heel and stalks away.
18
Olivia
They didn’t offer me glue, but apparently, impalement by a foreign object gets bumped up on the list, so Arlo and I don’t even get the chance to sit down before we’re ushered back where they take my vitals and then lead me to a small, curtained-off space.
“We’ll need you to change into this gown, but you can leave your undergarments on if you’d like,” the male nurse tells me as he closes the curtain with a quick jerk that leaves multiple holes for those passing by to peek in.
I eye the ugly garment as Arlo moves forward and fixes the curtain, trying to shut out the numerous gaps. “I think I might need your help,” I tell him.
He turns to face me. “Should I filter all the innuendos that are stacking up?”
“Probably,” I admit. “And let’s pretend my underwear is a bathing suit, and this isn’t weird at all, deal?”
He smirks, making my request seem childish and unnecessary, as though I’m assuming Arlo freaking Kostas—starting running back and well-known flirt—is going to be checking me out.
I move my right arm in an attempt to free my left, and the movement, though slight, is accompanied by searing pain. Rose was right—I should have finished that drink.
Arlo recognizes my discomfort and moves closer, taking my shirt in his large hands and skillfully removing it from my uninjured side. He pauses, his gray eyes warm and patient as he looks at me. “I’m going to pull it over your head and then down your arm, so you don’t have to move and tug at the wound, okay?”
I suck in a breath, and I’m not sure if it’s because I’m nervous this might hurt, or because I can’t recall which bra I’d put on, or because Arlo is about to see me in it. Cold air dances across my bare skin, as the warmth of my shirt clears my head. Arlo looks at me, his eyes silently asking if I’m okay. I nod, sitting a bit straighter, so I don’t have a roll in my stomach, and he threads the shirt down my arm.
Arlo rubs his shoulder, looking over my head and at the wall and then the ceiling. “Still good?”
Is he embarrassed?
Does he not find me at all attractive?
Is this a sign of respect?
Rose says he’ll flirt with ladies old enough to be his mom, and he won’t take one fleeting look at me?
My bra is the color of merlot, lined with lace. It’s a long way from scandalous, but it’s neighbors to sexy. There are few things I care about, but I have a penchant for pretty underwear and good hair spray. The underwear is for me. Putting them on is like putting on my armor—they make me feel sexy and confident, even when sliding into class five minutes late in my sweat pants.
He finally looks at me when I refrain from answering, his eyes dipping to my chest and then instantly jumping back to my face. “Sorry.”
Did he just apologize for looking at my boobs? Or apologize for my boobs?
I’m sweating.
This is so uncomfortable.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you need help with your jeans?”
Even if I did, I wouldn’t be asking for it, not at this point. “No. I’ve got them.” I unfasten the button and zipper and stand, the pain in my side protesting.
I start to shove them down, using my left hand because moving anything on the right side of my body hurts.
Bathing suit.
Bathing suit.
Bathing suit.
I repeat this like a mantra in my head, focusing on this past summer when Sophia and I went skinny-dipping and were discovered by two different groups of boys who undoubtedly saw more than we’d intended, and though we claimed to be embarrassed, I think we both felt a bit emboldened for doing something so out of character and brazen.
“Here,” Arlo moves closer again, his hands at my waist. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” He threads his fingers into the waistband of my jeans, his flesh hot against mine. He slides my pants down, revealing my matching underwear and then jerks his chin toward the medical chair. “I’m not allowed to kneel, yet.”
I imagine him kneeling in front of me, the image verging on erotic. I shuffle to the table, the pain making me nearly forget how incredibly awkward this is. I sit down and straighten my legs. He catches one of my feet, his hands gentle as he slides the ballet flat off and sets it neatly beside the bed before doing