Her gaze followed me as I stood, towering over her, the moonlight illuminating her pale skin even without the help from my flashlight that I kept trained on at her foot. Her chest heaved, the swells of her breasts rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
I swallowed.
“Towel?”
She pointed behind me, and I swiped the towel that laid draped over the arm of the sectional, clicking off the flashlight before leaning down to wrap her in the cloth.
“Put your arm around my shoulder,” I instructed when I had the towel securely around her.
She clutched the corners together where they met at her side and slung her other arm over me, letting me lift her into my arms. The towel didn’t cover all of her, and I felt her wet skin against the thin fabric of my shirt as I cradled her. I hadn’t thought to throw on my coat when I heard her screaming, just ran toward the sound, toward her, and now she was naked and clutching onto me as if she was afraid I’d drop her.
I tightened my grip on her, one on her thigh and the other holding her shoulders, and she simply stared up at me, trembling, big eyes locked on mine which I kept focused on the cabin behind her.
The music I’d heard faintly on her porch assaulted us as soon as I pushed through the door to her living room, and I frowned at the noise, setting her carefully on the couch before scanning the room for the source. I recognized the song, Pony by Genuine, and it echoed through her cabin as she sat soaking wet on the couch wrapped in a towel that was too small.
But while I was focusing on fighting a hard on from all the naked touching, she was fighting back a smile, and it didn’t take long for her to fail. She threw her head back, mouth wide as she laughed so hard her hands clutched her stomach. As I watched her, an unfamiliar sensation warmed my throat. I think I wanted to laugh too, but it was like I’d forgotten how.
When she lifted her head again to peek up at me through watery eyes, she only laughed harder—probably because I was about as charismatic as a brick wall.
“I’m sorry,” she said over the music, wiping at her eyes as she pointed toward the fire to a small barrel table where the speaker sat.
I moved quickly, cutting the song off right at the chorus, and then it was silent.
For a moment I stood there, the new quiet blanketing the two of us, making the cabin feel smaller, us closer. Water dripped from her hair down to the edge of the towel clutched to her chest, and I tore my eyes away, willing myself to focus.
She was bleeding. She was hurt.
The hardwood floor creaked under my boots as I walked behind where she sat on the couch and into the kitchen. It wasn’t my first time in Abdiel’s cabin, and I was thankful when I found his first aid kit where I remembered him stowing it last summer.
“I didn’t even know I had one of those,” she said when I returned.
I kept my eyes on my hands, taking the seat near where her feet rested. One of the neighborhood cats I’d seen around Momma Von’s sat perched on the arm next to me, and he croaked out a meow as the cushion dipped, scampering away to the porch and leaving the two of us alone.
I chanced a glance at her as I popped the lid on the kit, and her cheeks flamed.
“You don’t have to do that,” she said meekly as I pulled out a roll of gauze and medical tape. “I’m fine, really.”
“It’s not that deep,” I answered. I felt the need to comfort her, to ease her embarrassment and make sure she was okay, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to talk to her. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t need stitches. You don’t, but it’s going to be tender for a while.” My eyes slipped to where a pair of red-bottomed heels lay sprawled on the floor, and I quirked a brow. “Won’t be wearing those for a while.”
My eyes caught hers, and though I was trying to tease her, I wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cower away. She was just staring at me, specifically at my eyes, and so I looked at hers, too. They were evergreen.
She swallowed when my hands moved to her ankle. I cradled it in my lap, fingers brushing the soft skin stretched over her delicate bones as I cleaned the cut with a cloth I’d soaked in hot water before wrapping it in gauze and taping it securely, not too tight.
“Thank you,” she whispered, wiggling her toes.
I lifted myself from the couch with the first aid kit in hand. I sniffed, replacing the kit in the kitchen. I didn’t know what else to say, so instead of stopping at the couch again, I walked straight past her and back out onto the patio.
“Wait!” Her voice squeaked as she hopped up from the couch, limping over to the doorframe with the towel still wrapped around her. I bent to retrieve the flashlight and turned, waiting. “What’s your name?”
She was beautiful.
I don’t know why I chose that moment to notice it, when she was waiting for me to answer her. I stood like an idiot, scowling because that was how my face rested, not that I could help it. It’d been stuck like that for more than six years.
“Anderson,” I finally answered.
“Anderson,” she repeated on a breath. I loved the way my name sounded when it rolled off her tongue. “I’m Wren.”
I watched her for a moment longer, willing myself to say something—anything. But instead I cleared my throat and nodded, clicking on the flashlight and trailing down the stairs of her back porch without looking back until I was out of her yard and back in the Morrisons’. I could see the faint outline of her through the trees where she still stood in the doorway, eyes on where I’d disappeared through them. She smiled, mouthing something that looked like Nice to meet you, too. Then she turned and limped back inside.
BILLET-DOUX
bil·let–doux
Noun
A love letter
The sun warmed the bedroom too early the next morning, and I grumbled, kicking the covers off to plant my feet hard on the floor. I winced against the pain from my forgotten injury, rotating my ankle a few times before testing how much pressure I could put on the wound. It was tender alright, but nothing too severe.
Rev opened one eye from his corner of the bed as I padded over to click off the small heater and opened the back door to let in the fresh morning air.
“Morning, Rev,” I croaked, throat raw, but he just closed his eye again and went back to sleep.
I massaged my temples with my fingertips and groaned again, stopping in front of the dresser mirror.
I couldn’t have been more of a hot mess.
My hair was a ratted nest from the hot tub, tied up high on my head, screaming for a bird or two to find a new home. I’d stripped out of my new leggings and sweater at some point in the night and standing in just my lacy boy shorts, it was easy to see I’d taken more of a beating than I realized in what was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life.
There were spots of dried blood dotted on the shin of the leg opposite my injury, probably from when Anderson carried me inside, and bruises had already formed on my thighs, hips, and forearms from the fall. I wiped at the dark circles under my eyes with a pathetic laugh, head throbbing as I scratched behind Rev’s ear on my way into the bathroom.
I felt marginally better after I’d showered, applied a full face of makeup, and popped two ibuprofen. I settled in on the back porch with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll, eyes on the broken board that had led to my demise the night before. I’d have to fix it like I’d promised Abdiel, but I had no idea how, so I just stared at it instead.