Chapter Thirty-One: "The Babysitters."
"NO. NOPE, nope, nope, nope, nope!"
"Hey, I don't want to do this just as much as you don't want me to see you topless." He growls, and I roll my eyes.
"I don't care! Go get Landon or Lance here. I don't trust your grimy hands."
"Just shut up and let me change your stupid bandages."
"No."
"Brooklyn, stop being so difficult!"
"No!" I hiss. "Go get Lance or Landon, Louis."
"Dude, I'll be legit five minutes tops."
"You hate me. Knowing you, you'll purposely leave me open for infection or add some dirt."
He gives me an incredulous look and rolls his eyes. "Stop being a whiney bitch and take your God damn shirt off before I grab out the scissors."
"Your threats don't scare me."
"Fine." He shrugs, and walks to the side of the bed. "I knew this was going to happen." I can't see him since he walked behind me and I'm laying on my side, so I have no idea what he's doing. Did he actually bring scissors?
When I feel him grab my hands, I immediately realize that he did not bring scissors.
A cold metal object is placed around my arms and I jerk away, my back stinging in the process.
"No! No!" I shriek, but he doesn't budge. By the time my cries reach his ears, it's too late.
The handcuffs are already placed around my wrists and I'm being flopped on my belly.
Where the hell did he get handcuffs from?!
"I tried to reason with you," he huffs, and drops the first aid kit beside me and jumps up, situating himself halfway on the small of my back and the other on the top of my butt. Surprisingly, for as skinny as he is, his butt isn't bony. "But I knew this was going to happen and you left me no choice!"
"You're a jerk."
"And there's an infinite amount of words I could call you but it'd be considered harassment." He deadpans, gently peeling off my bandages from last night. Apparently they did a draw, and whoever pulled the shorter straw had to take care of me in the morning. I guess the loser wouldn't be so annoyed with having to do it if they didn't have to do it at seven in the morning before catching the bus.
When he's done, he gets off me and softly undoes the handcuffs, helping me place my shirt back over my head. Surprisingly, he was very gentle. He got off when he needed to go around my hands instead of sitting on them, and actually didn't come up with inappropriate innuendos whenever he needed to sit on my bum more.
"See, now was that so hard?" He asks rhetorically, and I roll my eyes.
"Thanks." I reply.
"Yeah, don't get used to it." He scoffs. "I'll see you later, bus will be here soon." He walks towards the stairs, but I stop him.
"You're not that bad." I say quietly.
He smirks. "I know. You're not that annoying, either." And walks out.
***
I slept the day away.
I had nothing to do besides watch TV and scroll through my phone, which got boring quite quickly. My chores were being taken from the boys, and I had no one to talk to considering the McGibbon brothers were at school and all my friends from LA were in class.
I groan when I finally wake up from my slumber, and lazily check my phone.
I nearly scream from the pain that runs down my back when I shoot up.
It's three thirty and I've spent eight hours sleeping?
"Landon!" I scream.
I know I told him to not ditch, but I knew he wouldn't listen to me. He and Lucas ended up staying home today since Lucas seemed to be running a slight fever. The poor twin not only has a girl who had a bear interrupt her personal bubble, but also his baby brother is probably getting the early case of the flu that runs at the beginning of the school year.
I see his figure climb up the stairs and I gasp in relief. "What?"
"It's already three! Grab my shirt and those army green pants and help me put it on." I order. It's at least a half hour to get into town, and that's not including the traffic that comes with the afternoon. The peak of rush hour isn't until five, but it starts around three with all the fast food chains changing shifts.
He laughs. "Wait, why?" and then, "Wait, pants too?"
"We need to leave soon." I say confusedly. "And no, just the shirt, thanks."
"Oh." He shrugs, and walks over, grabbing a black tank top and helping me put it over my head. "Jesus, how the hell do you work this thing?" He grumbles out. It has an 'x' cross over at the back and he's somehow managed to get my head stuck in the wrong part even with my assistance.
"You called?"
I snap my head to the right, and see the other twin walking up the stairs.
Damn it.
"You dirty little dog!" I gasp out, and reach around to slap Liam on the back of the head.
"Ouch!" He grunts. "Slap me all you want, Cupcake, but shit, not the cast!"
"Get out!" I exclaim.
"Alright, alright," he says, throwing his arms up in surrender. Landon slaps Liam on the back in a brotherly way and walks up to the bed.
"Need help?" He asks amusedly with a smirk. I nod sheepishly and he chuckles, reaching over and helping put my head in the right holeâinnuendo not intended.
"Thank you." I say after we're done. He nods, giving me a smile. "Um. . . my pants. If you could turn around or leave or something, that'd be great."
It was really hot throughout the morning after the boys left, so I ridded myself free of clothes and slept in my bra and underwear.
He chuckles then smirks, turning around and staring out the window that overlooks the lake. I shift on the bed and wait a few moments to make sure he doesn't peek. When I'm sure I'm in the clear, I lean down with my skinny jeans in hand and reach down for my ankles.
Only to groan in pain. I should have thought this through. "You okay?" Landon asks.
"Yeah," I hiss through gritted teeth. "I'm okay, stay turned around."
I struggle to pull the pants over my thin legs, and groan when I haul myself off the bed to wiggle into the tight fabric. "Jesus," I huff out when I'm done. "You can turn around now."
I hear him shuffle around, and I grab my purse from my nightstand and put my phone and medication in it. The doctor wanted me to bring in the prescription during the last session for what antidepressants I'm using since I struggle to pronounce it. I didn't think they were relevant in that one session, but apparently I was wrong.
"You look hot in blue." Landon states, and I snap my head to him, giving him a strong glare. "What? It makes your tan look nice."
"You peeked!" I gasp. "You're to not be trusted!"
He rolls his eyes incredulously. "No, I did not. Your thong is peeking out on your hips, Blue. Don't be so quick to judge."
I look down and my face floods in embarrassment and I sheepishly pull up my jeans and tuck my underwear in the waistband.
"I'm not lying, though, you look great in blue."
"Thanks." I say harshly. "Now come on, I need to go before I'm late and the jerk starts nagging at me."
He laughs, nodding and helping me walk down the steps. We enter the white truck he picked me up with the other night, and drive off towards the psychiatrist office.
Thirty minutes and an additional twenty in traffic and we're pulling into the parking lot of the Wicked Witch of Bossiness and Nosiness.
"Um, my sessions are usually an hour long. You can do whatever." I tell him, and give him a thankful smile as I open the door and close it, leaning over the window to talk to him.
"I'll just stick around, I have nothing better to do." He replies with a smile, and I nod, tapping twice on the metal and limp towards the door. "Want assistance?" He asks after a second.
"Yeah, please." I laugh. "I have no pain killers left."
He steps out of the car and trots around to my side, wrapping his arm supportively around my waist. To a stranger, we look like a non-showing pregnant woman whose feet are killing her and her supportive S.O. is helping her out like the gentleman he is.
We slowly make our way to the doors and Landon and I walk through the hallway that leads to Dr. Boise's office. I open the door, and she starts speaking while shuffling through paperwork.
"Oh, great! I hope you rememberâ" she rants, but stops. "Oh, I didn't know you were bringing someone."
"I'm not, he's just nothing but helping me." I tell her, and Landon helps me to the long couch that the clients lay down on. Yes, those things are very much real. When the couch is too hard for comfort, I sigh. "Change of plans. Help me to my belly."
He rolls his eyes playfully and does as asked without any complaining. I gotta give him creditâJustin and Johnny would be a pain in the butt if they had to do this constantly.
"What happened?" Doctor Boise asks.
I adjust myself on the couch and sigh. "Nothing big, just a bear."
She gasps, so soft I could have mistaken hearing it. "Shouldn't you be at home resting, then?"
"No," I grumble out, "I'm fine. It was only an exploratory scratch. No harm done."
"That is, unless it gets infected." Landon butts in, and I glare at him. "Let's be honest, Blue, you refused the hospital! My mom's a lawyer, not a doctor."
"Doesn't feel infected." I state.
"You won't just feel an infection, genius." He laughs. "But it'll hurt like a bitch."
"I'm sorry, but who are you?" Boise interrupts. "Brooklyn, family and friends aren't allowed in during our sessions."
"Like I said, he's nobody, he's here to help me up in this chair and then get me out of it." I say blankly. "Now let's hurry this up, there's a very uncomfortable bed calling my name."
"Right," she agrees. "Thank you for helping her. There's a waiting area outside you could situate yourself in. It should only be an hour."
"Pfft, lady please. I'm not sitting in those chairs for an hour! I could just go to Sears and chill there for sixty minutes."
I laugh, and Landon winks at me. Macy turns her head to give me a stern look. "Make your boyfriend leave."
"He'sâ"
"Right, boyfriend is leaving now." Landon salutes. "Bye babe, I'll see you soon!"
Before I can even fight with him, he's out the door. Boise turns back to me and cracks her neck. "Now, where were we?"
***
"Easy, Blue, don't want to wear yourself out too much." Landon tells me as we climb up the stairs to my room. For some reason, my back hurts even more now, and now I understand why I was forced on bedrest. Moving around the marks and stuff really does make it hurt more, and maybe I should start taking Ella's words as words of wisdom.
"I'm not purposely doing it," I grumble. "I can't help it that you're a shitty helper."
"Hey, don't shoot me now," he protests, "I'm the one who's helping you out, here."
"You and four other boys." I deadpan. "You're all my babysitters for the next few days. Do you remember the others?"
"Yeah, well, out of all four I'd say I help quite often." He points out. "More than any other."
"That's your decision."
"True."
"So, where is everyone? I didn't see anyone when we came in."
He helps me on the bed, and before I can argue, he's helping me take my shirt off. "Lance and Lucas went to the library to look for a book for Lucas to bring to read to his class so he can do his Read Aloud when he's feeling better, and the other two idiots I don't really know. Frankly, I don't care."
"What an affectionate twin and role model, you are." I tease, tossing my shirt to the basket a few feet away from my bed.
"I try my best." He kids, and I laugh. There's a silence as I lay down, and Landon follows suit, laying close, but not enough where it's considered a break in privacy. He keeps his distance. "You know, your bed really is uncomfortable."
"I know." I sigh. "Try sleeping in it for a month."
He laughs. "I'll pass. But, you know, you can always sleep in my bed. It's available, and quite more comfy and soft than this."
"I'll pass on the offer, but hey, I may take you up on that if I don't order a new one anytime soon." I wink playfully, and I think he took me seriously because he has this dark glint in his eye that shows a hundred percent desire. He smiles down at me, and for some unknown reason, my head finds its way onto his chest.
"You're shivering," he whispers.
"I don't sleep often, and these sheets are very thin." I murmur back.
He wraps his arm around me cautiously yet casually, and I allow him. It feels nice to be cared for every so often, even if that means it's only because I'm injured.
Our heads are now touching, his on top of mine and I can feel his heart beat racing against his chest. Did I do that to him? How I ended up closer to him, I don't know, but I feel myself enjoying his warmth.
It brings me a deep sense of comfort and safety, but he's also warming up my body like an oven; something the comforter I'm supplied with clearly can't do.
I fight against it. I fight against it so hard, but I think the exhaustion from being up all night in pain and moving around a lot today and the therapy has me drained, and I feel my eyelids grow heavier by the second.
Soon enough, my breathing slows and grows even, and I fall into a deep, peaceful sleep I haven't had in days.