Chapter 9 #3
"Oops, must've been this new razor. It's really sharp," I say, reaching to touch it out of some morbid fascination.
"Stop! Oh my god, don't touch it with your dirty hands. You'll get an infection!" she practically shouts, pushing my hand away.
I laugh. "Lexi. It's totally fine. Men cut themselves shaving all the time!"
She ignores me, grabs a handful of toilet paper, and comes at me with it, then pulls back, eyes apprehensive.
"I'm not sure how to do this. I don't want to make it worse."
I smile. "Here, I'll show you." I take her hand, the one holding the toilet paper, and gently press it against the cut. Her voice drops as she watches the blood seep into the paper. "This really happens to you all the time?"
I nod, then hiss when the cut catches on the paper, and she pulls back, turning pale.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," I say, giving her a big smile. "It's not even as bad as a paper cut."
She scrunches up her face. "Oh, those things sting like a motherfucker."
I can't help chuckling at that. She so rarely curses. "Exactly."
"I get a lot of those. Paper cuts." She holds up her free hand, showing me the bandaid on her ring finger. I frown and take her hand in mine, examining it. "Was it deep?"
Her eyes lift to mine and she gives a single shake of her head. "No. I get them all the time."
"You should be more careful," I say, leaning in, my lips grazing her palm. With her hand against my cheek and my mouth against her palm, my breath grows heavy and slow.
"Does it still hurt?" she whispers, swallowing hard.
I want to tell her…it never stopped hurting. Her leaving, it never stopped hurting. And her being back just makes it worse. But that's not something I've ever even admitted to myself, let alone her. Instead, I say, "What?"
"Your cut,” she whispers, her hand wiggling in mine.
I'd almost forgotten why we were like this. Reluctant to move, I stand there breathing her in. "It should have stopped bleeding now. Thank you."
I should step back. Pull her hand away from my face. But I can't. She'll have to be the one who does it.
Which she does. Finally.
"All good?" I ask, with a soft smile.
She looks at my cheek, then flicks her eyes back to me. "I think so."
"It must've been your magic touch," I say. "It doesn't usually stop that quickly." And especially not with my heart beating this hard and fast, I want to add. But I don't.
She drops her head. "Sorry if I caused that."
"You didn't."
We reach for the door handle at the same time, and then she pulls back with a nervous laugh.
"I got it," I say, and pull the door open. She brushes past me, and I almost faint at the smell of my body wash on her skin again. Something about the thought that she still uses it sends desire shooting through every inch of my body.
"Lexi. Wait."
She stops right in the doorway, and I grab her hand. "Be more careful. No more bandaids."
She chuckles. "It's hard not to get paper cuts when I'm working with paper all day."
"Just try, okay? For me." What the fuck am I saying?
She smiles, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Fine. You too." Then she reaches out, as if to touch my cheek, but pulls her hand back before she makes contact. "I don't want to hurt you."
"You would never.” I catch her hand and pull it to my cheek anyway. "I just...wish I could've said the same thing about me."
That makes her breath catch. I let her hand fall away, and we step out of the bathroom into the hallway.
To where Rhys is standing. Fully dressed, hair still damp from his own shower, looking at the two of us coming out of the same bathroom in a cloud of steam.
"Morning," I say.
He doesn't say anything. His eyes just flick from her to me and back again. His face showing nothing of what he's thinking.
Alexia goes red, mutters something about being late, and disappears into her room so fast the door slams shut.
"Apparently household rhythm also applies to bathroom timetables," I joke.
Nothing.
I keep talking. "She was showering, I needed the sink, there was yelling, there was a hot water war, there was a towel handoff. Words were exchanged, blood was drawn. Just your everyday housemate chaos, right?"
I walk past him, patting his shoulder, then stop — might as well say the thing I've been thinking since we ran into her a few days ago.
"Look, I don't know what's going on with you and her.
But she's living here for three months, and you're acting like she's contagious.
You didn't used to be like this around her. "
"I don't know what you mean," he says.
"Bro, you know exactly what I mean."
Rhys looks at me for a long second, and something in his face settles into something unreadable. "She's Leon's sister."
"Yeah, I know, and?"
He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "You might want to start acting like it."
I feel my face harden. "What's that supposed to mean?"
He doesn't answer. Just holds my look for another beat, then leaves without another word.
My phone buzzes. I pull it out, half-annoyed, expecting Hunter with a time for our joint inspection.
"Still on for tonight, babe?"
Shit.
Not Hunter.