Chapter 28
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Realism mod can go @$%^ itself.
“When we wake up tomorrow, the town will think we’re married,” Samson says as I’m helping him with our dinner dishes.
Needing to manually heat water just to clean up was a learning curve a few weeks ago, but I’m getting the hang of the minor inconveniences that come with living in my fantasy world more and more each day.
It’s easy when the pros include magical puppies, living with the man of my dreams, and owning a sword.
After Austin and Aurelia left, Samson and I met eyes, then we exploded into a puddle of laughter. The exchange went something like:
Oh my granite, did you see his face? What possessed you, Shoulders?
I thought you’d approve.
I do. I really do.
I’m glad. I’m gonna check on the water troughs; they dry up fast in Summers.
I thought that was that. Great prank. No big deal. Back to the day’s work.
Just two buddies having a grand time together, with no consequences to speak of.
Samson blows out a breath as he passes me a bowl he’s just washed. “I didn’t think that part through.” His eyes lock with mine. “I am so sorry. I’ll head to Austin’s tonight and assess the damage Aurelia’s probably caused, then I’ll do whatever I can to fix it.”
Damage?
Something about that word hurts more than I think it should.
So I force a smile and push my glasses up before I take my time wiping the bowl. “It’s fine. It doesn’t bother me. Unless it bothers you. In which case, I can go take care of it.”
Samson fixes me with a stern expression. “Highly discouraged.”
My mouth drops open. “I wouldn’t kill anyone.
Killing the only person I’d want to run through with my sparkly sword wouldn’t even do anything!
We both know Austin’s not the one telling people that we’re married, and I’d sooner stab myself than hurt Aurelia.
She’s innocent. Like a flower.” A happy little flower full of hope and dreams and love.
I wish I could be half so genuine.
If I were like her, I’d have confessed to Samson ages ago, unafraid that things would go poorly.
I’ve come all the way to another world just to stay the exact same coward I’ve always been, hiding behind something—anything—I can in order to avoid getting hurt.
People…scare me.
They always have.
And while the familiarity I have with the people in Gem Ridge helps, it doesn’t change who I am or how afraid I am of messing everything up. It’s just a matter of time before I run out of script and have to start living in a world with quests I haven’t practiced.
“You shouldn’t have to clean this up.” Samson’s head shakes. “It’s my fault. I started it.”
“Right,” I say. “But I didn’t stop it. And you gave me every opening to stop it. But I rambled an epic about our fictitious love story instead.”
He murmurs, “I very much appreciated how you kept punching Bruce in the story.”
I sniffle. “Thanks. I appreciated that as well.”
Wincing, Samson dries his hands on his shirt and cups my chin. “Please don’t cry, Lemonade.”
“B-but I’ve caused a problem for you.”
He shrugs his big beautiful shoulders. “Not really? I’m sure anyone Aurelia could have told this afternoon would be on board to mess with Austin, too.
His face turns the same color as his hair.
People love that about him.” Samson’s calloused thumb traces my jaw.
“Actually…this is a great opportunity to get the entire town in on the joke.”
The joke.
Marrying me is a joke.
Against my will, I start crying harder.
Samson tenses. With a subtle edge of urgency, he continues, “It’ll be great.
Hilarious. Everyone against Austin.” He mutters a swear.
“Now it really is bullying…” He swallows, lifting his other hand in a desperate effort to dry my tears.
Soothing, he says, “Please, Lemonade, talk to me. What’s going on? ”
My mouth opens, likely to babble the stupidest things in the whole entire world—but a little spark of nature freezes my tongue in place.
There’s a dip in my stomach. Followed by a tightness. And—oh no.
I shove the bowl I was drying into Samson’s hands, turn on my heel, and bolt to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
No.
No, no, no.
Nope.
It’s been six weeks.
I never exactly thought the words, Haha, nice! This world’s females do not partake of menstrual cycle heck, but I did experience an underlying assumption as more time passed and the usual dread I have a few days before my period starts did not hit me.
My pissy attitude last week…was PMS, not sleep deprivation. Or, at the very least, it was PMS irritated by sleep deprivation.
Panic vibrates in my chest, constricting my lungs.
A sudden bout of cramps twists my gut, and I choke on the pain, sobbing.
“Lemonade?” Samson calls from the door, panic touching his voice as well. “Citrus, is everything okay? Are you okay?”
“Um—” I take deep breaths, then I croak, “—no.”
What do I do?
What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?
My gaze drifts to the toilet paper.
Even if I fashion a pad out of that, who do I go to for a more permanent solution?
I can’t go to Aurelia, not with Austin around.
I haven’t seen Chrysa since I stopped intentionally bribing Samson.
Ines scares me a little bit. I don’t know if I can handle her on my own even though I have the most hearts with her according to my journal.
Kaolin’s a mother. Maybe…maybe her? We do have amicable chats whenever I stop in to drop off my produce.
My heart races at the very idea of going to a mother. You’re supposed to be able to rely on them. But that hasn’t been my experience. I was in school when I got my first period. I had no one to rely on. I thought I was dying. I went to the nurse and said I didn’t feel well. They called my mother.
She yelled at me the entire way home for pulling her out of work.
Then, when she finally let me explain through sobs what I thought was soo important I couldn’t just suck it up, she laughed at me. Told me she didn’t tell me about periods on purpose. Because she thought it’d be funny.
I—
I can’t.
Tears streak down my face while I grip my hair and fold over, staring at the floor. Pain stabs through me, and I close my eyes. Teardrops fall onto my glasses lenses.
Very stable, Samson’s voice calls for me again. “Citrus.”
I ground myself in it. Or, at least, I try to.
Peanuts and caramel.
One hundred percent caramel.
“Sweetheart.”
Sweetheart? My heart thuds.
Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.
“Are you bleeding?” he asks.
Embarrassed heat blazes to my cheeks, and I go perfectly statue stiff.
“It’s okay.” He whispers a swear that just barely makes it to me.
“You’re okay. That’s normal for women here.
I’m sorry. If I’d only thought to mention it…
just in case this isn’t the way things were in your old world.
I’m so sorry. Will you be okay for a few minutes while I go get Nes?
She’ll have medicine to help with the pain and everything else you’ll need. ”
When the pain stabs at me again, I say, “Please.”
And his footsteps leave me, running.