Bouncer by Kim Jones Page 0,22
glance at the shower. It’s a bad idea, but I’m willing to risk it. I know I’ll feel better once I’m clean.
“Apple?!”
My heartbeat picks up at the sound of Bouncer’s voice.
“Here,” I say, just as I feel his hands at my waist.
“What the fuck are you doing out of bed?” His tone is a bit too loud and I wince.
“Please don’t yell.”
“I’m not yelling,” he mumbles. “Let me help you.” He guides me to the toilet and tugs my panties down then lifts my shirt over my hips before helping me sit. “Fever must’ve broke. You’re drenched. Stay here. I’ll get the thermometer.”
I’m still peeing when he returns. It should be weird, but it’s not. The knowledge that he’ll soon leave and I won’t have to see his face every day helps. It also hurts. But instead of focusing on that, I imagine he’s a nurse’s aide and this is a hospital. It’s stupid, but it works.
He drags the thermometer across my forehead. When it beeps, I look up and he turns it around so I can read the digital screen as he reads it aloud.
“Ninety-eight point six. Perfect.”
Perfect.
Ha.
“I can’t smell, but I’m sure I stink,” I say, unrolling some tissue.
He bats my hands away and grabs it himself. “You don’t stink.” When he bends me forward, I stiffen. But I’m too weak to fight him.
“I can do that,” I rush to say, the memory of him doing it for me all the other times coming back and making me burn red with embarrassment.
“So can I.”
He’s an aide.
This is a hospital.
It’s normal.
I quickly change the subject. “I want a shower.”
“I’ll run you a bath.” He flushes the toilet and I straighten.
“But I don’t want a bath. I want a shower.”
He ignores me and leans over to turn the taps on, adjusting the water before plugging the tub. He straightens and grabs the hem of the T-shirt I’m wearing—his T-shirt—and starts to pull it over my head.
A sudden wave of defiance washes over me and I tuck my elbows in my side. “I just want a shower. If I take a bath, then I’ll be bathing in all that gross water. I want to feel clean. Is that too much to fucking ask?”
His pretty blue eyes harden. “Watch your mouth. You’re getting a bath because you can’t stand up in the shower on your own. And I don’t have time to shower with you. I have other shit to do.”
Oh.
I nod and drop my gaze. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He grabs my shirt and this time I let him pull it off me. He removes my panties and socks. I take his hand and allow him to help me in the tub.
The water is cool. It feels amazing. But I can’t enjoy it because I’m still hung up on his words. I have other shit to do. My eyes burn and I pinch them closed as he drops to his knees beside the tub.
“Lean your head—” He stops talking and cups my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and his hand falls away. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I’m fine. Just a bit emotional. I’ve got this. I’ll yell if I need you.” I force a smile and open my eyes. When I turn to look at him, he’s frowning. “Really. I’m okay. This is just…a lot.”
He nods. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. Go do what you need to.”
His eyes study me a few more moments before he stands. “Okay.” He walks out and I hear noise in the bedroom. Then a door opening. Closing.
He left.
“Bouncer?” I call out, tentatively. I’m answered with silence. “Well what fucking good would it do for me to yell out if I needed you if you’re just going to leave?” I ask the empty room, tears of frustration flowing down my cheeks.
I grab the cup off the side of the tub and pour water over my head. A minute of that and I give up, tossing the cup onto the floor and burying my face in my hands.
You did this.
You trusted him.
Now look at you….
Miserable and alone.
Like always.
“Shit.”
For a moment, I’m sure I didn’t hear anything. Then I feel hands pushing my hair back from my face. I just cry harder. Because I’m a big titty baby, starved for attention and desperate for affection.
“You have got to stop all this crying, sweetheart,” Bouncer says, pouring water over my hair. “You’re fucking killing me.” His hands disappear a moment then return, massaging shampoo into my scalp. “You going to tell