Chapter 21
Simmons
The smell of honey and oranges wakes me up.
I inhale deeply first before opening my eyes and letting out a long breath. Not sure what to expect, it’s still the last thing.
Freddie, cross-legged on that creaky chair, peeling an orange with extreme precision whilst balancing his phone to watch something on the movable table lying over me.
He must see me gaping at him in confusion as he sets the orange down on the table in front of him and wipes his hands on a tissue while he keeps eye contact and presses pause on the show.
Then, his polished, pretty teeth are grinning at me.
He’s wearing an oversized black and white striped jumper.
It looks soft against his pale skin and hangs off his shoulder on one side.
His hair is wavy today and hanging just by his ears, which have little metal studs in them that are in the shape of barbed wire.
A look of uncertainty crosses his face before he speaks.
“I read somewhere that the scent of a freshly peeled orange can act as a stress reducer and mood booster.” He points to the fruit in front of me. I dip my head, smiling as I nod in understanding.
“I’m a volunteer,” he states matter-of-factly, which has me looking back at him.
He’s chewing his bottom lip, picking at his black nail polish while he waits for me to finally say something.
I clear my throat, but to what I’m about to say, I’m unsure.
Why are you here? Why are you a volunteer at the hospital I’m in? Are you wearing lip gloss?
“Uh, that’s a cool fact,” I tell him like a fucking idiot. He gives me a signature Freddie smirk, his shoulders relaxing a little. Okay, we are both bad at this.
“Freddie…” I start, but he has me beat.
“I didn’t know you were here. I promise I am not a stalker. God, could you imagine if I were crazy! Like following you and taking care of you like some sort of twinky Annie Wilkes?” I chuckle at his instant referral to a psychotic stalker.
“I didn’t think you were a crazy Annie Wilkes twink stalker, Freddie. I was actually wondering why on earth you’re volunteering in a city hospital where I live when I thought you had flown in to come to that expo?” He nods thoughtfully at my question, my joke ignored.
“I’m sorry, I thought I told you I lived here,” he responds. Wait, what? I’m sure I would have remembered that. There’s no way he told me that. We could have met up if that had been the case.
“I’m sure if you had mentioned it, I would have suggested meeting up,” I tell him honestly.
What I wouldn’t have given to have spent some time with him in my home, God, in my bed. Regret at not asking more about him at the expo floods my senses, and I hate that the crash could have been it for me and I would have missed my chance with this enigmatic boy.
“Oh… I think I was just too horny to be fair when we met. I definitely wasn’t thinking straight after that meeting in the locker room or in the conference room.
To be honest, right after too,” he admits, a smirk tugging at his lips.
He’s thinking about what we did. I can tell from how blown his pupils are in the late afternoon light.
“So, anyway. How are you feeling?” he leans forward and opens the orange, sitting one half in front of me and taking the other for himself. We eat and I tell him about my injuries, how long I should be here and what they’ve given me for the pain. He nods along, eating and smiling.
It’s nice. I forgot the loneliness that had consumed me over the weeks leading up to the holidays.
How I hated and loved my own company. How I had stayed away from anywhere that wasn’t my local grocery store or work.
It hurt to watch families, couples, and others celebrate togetherness at this time of year when I knew what lay at home for me was my record player and my laptop with several tabs open on different articles from Freddie’s blog.
“So, my shift starts in like twenty minutes, but I can swing by tomorrow again, if you like?” Freddie’s sweet accent drags me from my almost melancholy state, and I nod. “Yeah, I’d like that. Thanks for stopping by; it was nice.”
“Yeah, nice. Well, I better go get changed, big bear,” he tells me as he gets up and grabs his bag that was hanging off the back of the chair. He throws it over one shoulder. “Just my volunteer scrubs in here, no latex, I promise,” he winks as he pats the side of the bag.
“You’re a brat, you know that?” I growl playfully at him. He just shrugs, telling me he’ll drop by tomorrow, then he’s off. I watch him leave, then watch through the window of the ward as he takes off waving hello’s to different staff and swaying his curvy hips until he’s out of sight.
Lying back, I wonder how we got to this point.
When I’m with Freddie, I constantly forget my Dom status and let myself be seen.
The real me, not the one in charge. The one that makes the rules and dishes out punishment.
He’s managed what no other sub ever has.
He got inside my head, wriggled in there like a worm, and refused to leave.
A nurse comes by soon after and informs me of a scan that my doctor has ordered.
It drags out, and it’s hours before I find comfort on the hard clinical bed with a half-finished meal and my book.
I curse when someone comes by with forms that need signing and I realise that my writing hand is the one in a cast, which makes it awkward.
Then, I’m alone again, awaiting results and listening to the soft snores of the other patients in the room.
My mind slows down, and soon sleep takes me under.
Dreams of orange trees, black nails and warmth take over, leaving my injured body relaxed for the first time in days.