Ruin (15 page)

So I dial his number and anxiously press the button, biting my nails as the phone rings.

“Alexander Wright.”

“Hey, it’s Maybell,” I answer, a little nervous.

“Hey, May. How are you? You’re home now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I finally got discharged today. So sad you couldn’t be there.”

It takes him a few seconds to respond. “Yeah, I had to help my dad with something.” He clears his throat. “Um, what’s up?” The conversation feels tense.

It can’t have been the kiss, right? He was the one who initiated it. Or does he regret it now? I hope not.

“I just wanted to ask if you’d like to come over to … I don’t know, play games or something.” I muffle a laugh, but it’s more from embarrassment than joy.

“Oh, uh … sure, I guess?” I can almost feel his reluctance through the phone.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to. I understand,” I quickly add. “I mean you must be very busy.”

“No, no. I’d love to come,” he says, taking in a gulp of air. “I’ll be at your place in thirty.”

I tell him my address and then we hang up the phone without even saying anything sweet, like kisses, or hugs, or I-love-yous.

That’s what normal couples do, right? Are we even a couple? I don’t know.

I’ve only had a boyfriend once, and that wasn’t really … anything at all. We only kissed one time, and it was because his friends apparently dared him to pretend to have a relationship with me for a week. So basically, I was conned into a fake relationship by a shitty boyfriend who wasn’t a boyfriend at all.

This concludes the fact that I literally know nothing about boyfriends. Or boys, for that matter.

Apart from Alexander, of course.

I know him better than I even know my own dad.

He likes to draw houses and wants to become an architect. I know he likes to eat steak and hates red vegetables. He enjoys the rain and doesn’t like the heat. He pushes himself to his limit but gives up easily if he’s discouraged. His parents were poor, and his dad went into cardiac arrest, which made Alex drop out of school. He loves gaming more than anything because of the escape. He sweats when he’s nervous, and he has the cutest smile.

I try to clean up the house in a hurry, which takes me much longer than I thought, but I hadn’t put much thought into how I was going to transport a bag of chips and two glasses of Coke to the table. So when the doorbell rings, I am not prepared.

I look like a mess. I’m still wearing the same dress as I was in the hospital, minus the ID bracelet around my wrist, of course. God, I’m so glad I’m rid of that itchy thing.

I hurry to the door as fast as I can on my crutches, saying, “Coming!” because I can’t go any faster.

His broad smile meets me when I open the door, and it makes all my worries disappear.

“Hi,” I say.

He walks in and greets me then he leans in to hug me. He holds me tight, almost squeezing me, but then leaning back again without kissing me. I thought he would. I was kind of hoping he would. Damn.

“Welcome to my … humble home!” I say, laughing a little as I show him around.

“It’s lovely. I didn’t know you lived by yourself.”

“Yeah, I moved out as fast as I could,” I say, clearing my throat. “I just like being on my own.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” He looks around my bathroom and kitchen. “Very nice.”

“Could you help—” I point at the glasses. “Sorry, I wanted to put it all on the table before you got here, but I can’t.” I dangle the crutches above my head.

“Sure, no problem.” He grabs the glasses and bag of chips.

“You sure?” I ask, following him back into the living room.

“Yeah, happy to help.”

“Just like in the hospital,” I muse.

“Mmmhmm …” He turns his head to me after placing everything down. “But this time we’re alone.”

I blush from that word, which is silly because it’s just a word. But still.

Alone … with him.

“So … what’d you have in mind?”

I look around and bite the inside of my cheek again. “How about a movie? Or should we turn on the PlayStation?”

“Both are fun,” he says, sitting down on the couch. He pats the space next to him. “Come sit down with me.”

I hesitate for a second, not having felt such feelings before. I don’t even know what I’d do if he touched me in a different, more intimate way. Then again, he probably won’t, since he hasn’t kissed me either.

I overcome my fear and sit down beside him, taking it slow so I don’t hurt myself, and place the crutches beside the couch. He grabs a pillow, which I tuck under my leg. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He laughs. “Although I thought you’d want it for your back, this is fine too.”

I nod. “Yeah, my knee hurts because I do too much, and it makes my leg swell up.” I let out a groan. “I just wish I could walk again.”

“Patience, young Padawan.”

I laugh and slap him with one of my other pillows. “Lame.”

“Well, you’d better not start walking yet, young lady.”

“Or else?” I raise a brow.

He narrows his eyes. “Someone’s feeling sassy.”

“Can you blame me?” I point at my knee. “Look at that scar. Look at all that bloated skin. I’m like a whale on dry land.”

“Don’t say that. You’re beautiful.”

Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I’m momentarily baffled. “Well … you … ugh.” I drop my head back on the couch. “How am I supposed to respond to that?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Hmm …” I close my eyes for a second. “I hope I can get through this. I have a long way to go until I can properly walk again.”

“Take it slow. Your body needs to rest. It needs to heal. Besides, knowing you, you’ll be on your feet in no time.”

“I know. I just hate being couch-bound. There’s nothing I love more than my freedom.”

“Well, you’ve got me to serve you. Doesn’t that count?” A mischievous grin forms on his lips.

“Alex …” I groan again, wanting to slap him with the pillow once more. “I meant that it’s just hard to come to terms with the fact that this is going to be a long-term disability.” I blow out a long, drawn-out breath. “I may never be the same person again.”

He grabs my shoulder and forces me to look at him. “Hey. You are always going to be the same person. An injury does not define who you are. This”—he points at my leg—“does not define you. There’s so much more to your life than just your leg. You know that.”

I frown. “What about dancing?”

“Screw dancing for now. Maybe, you’ll do it again one day. Maybe, you won’t be as good, but you’ll do it. But you can do more. Look at your writing. Look at your love for games. Look at your creativity. You’ve got more to offer than just that damn leg.”

“Hmmm … I hope so.”

He looks at me from underneath his thick lashes. “I know so. I’ve seen it. I see you … for who you are.”

I smile at his sweet words. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He clears his throat.

“You always know just what to say, don’t you?” I quip.

“No. Just with you,” he replies, sticking out his tongue and making me roll my eyes. “How’s the pain? Is it manageable?”

“Sort of. I’m only on diclofenac and Tylenol now. I’m not allowed to take any more than that regarding painkillers. But I have to stop using the diclofenac soon, and I’m not looking forward to it.”

“And how does it feel with the metal inside? Does it feel odd?” he asks. “Just curious.”

“It feels like it weighs a ton and I could clobber people with it.”

My comment makes him muffle a laugh. “You make it sound ridiculous.”

“That’s because it is ridiculous. Metal’s supposed to be strong, but my leg is weak like rubber. Case in point, I’m not even able to swipe away a cloth with my foot.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well, look …” I grab one of the towels beside me and place it on the floor. Then I let my leg slide down and place my foot on top. “I’m supposed to do this every day according to the doctor, to get some muscle control back.” I slide my foot forward, and the cloth barely moves. “See? It’s ridiculous.”

“Nah, it’s fine. You’ll be able to do it in no time. I’m sure.”

“I can’t straighten my leg, either. I don’t think it’s going to be like how my leg was before the accident,” I say, rubbing my leg.

He swallows. “Well … maybe it’ll be better further ahead. For now, you’re still recovering, and it’s going great.” He clears his throat. “So when are you going to start with the physiotherapy again?” he asks, probably trying to change the subject.

“Someone’s coming to visit this week,” I answer. “Probably to do some light exercises and movement like bending and stretching my leg. Can’t do much anyway until I’m allowed to put weight on it again. But … at least I have lots of extra time that I can spend with you now.” I put up the sweetest smile I can muster, and it makes him chuckle.

“And I will be here as often as you want me to be,” he assures me, grabbing my hand.

I pout my lips. “Every day?”

“If you want me to, I’ll be here every day.” He squeezes my hand.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” I shake my head, letting out a breath. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to do anything for love.”

“Love …” I look at him, wondering what he means. “Is that what this is?”

His lips part, but he doesn’t say a word. For a few seconds, all he does is stare at me with these chocolate eyes that make me want to melt into a puddle.

Then he pulls my hand close … to his lips … and presses a soft kiss on the top of my palm. The gesture says more than any words could.

“And there’s more where that came from.” He winks. “Now … let’s go play some games, shall we?”

Alexander

Every day, I drop by to watch over her and help her, and today is no different.

However, the more I’m around her, the harder it becomes to leave.

She makes me feel alive. Gives me a purpose where I had none.

Because of her, I feel like I can take on the world again.

I don’t know why I keep staring at her, but I do. I stare at her concentrated face as she smears her bread with a bit of butter, making sure it’s spread equally across the entire surface. Then she places two slices of ham on top in a specific place, the same way she always does it.

She has these peculiar quirks that make her do things a certain way, always.

To her, there is no if, no but; it must be done that way.

That’s what fascinates me so much. Every little detail must be perfect to her, even though they might not make much sense to someone else. Like the way she meticulously aligns all the forks and knives in the drawer, or how she always has to put her brush straight on her nightstand. Or how she always knows exactly where her wallet or Gameboy is because she has specific spots for all her belongings, even though it doesn’t make any sense to me. Or how she puts on her socks—always pulling them up as far as she can and then pulling back the tips of her toes again so the seam doesn’t touch her feet.

It makes me laugh a little, watching her fiddle.

Watching her be her.

It’s cute.

Other people would say it’s a hassle, but I like this about her.

She never fails to surprise me and make me curious.

Except … that’s exactly the problem with me. I shouldn’t be curious; I shouldn’t get so attached.

Sooner or later, this will all come to an end.

I should’ve stopped visiting. The moment she left the hospital, I told myself I wouldn’t come to her place. That I’d leave her in peace. She needs the rest. What she doesn’t need is a boy messing with her heart.

But I can’t help myself, either.

The longer I stay, the harder it becomes to resist that voice in my head that begs for her to become mine.

After she finishes eating her breakfast, I clean up her plate and help her back to the couch. But she keeps looking at me with these deviant eyes, beckoning me with her fingers.

“Come here,” she says.

“Why? If you need something, I can grab it. You just have to ask.”

“No …” She grins. “I want you.”

My spine tingles with excitement at the sound of those words.

I go over to her and bend over in front of her. “You want me how?”

She leans in and pouts her lips, her eyes half-mast and seductive. When I feel her breath on my skin, my eyes fall closed. One kiss—that’s all it takes to get me hard again. Damn.

She smiles as her lips separate from mine again, and she bites her lip. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.”

“I have the same problem,” I muse, trying to mentally will my dick down, but it’s not working.

“I did actually want to ask you something …”

“Don’t tell me that kiss was a way to get me to be your slave.” I raise a brow. “Because I already am.”

She laughs, and a tiny snort follows, and I love the sound. “No, silly. I like you. But …” She takes a deep breath. “Will you help me shower?”

My eyes widen. I don’t really know how to respond. “Shower? As in naked?”

“Yeah … do you shower with clothes on?” she jokes.

“No, but then …”

“I can cover myself up,” she adds. “With a towel.”