back
on your feet.”
He carefully explains to me that he woke up early to go for
a run when he realized I wasn’t on the couch, and I wasn’t still locked in the
closet. So he jogged down to the studio and checked with the night security. They
both told him that I had been there about two hours earlier, but refused to let
them call for a car.
Knowing my stubbornness, he decided to run down the street a
little ways, in the direction he knew I might try to walk.
That’s when he saw me-passed out on the sidewalk.
“Do you remember what happened, Caroline?”
I do. But I don’t want to talk about it.
Instead, I take a sip of my tea. “Is this whiskey?”
“It is. In tea.” A sharp grin flashes across his face.
“Really? How many times are you going to try and get me drunk?”
I half tease.
“That’s not what this time is about.”
“Oh really?” I raise my eyebrows in distrust, but it hurts.
“You’re in pain, kid. I’m just trying to help ease that.”
“Again with the kid. ” I quietly cry as I push myself
up into a seated position.
Not only does he call me kid, but he also looks at me
as if I’m a child. Awesome.
I sigh and look away. “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like
that.”
Johnny twists his face. “Take off your shirt.”
“Oh my God, do you never quit?” I’m stunned at his
persistence.
But he just laughs. “Caroline, take off your shirt.” He
moves to the bathroom and opens up the medicine cabinet. After grabbing two
bottles, he comes back and kneels down in front of me. “This is arnica
ointment. It helps to reduce the inflammation and swelling. Thisis Bromelain. If you take one of these, it will
actually break down…” He looks up into my utterly confused eyes. “You know
what? Just take this whenever I tell you to.”
Johnny hands me a pill, and I do as I’m told.
“This is the part where I need you to take off your
shirt—it’s already ripped halfway.”
“I can put on the ointment myself.” I reach out my hand, but
flinch involuntarily from the act.
He rocks back. “If you can reach your arm around to your
side, I’ll let you put this on yourself.”
It’s a challenge, which I smugly accept.
Except I can’t. So I try again. The pain is too much, and my
will is not enough. Tears sting my eyes.
“Can you lift your arms up?” His voice is soft and his eyes
are caring. For some reason, I trust him.
I shake my head. “I can’t.” I feel my face flush with
embarrassment.
“It’s okay,
“What the hell did you think you were doing?”
Why do I feel guilty? He has no right to talk to me that
way.
And yet… what the hell did I think I was doing?
“Let me go.” I try to push him out of the way, but as I do,
I feel a stabbing pain rush through my entire body. “Ouch. What the…” I pinch
my eyes through the agony.
“Don’t move, kid. You’re pretty banged up.” He hums at me as
he continues to press the warm towel to my forehead.
“Don’t call me kid. ” I snap.
I watch as he furrows his brow and rolls his bottom lip
under his teeth.
“Well, I won’t call you kid if you stop doing
childish things.”
“Me? Me?” I blow up. “You’re the one who devised an entire
plan just to get me to sleep with you!”
He half laughs as he lifts his face away from mine. “I
wouldn’t necessarily call that childish. ”
And then he winks.
Oh dear Lord, I could just punch him.
And yet, I can’t. I still can’t really move without wincing.
“You still never answered me.” I call to Johnny who is now
in the kitchen.
“What question did you ask me?” He calls right back as he
sets out a mug on the kitchen countertop and pours out boiling water from the
tea kettle.
“How did I get back here?”
Johnny steps back out in front of me, setting a cup of tea
onto the coffee table. “This is my own little brew. Something to get you back
on your feet.”
He carefully explains to me that he woke up early to go for
a run when he realized I wasn’t on the couch, and I wasn’t still locked in the
closet. So he jogged down to the studio and checked with the night security. They
both told him that I had been there about two hours earlier, but refused to let
them call for a car.
Knowing my stubbornness, he decided to run down the street a
little ways, in the direction he knew I might try to walk.
That’s when he saw me-passed out on the sidewalk.
“Do you remember what happened, Caroline?”
I do. But I don’t want to talk about it.
Instead, I take a sip of my tea. “Is this whiskey?”
“It is. In tea.” A sharp grin flashes across his face.
“Really? How many times are you going to try and get me drunk?”
I half tease.
“That’s not what this time is about.”
“Oh really?” I raise my eyebrows in distrust, but it hurts.
“You’re in pain, kid. I’m just trying to help ease that.”
“Again with the kid. ” I quietly cry as I push myself
up into a seated position.
Not only does he call me kid, but he also looks at me
as if I’m a child. Awesome.
I sigh and look away. “I’m fine. Don’t look at me like
that.”
Johnny twists his face. “Take off your shirt.”
“Oh my God, do you never quit?” I’m stunned at his
persistence.
But he just laughs. “Caroline, take off your shirt.” He
moves to the bathroom and opens up the medicine cabinet. After grabbing two
bottles, he comes back and kneels down in front of me. “This is arnica
ointment. It helps to reduce the inflammation and swelling. Thisis Bromelain. If you take one of these, it will
actually break down…” He looks up into my utterly confused eyes. “You know
what? Just take this whenever I tell you to.”
Johnny hands me a pill, and I do as I’m told.
“This is the part where I need you to take off your
shirt—it’s already ripped halfway.”
“I can put on the ointment myself.” I reach out my hand, but
flinch involuntarily from the act.
He rocks back. “If you can reach your arm around to your
side, I’ll let you put this on yourself.”
It’s a challenge, which I smugly accept.
Except I can’t. So I try again. The pain is too much, and my
will is not enough. Tears sting my eyes.
“Can you lift your arms up?” His voice is soft and his eyes
are caring. For some reason, I trust him.
I shake my head. “I can’t.” I feel my face flush with
embarrassment.
“It’s okay,
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