Hey, did u lose connection? Your char froze n then u died. I tried 2 help but u weren't moving.
GemsNLace178576:
Yeah sorry, had to take the pup out. She waits for no man.
Emmaculate94:
Lol oh ok. I have bookclub so I'll see u ig tomorrow.
GemsNLace178576:
What book? Romance?
Emmaculate94:
Obv. Chase Me, Daddy Gray.
GemsNLace178576:
I knew I liked you.
The sound of running feet drew my attention, and I picked up my head. "No," I moaned. "Not people. I can't do people, Mini." She whined like she agreed. The sound was coming from behind me, so I hazarded a peek over my shoulder. It was so much worse than just "people." It was Rook. "Ah fuck," I hissed. I tightened the laces of my boot, trying to play it off like I'd been tying my shoe.
When I stood stiffly, he came to a stop a foot from me. His chest rose and fell a little faster, and his wheat-blond hair looked a little ruffled, but otherwise, he looked perfectly composed as always. He'd traded his sweat-soaked shirt for a long-sleeved Henley, but he still wore the same shorts he'd had on when I'd left. When he gave me a sweeping once-over, I knew he was looking for a reason I might have been hurt. How had he known, though? "What happened?" he asked.
"Nothing," I answered quickly. "I was just tying my shoe."
"For ten minutes?" he asked with an eyebrow quirk. Ah. So, he had seen me from the window and then booked it down here to make sure I wasn't dying, most likely.
I clicked my tongue. "Tricky buggers, shoelaces."
Rook looked unconvinced. "I know we're basically strangers—"
"Yeah, I probably shouldn't even be talking to you," I said deadpan.
"—but you can trust me," Rook continued, ignoring my oozing sarcasm. "Are you lightheaded? You look pale."
I was lightheaded. And nauseated. And bleeding to death. But who was counting? "I guess so. I'll go drink some water." Unable to help it any longer, I wrapped an arm around my middle and winced. There were definitely twelve washerwomen in my womb wringing out every ounce of bleeding tissue I had in there. I felt like an abused sponge.
Rook diverted his attention to my midsection. "Is it stomach pain or cramps?"
I sighed disgustedly. Of course. He was an OB/GYN. I'd have better luck hiding crack from a drug dog. "Fine, it's cramps. It's not a big deal."
"Depends on the cramps. Walking is good, but sometimes if they're painful enough, you're just going to make yourself miserable."
"I do not need you to mansp—"
"Donotthrow the 'mansplain' term at me," he replied briskly. "I'm not man explaining anything to you. I'm an MD with years of experience in female anatomy and treatment. I'll try a different tactic. Get your ass back to the house if you're in so much pain that you have to stop in the middle of the road."
I stared at him in surprise. Guys never talked to me this way. They were always syrupy or hesitant to say the wrong thing. Rook took my stubborn pride and colored all over it with a blackpermanent marker like an indignant preschooler. He did not give a fuck, and because it was kind of refreshing, I folded like a well-used Venetian blind. "Okay."
"Do you need help?" He asked it like a flight attendant, so I shook my head and made my way back to the building. I hadn't wanted to drag myself out of my chair in the first place, but it wasn't like I had any privacy in that apartment. It was only day two, and already, I was over it.
He took Mini's leash from me, and without another word, he walked her to the left through an abandoned lot, let her do her business, and then jogged around with her, letting her jump and leap the way she'd wanted to. That kind of made me feel crappy—she was my dog, and sometimes, I was too out of commission to run around with her. But she seemed happy to run with him, and I had to take a mental snapshot of them. Stoic Rook, straight-faced and somber like he was performing a hysterectomy while running alongside the world's happiest but intimidating dog. It made them an oddly perfect match.
When we got back into the apartment, I headed straight for the couch, but Rook pointed to his bedroom. "In bed."
My lip curled. "Your bed?"
