He sits on the opposite end of the sectional, taking my feet in his lap. We watch the show in comfortable silence, the heating pad working wonders on my cramps.
He grabs the food when it arrives and spreads it out on the coffee table. This is the second time I’ve noticed he doesn’t get single-use utensils from the takeout place, but rather uses regular ones. I guess green isn’t just the theme for the gala, but his personal theme as well.
“Chicken soup.” He hands me the bowl and the spoon, offering to feed me, but I shake my head.
Grabbing another bowl of soup, he joins me eating.
“What? Do you also have some ailments I’m not aware of?”
“Nope. Just love eating soup.” This makes me laugh so hard I almost spill the soup.
“Sheesh. Maybe you should lay off the pills,” he jokes, and a blush creeps up my neck.
The last time I blushed, I was probably a teenager. But here he is, helping me with my cramps and making me blush. A dangerous combination.
I should really get things back on the right track.
“You know what else I’ve heard does great things for period cramps? Orgasms.” I expect him to make a disgusted face, but he chuckles.
“A tempting offer, but I don’t think you’re feeling well enough for that.” He smirks as if he’s telling the truth. As if he’s really hot for me while I’m dressed like this and bleeding.
“Wow. Not afraid of the red sea, I guess.” Once again, his chuckle fills the room.
“I almost licked my own cum off you the other day. I don’t think being even remotely disgusted by anything regarding you is in the cards for me.” He shrugs while my face burns. Here I am, blushing again.
But somehow, the unexpected dirty talk combined with a more unexpected, sweet sentiment caught me off guard.
The pain finally drifted away, so I doze off for a while. Waking up, I have no idea how much time has passed, but I notice the show is paused. He’s still sitting in the same spot, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, while gently stroking my right foot. I watch him for a second, noticing the impossibly long lashes framing his deep green eyes. He probably hasn’t shaved since yesterday because he has a light scruff, and I like it. He’s so put together at all times, so it feels intimate to see him in a more casual setting.
Fucking hormones. Since when do I want intimate?
I clear my throat, and his gaze lands on me. A devastating smile appears on his face.
“Feeling better?”
“Actually, yes. How long was I out?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“About an hour?”
“Wow, and you stayed the whole time.”
“I wanted to take care of you.” He shrugs.
“You know this isn’t what this is.” I need him to understand this doesn’t change anything between us.
“I know,” he responds quietly.
“Want to watch the rest of the show?” We have just three episodes left. “If you don’t have any plans.”
“I’d love to.” His lips turn up. “Let me fill up the heating pad with some hot water.”
He returns from the kitchen with the pad and a glass of water. Making sure I’m comfortable, he gives me a new dose of pills and presses play on the remote.
We barely speak till the end of the show, but he stays connected to me, his hands caressing my feet and legs. The touch, so soft and tender, burns through my skin, heating me up from the inside.
I cry, and he brings me tissues as Normal people ends.
“Can I get you something else before I leave?”
