Never Been Kissed(22)

I move to him, hands shaking as I reach to feel for his breath with a finger under his nose. Breathing, even. Pulse, steady. I take his sugar again, unaware of anything else around me. Bruce Banner could Hulk-out and I wouldn’t even notice.

Fourteen. Still at fourteen. Thank you baby Jesus.

Despite the wave of relief, my stomach becomes a vortex of doom, swirling, twisting and I have seconds to get to the toilet before I spew chunks everywhere. I retch into the toilet, tears leaking out of my eyes. The poor kid, poor Matty.I moan into the bowl, let the echo crash against my ears. I want my books, I want my movies. I’m not made for real life, I’m not strong enough for this.

A cold cloth gets placed on my forehead. Startled out of my misery, I glance up from my stomach’s contents and burn with humiliation as I realize Hunter’s in my bathroom, probably having watched me throw up.

I want to die now, please.

I take the damp cloth and wipe my mouth, letting my head sit on my forearms. Opening my eyes, I watch Hunter settle cross-legged in front of me, blocking out my view of the sink. He’s too big in here, taking up too much space, demanding my attention. I can’t stop the shakes, the coolness of my bathroom tiles somehow seeping into my bones. My jaw cracks, my throat burns.

“What’s the number?” Hunter asks quietly. The gentle tone undoes me. I was used to his moods, his harsh words, his accusatory tone. Brashness I can handle. Gentleness is another kind of torture – one you desperately want to believe, but try to convince yourself not to.

“Fourteen. He has fourteen. I only gave him two units ‘cause I didn’t know how he’d react. Plus, kids; metabolisms are quicker than ours, and I didn’t want to give him too much and bring it too low and then go to the hosp-”

Hunter grabs my hand, puts us palm to palm. My heart ratchets up another level of speed, thudding hard at the base of my throat. I don’t know what to do. Ignore it?

“You took great care of him.” His eyes rove over my face, pop down to my shirt then back up. He’s got that little smile again. My hand still in his, he brings it to his mouth, placing a kiss on my knuckles. My heart squeezes and it’s hard to breathe. “Thank you.”

I nod, throat too tight to speak, body clamouring for something else together. Jesus, brain, get a grip. This roller-coaster ride of emotions is screwing with you.

“Thank you for watching him for me. Thank you for taking care of him. For checking on him. For worrying about him,” Hunter says against my knuckles, and those prehistoric butterflies are fluttering against my insides, and I’m acutely aware that I’m nearly-naked in front of him. He’s in full-view of my giant legs and ass, and I have no bra on and- he doesn’t look repulsed, and he doesn’t look like he’s going to run away screaming either.

Saying you’re welcome might be an asshole thing to do, so I keep my mouth shut.

Hunter pulls me to my feet, sets me in front of the sink, hands at my hips. Fingers aren’t digging into my roundness there, just placed lightly on my skin and bones. The shakes have stopped, but my skull feels like it’s been stuffed full of cotton. I brush my teeth with him standing behind me. When I’m done, Hunter pulls me away from the sink, rinsing out the washcloth himself.

My throat aches not just from tossing my cookies, but because, in his own way, Hunter’s taking care of me.

“Come on, let’s get Matty awake, and we’ll go get breakfast.” He says to my reflection. The sight of him behind me has my whole body tingling, wanting, needing.

My eyes bug out, meet his in the mirror. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

He shrugs, a gentle motion of the bulk of his shoulders. “You fed him. I’m going to feed you. We’ll be even.”

Unease settles in the pit of my stomach. I’m too tired to fight right now. My muscles tremble with each step I take, my eyes weighed down with fatigue. I just want to sleep for hours, days, even. The last twenty four hours have changed me.

I watch Hunter place his huge palm – a palm that I touched and held!- around Matty’s shoulder, leaning close to his little body, crouched against the sofa. Matty wakes up slowly, eyes cracking open and closing once more, still stuck in dreams.

I hold my breath as he slowly wakes up. I’m so tired, my skin feels wrong for my body, my eyes itch, and I think I’m starting a headache. After all the stress of the day, I’m starving. Breakfast sounds like the best idea in the world.



***



Barely six am, and Hunter drove us to Chandra’s, a nearby diner that I didn’t know existed in this area. The diner has six or seven locations around the city and makes the best pancakes. I might eat three or seven.I sit in the vinyl booth, stomach rumbling, while Matty leans his head on my stomach to listen better. He giggles some more when my stomach lets out a roar.