What's Left of Me
Page 34
“Paul Walker?”
“Woman, you’re relentless!” He makes his way up the bed so that he’s sitting next to me. He puts an arm around me and pulls me closer.
I’m shocked at his sudden gesture and freeze in his arms. He acts as if this is second nature, settling us in a more comfortable position. I half relax in his arms. This is not what I expected of him after our text conversation—or lack thereof.
“You feeling okay? Jason mentioned something about you not feeling too well, and then Genna said you were already in bed for the night when I got here.”
I shrug. “I must have caught some bug. I’m not sure you’ll want to be too close.” I move my hands to my head running my fingers over my hair. Suddenly I’m self-conscious and wonder if my wig is sitting funny because I didn’t snap the clips into place.
“Sorry, I wish you would have said something to me. I would have brought you chicken noodle soup or 7-Up.”
“Really? Chicken noodle soup?”
“Yeah, isn’t that what you’re supposed to have when you’re sick?”
I look over at him. His eyes show nothing but concern.
Shaking my head, I ask, “Where did you come from?” Men aren’t supposed to be this sweet and caring, are they?
This causes him to let out his deep belly laugh that I love so much.
“Umm, what are you doing here?”
“What? Want me to leave?”
“No!” I say quickly. Shit, I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch. “I just mean, why did you come over?”
“I didn’t have anything going on. Jason called me a couple hours ago asking if I wanted to come over and play poker. I asked if you would be here, he said yes, but it wasn’t until I got here that he said you weren’t feeling well, which explains all the short messages from you. I didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to see you.”
I blush, which, of course, Parker has to reach out and touch.
“I love this color on you. Red. You wear it beautifully.”
I tuck my head back down, trying to hide it. “Thank you.” I think.
We sit quietly, listening to each other breathing. It’s actually very peaceful. Listening to him. His heart beating. I close my eyes and enjoy the sounds mixing together. When I feel as if I’m drifting to sleep in Parker’s hold, he clears his throat.
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry, were you sleeping?”
“No. I’m awake.”
“Okay, sorry. I couldn’t tell.”
“It’s okay.”
“When did you have black hair?”
“Huh?” I ask, opening my eyes.
“That picture.” He points to my nightstand.
It’s me with my parents, Genna, Jason, and Jean celebrating my twenty-first birthday. I was pissed that I couldn’t go out and celebrate like someone turning twenty-one typically would, so I wore black hair to show my family just how pissed off I was.
That’s what I had done before I came here. I would wear different wigs to showcase my moods. Whether they were long, short, blonde, red, black, or highlighted, I always made them fit perfectly. I could hide behind them like a mask, and become anyone I wanted to be.
“Oh, um, that was on my twenty-first birthday.”
“Is that your parents with you?”
“Yes. That would be the good ol’ parentals.”
I shift and Parker eases his hold on me a little, letting me get comfortable. I hesitate a few times before I finally rest my head on his shoulder. I’m not sure if this is too much, or more than the normal dating body language, but it feels right. It’s comfortable.
“How come you don’t have more pictures around?”
I shrug. “I didn’t feel the need to bring them all. I brought a scrapbook, though, that my mom made me. Well, she started it and gave it to me as a graduation gift. I’ve slowly added to it over the years.”
“Where is it?”
“What?”
“I want to see it. Where is it?”
“Umm…” I trail off. I’m hesitant because I can’t remember if there are any photos of me in the hospital or without my hair. I don’t know why I was so foolish as to bring it up when I can’t remember what’s even in it. I don’t recall putting any of those types of pictures in there, as my mom made a separate journey album, but I can’t be sure.
“Come on.” He nudges me playfully.
“It’s over there,” I reply, pointing to the bookshelf in the corner.
Parker gets up from the bed.
“Don’t you have some poker to play?”
“Yeah, but I told the guys to play a round or two without me. I wanted to check on you.”
With his back to me, I quickly reach up inside my wig, clipping the few clips into place, letting out a small breath of air as I do.
Parker grabs the scrapbook and makes his way back to the bed, settling into the same position as before.
“Why did you want to check on me?”
“Why not?”
Why not? His words make me soften into him as he pulls me closer, giving me a kiss on the top of my head where his lips linger for a second longer than normal.
I watch as he flips through my pictures. He doesn’t say much aside from little comments here and there about cute I was as a kid, or how my freckles really pop in the pictures of me outside in the sun. I smile along with him at the happy memories.
“Woman, you’re relentless!” He makes his way up the bed so that he’s sitting next to me. He puts an arm around me and pulls me closer.
I’m shocked at his sudden gesture and freeze in his arms. He acts as if this is second nature, settling us in a more comfortable position. I half relax in his arms. This is not what I expected of him after our text conversation—or lack thereof.
“You feeling okay? Jason mentioned something about you not feeling too well, and then Genna said you were already in bed for the night when I got here.”
I shrug. “I must have caught some bug. I’m not sure you’ll want to be too close.” I move my hands to my head running my fingers over my hair. Suddenly I’m self-conscious and wonder if my wig is sitting funny because I didn’t snap the clips into place.
“Sorry, I wish you would have said something to me. I would have brought you chicken noodle soup or 7-Up.”
“Really? Chicken noodle soup?”
“Yeah, isn’t that what you’re supposed to have when you’re sick?”
I look over at him. His eyes show nothing but concern.
Shaking my head, I ask, “Where did you come from?” Men aren’t supposed to be this sweet and caring, are they?
This causes him to let out his deep belly laugh that I love so much.
“Umm, what are you doing here?”
“What? Want me to leave?”
“No!” I say quickly. Shit, I didn’t mean to sound like a bitch. “I just mean, why did you come over?”
“I didn’t have anything going on. Jason called me a couple hours ago asking if I wanted to come over and play poker. I asked if you would be here, he said yes, but it wasn’t until I got here that he said you weren’t feeling well, which explains all the short messages from you. I didn’t want to pass up an opportunity to see you.”
I blush, which, of course, Parker has to reach out and touch.
“I love this color on you. Red. You wear it beautifully.”
I tuck my head back down, trying to hide it. “Thank you.” I think.
We sit quietly, listening to each other breathing. It’s actually very peaceful. Listening to him. His heart beating. I close my eyes and enjoy the sounds mixing together. When I feel as if I’m drifting to sleep in Parker’s hold, he clears his throat.
“Hmm?”
“I’m sorry, were you sleeping?”
“No. I’m awake.”
“Okay, sorry. I couldn’t tell.”
“It’s okay.”
“When did you have black hair?”
“Huh?” I ask, opening my eyes.
“That picture.” He points to my nightstand.
It’s me with my parents, Genna, Jason, and Jean celebrating my twenty-first birthday. I was pissed that I couldn’t go out and celebrate like someone turning twenty-one typically would, so I wore black hair to show my family just how pissed off I was.
That’s what I had done before I came here. I would wear different wigs to showcase my moods. Whether they were long, short, blonde, red, black, or highlighted, I always made them fit perfectly. I could hide behind them like a mask, and become anyone I wanted to be.
“Oh, um, that was on my twenty-first birthday.”
“Is that your parents with you?”
“Yes. That would be the good ol’ parentals.”
I shift and Parker eases his hold on me a little, letting me get comfortable. I hesitate a few times before I finally rest my head on his shoulder. I’m not sure if this is too much, or more than the normal dating body language, but it feels right. It’s comfortable.
“How come you don’t have more pictures around?”
I shrug. “I didn’t feel the need to bring them all. I brought a scrapbook, though, that my mom made me. Well, she started it and gave it to me as a graduation gift. I’ve slowly added to it over the years.”
“Where is it?”
“What?”
“I want to see it. Where is it?”
“Umm…” I trail off. I’m hesitant because I can’t remember if there are any photos of me in the hospital or without my hair. I don’t know why I was so foolish as to bring it up when I can’t remember what’s even in it. I don’t recall putting any of those types of pictures in there, as my mom made a separate journey album, but I can’t be sure.
“Come on.” He nudges me playfully.
“It’s over there,” I reply, pointing to the bookshelf in the corner.
Parker gets up from the bed.
“Don’t you have some poker to play?”
“Yeah, but I told the guys to play a round or two without me. I wanted to check on you.”
With his back to me, I quickly reach up inside my wig, clipping the few clips into place, letting out a small breath of air as I do.
Parker grabs the scrapbook and makes his way back to the bed, settling into the same position as before.
“Why did you want to check on me?”
“Why not?”
Why not? His words make me soften into him as he pulls me closer, giving me a kiss on the top of my head where his lips linger for a second longer than normal.
I watch as he flips through my pictures. He doesn’t say much aside from little comments here and there about cute I was as a kid, or how my freckles really pop in the pictures of me outside in the sun. I smile along with him at the happy memories.
