I smile. “Venti white mocha.”
“What the hell does that mean?” He looks utterly confused, and I chuckle at his expense.
“My Starbucks order. I want a venti white mocha with an extra shot and a blueberry muffin.”
“Wait, I didn’t agree on the muffin—”
I shoot him a look, challenging him to fall back on our deal.
“Fine,” he states between gritted teeth. “You play to bust balls.”
“It’s one of my best qualities,” I say with a cheesy grin.
“You have to actually be helpful, though, Vi. He’s going to be sore and on pain meds. Just make him some lunch and make sure he stays hydrated.”
“So, play Betty Crocker and greet his one-night stands at the door?” The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself.
He shakes his head at me with a knowing grin. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were secretly in love with each other.”
I nearly choke on my saliva.
“Relax, I was just kidding.” He pats me on the back. “Anyway, I gotta head out. The chief about had an aneurysm when I asked for a half day.”
He walks over and wraps his big arms around me, squeezing me so tight it hurts. I squeal and try to wiggle out of his tight grip. He’s always been so much bigger than me, and he knows how much I hate it when he hugs me like that because it’s painful. “Drew, stop!”
“You’re the best little sister ever.” He releases me, and before he walks out of the kitchen, he turns and smiles. “Thanks again. It means a lot to me, and I know it’ll mean a lot to him. He’ll appreciate the help, even if he doesn’t say it.”
When I hear the door click shut, I let out a deep sigh. As much as I should be keeping my distance while Travis is in this condition, I can't fathom the thought of him being alone all week while he's recovering.
I reach for my phone and text Courtney, letting her know the new plan. I’ll invite her over and allow her to drool over Drew one night this week.
Viola: Drew gave me his stupid begging eyes and bribed me with Starbucks. I’ve been voluntold to take care of Travis all week, but I’m not complaining.
Courtney: I could stare into Drew’s gorgeous eyes for hours. I can’t wait to come over and “visit.” It’s almost as if Drew is setting you up for “success” ... if you know what I mean.
Viola: Focus, Court. And gross. I’ll text you once he’s home.
I grab my bags and boxes and carry them out to my car. Returning to school tomorrow is almost bittersweet. After I place everything in my trunk, I head back to Drew’s room and wait. I sit on the edge of the bed, and fall back and stare at the ceiling. The realization that I’m going to be here between classes makes me feel more nervous than before about being around Travis. But seeing him bruised and broken is going to kill me.
I startle from the bed at the sound of the front door closing. I look around and realize I must’ve fallen asleep. I check my phone and see a few messages Drew sent letting me know they were on the way and they were almost home.
I can hear the faint sound of Drew’s voice followed by the muffled sounds of Travis’s voice. Moments later, a light knock taps against the door, and I sit straight up, hair a mess, and yell that it's open.
Drew cracks open the door. “Travis is in bed. He’s pretty tired, and I have to get to work. If he wakes up and needs something, can you help?”
“Does this mean house arrest begins now?”
“That’s a great idea. Maybe I can see about getting you one of those ankle bracelets for convicts so I can track your every move.”
I roll my eyes at him.
“Thanks, sis! You’re the best.” Drew winks before he shuts the door.
I try to concentrate on my breathing, but all I can hear are the hard beats of my heart. Standing up, I brush my fingers through my hair, then adjust my shirt and make sure I look completely unaffected before slipping out of Drew’s room. I walk the short distance down the hall to Travis’s room but stop before opening it.
I can’t believe how anxious I feel right now, seeing him for the first time since the hospital. I have no idea what he remembers or if he remembers me being there at all. I don’t know what to expect, considering our phone conversation was so short. The unknown has been hard and continues to drive me crazy.
Swallowing hard, I softly knock on the door.
“Come in.” I hear the weakness in his voice, and it takes everything in me to move my feet.
I push open the door and see Travis propped up on pillows. His face is slightly swollen and bruised, and it looks like he hasn’t slept in days, though that’s all he’s been doing for a week. I cringe when I study the bandages on his head where it smacked into the glass.
He watches my expression. “You should see the other guy.” His lips turn up in a cocky smirk.
I shake my head and lick my lips that suddenly feel dry. “I’m sure it was an unfair match.”
“Well, four thousand pounds of badass muscle car against an eighty-thousand-pound semi wasn’t exactly a fair fight, but hey, I live to tell the tale.” He smiles as if he’s trying to make me laugh and bring light to the situation, which it partially does, given the awkward circumstances.
“Well, I was really worried about you,” I say, taking a step inside but not getting too close. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” The concern is evident in my tone, and my poker face is quickly fading the more I look at him.
“Princess, come here.” His eyes are hooded, his voice sounding pained from my distance. My heart sinks, and I want to run to him and talk to him about everything, but my expression doesn’t change. My feet feel like they are glued to the floor, and I can’t move, not with his eyes on me, looking at me so intensely that it makes me weak.
“Is it safe?” I tilt my lips up slightly.
“I won't break,” he insists.
“Clearly.”
He pats his palm on the bed next to him.
“I don't want to hurt you, though,” I say, hesitating.
“Trust me. The only thing keeping me going the past couple of days was knowing I'd get to see your beautiful face and kiss your soft lips.”
“Well, I see the accident didn’t affect your ability to charm.”
“It’d take a lot more than that.” He winks.
I give in and sit on the edge of the bed next to him, careful to keep my distance.
“I know we should probably talk,” I begin, “but when you’re feeling better. You should be resting so you can get back to your cocky-ass self.”
“Let’s talk now,” he insists, pushing himself up higher on the pillows, but I can tell by the way he cringes that his body is still sore.
I shake my head. “When you feel better, we will. You’re all drugged up on pain meds.”
“It doesn’t have to wait. I’m fine.” He tries to brush off the pain, but I can see right through his bullshit.
“Really?” I give him a pointed look. “How many elements are in the periodic table?”