Ch. 29 Fraternizing With The Enemy
I am sitting in my wheelchair, the seat digging into my buttocks. Every time I so much as move an inch, it feels like a spike is being driven into my hip joint.
The concussion still makes my head hurt, though the medicines are helping—or it could be the sleep.
I feel more human than I have in days.
The parking lot is nearly empty. Marcus wheels me towards a sleek white car, taking care to move as gently and smoothly as possible.
My butt appreciates it deeply.
After the oppressive silence of the hospital, this silence in the parking lot is strangely freeing.
The sun is dipping low, casting everything in a soft golden hue.
Marcus walks to the car, arms spread wide, grinning like an idiot. It tugs on my heart.
His dark hair catches the light, highlights of spun gold creating a halo. His blue eyes glow with flecks of the amber sun, and I'm mesmerised.
"Meet my baby—Berta! Berta, meet Celeste!"
I'm pulled out of my reverie by the introduction. I can't help but grin.
"Why, Berta! You're beautiful! Such a glow! I can tell Marcus takes good care of you. It's nice to sit in you!"
Marcus blinks in surprise, before returning my grin with a laugh.
"You've met your match, Berta!"
He wheels me to the passenger side and opens the door, helping me inside. He collapses the wheelchair and puts it in the back seat before getting into the driver's side and starting the car.
It's only after we've been on the road for a few minutes that I realize we aren't heading towards my house.
"Hey, my house is that way!" I point towards the road going left and Marcus gives me a confused look.
"I know."
Argh. "Then why are we headed away from there?!"
"Because we can't go to your place. We're going to mine."
"You can't be serious right now! I've been in the hospital for nearly a full day. I feel gross. I just want to go home."
"Berta, tell Celeste why that's not possible."
"Berta, tell Marcus I DON'T CARE."
He snorts and pulls to the side. "Celeste, your apartment is on the fourth floor. Fourth. Without an elevator. How do you propose to get there? Do you expect me to princess carry you all the way? Hang you off a crane and pull you up?"
I scoff—he's being a bit extreme.
"Even if that were possible, I wouldn't risk it. At all. You should see your face anytime you have to put weight on your leg. So we're going to mine. My apartment complex has two elevators. And it's closer to the hospital."
"Well, I could stay at Ella's."
"You do remember they're newlyweds, don't you? Do you want to see the things they get up to?"
I swallow. That visual has me cringing.
"Legend would be happy to take me in."
He laughs. "Haven't you seen Legend and Kenneth together? There's a reason we don't hang out at any spot they're too comfortable in."
He's right. They're worse than Keith and Ella.
"Fine. Kyle, then."
He fully turns to me, eyes narrowed. "You must really have a death wish."
I swallow nervously. I can feel heat creeping up my neck. "Why would you kill me?"
"Not me—Frany. You and Kyle both—although I'm not sure if I would stand by and watch or join her in the fun."
I gasp. He wouldn't!
He turns back to the front and starts the car again. "So unless you want to burn your eyeballs or die entirely, my house is the safest and best option."
I don't have anything left to argue with, so I sit in petulant silence all the way home.
—---------------------
We arrive at an apartment complex—it's pretty.
The car moves in through wrought iron gates. The building itself has stone embellishments and old-world charm—upscale without feeling untouchable.
Once he parks Berta, he helps me into the wheelchair and takes me upstairs.
I'm not sure what I was expecting, but Marcus's home is neat, well kept and lived in.
There's a whole wall filled with books, medals and photographs. It reminds me of his dad's house—it feels like a shrine.
The colors are warm browns and beiges, but I can spot random colors in random places that tell me he doesn't care too much about style. There's a threadbare throw on the couch that looks vaguely familiar.
There's a lovely kitchen to the side.
We pause in the passage.
"Uh, do you need to freshen up? I can get you a wet towel if you want to wipe down..."
"Um, yeah, I'd appreciate that. Actually, I'd love a shower."
He wheels me towards the ensuite. It's huge, with plenty of space for the wheelchair.
He then brings out a T-shirt and boxers, which he hands me. The T-shirt is soft and worn—and the boxers seem new.
"These are the smallest clothes I have. I'm waiting outside the door. Holler if you need anything. BE CAREFUL."
He steps out and shuts the door behind him.
I get up gingerly and nearly groan out loud. Some sound definitely escapes because Marcus calls out—
"Everything okay in there?"
"Not dead yet!" I call back, although with the throbbing in my head and the spikes in my leg, I feel half dead already.
I pull up my hair into a bun and put on a shower cap Marcus has generously provided. I towel off my face gently first—careful not to irritate the stitches—before stepping into the hot shower.
The soap and water sting the hundreds of tiny bumps and scratches across my body, but the warm water finally unknots my muscles.
I inhale deeply and enjoy the water for a few minutes before toweling off.
I put on the T-shirt and boxers.
At 5'7", I'm definitely not short, but how tall is Marcus that his T-shirt is more of a dress for me?
His boxers are more like bermudas and I have to really tighten the drawstrings to make sure they don't fall off.
A knock sounds. "Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm coming out now."
—-------------------
I don't know what I was expecting to see, but Celeste—in my clothes—knocks my breath away.
I freeze in place, pulse pounding in my veins and temperature rising.
She limps out pushing the wheelchair. "I'm going to try walking for a bit at home."
Home. Celeste calling my little flat home hits a chord deep within me.
I clear my throat.
"Sure."
I take the towels from her. She's forgotten to take off one thing though.
I pull the wheelchair aside and step closer, gently taking off the shower cap.
"Oh!" She raises a hand to her head and it bumps with mine.
Her skin is warm and moist.
Her breath mingles with mine and a deep blush colors her cheeks. I'm sure mine are starting to heat up too.
"Ella says she's really sorry she couldn't get your go-bag today," I inform Celeste while trying to take my mind off how her skin feels.
"She just texted me a few minutes back. She's promised to drop by with your things tomorrow morning."
She nods, refusing to meet my eyes. "That's fine. I know she's busy... I'm sorry you're having to handle all communication. This no screens rule sucks."
"Happy to do it." My voice is hoarser than it should be. I need to get out of here.
I jump up with her soiled towels and old clothes. "I'll get them laundered."
I whirl around and something slips out.
Lingerie. It's red.
She gasps. I swallow—hard.
My cheeks are on fire. I bend down with my eyes closed, grab it off the floor and run out like the hounds of hell are at my feet.
"Wait!" She calls after me, but I don't stop. I'll be back after I go hide these things.
I need a minute. A long minute.
—--------------
I sit on the bed, in the middle of the room while he runs off like a little boy.
I huff loudly, choosing to ignore entirely how I'm blushing like a teenager myself.
His t-shirt rubs against my skin—it feels like butter. My flush deepens.
I can smell him on these clothes, and it makes my heart flutter.
How am I going to last the next two days with Marcus—alone?