Chapter 11
923 Words
I hated needles.
I hated stitches.
I hated the entire situation.
I sat on the hospital bed staring at the supplies the nurse had laid out, trying not to panic. The last time I needed a shot, I convinced Cal to come with me. I had wrapped my hand around his and squeezed so hard he thought I was going to break something. I left an indentation in his skin and nearly gave him a bruise.
Now I was alone while they prepared to stick needles directly into the gash in my knee.
The nurse tried to inject the anesthetic, but every time the needle came near me, my leg jerked.
“Hold still,” she said.
“I’m trying.”
She tried again.
I flinched so hard my knee nearly came off the bed.
Finally, someone brought Titus into the room.
Great.
He looked good, even under the harsh hospital lights.
More importantly, he looked genuinely concerned about me.
“You’re still here?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He glanced at my knee. “Figured I’d see this through.”
The nurse sighed. “That’s proving difficult. If he would hold still, we might actually get somewhere.”
“I’m doing my best, okay?”
She seemed put out with me.
Titus immediately read the room.
The nurse was becoming aggravated, which meant she would probably start moving faster and handling me more roughly, even if she didn’t intend to. Then he saw the way I was staring at the needle.
He walked over and held out his hand.
I looked at it. “You may not want to do that.”
“Why?”
“I might leave an indentation in your hand. Maybe a bruise.”
He shrugged. “I’ll survive.”
I took his hand.
The nurse moved the needle toward my knee again, and I tightened my grip around his fingers.
Then the needle went in.
I hated the feeling. The sharp sting, followed by pressure beneath my skin, made every muscle in my body tense. I held Titus’s hand as tightly as I could while the nurse continued numbing the area.
Eventually, my knee went heavy and strange.
She began stitching the gash closed.
I could still feel what she was doing—the movement and pulling—but it no longer hurt.
When I finally loosened my grip, Titus pulled his hand back and shook it out.
“You’ve got a grip.”
“I’m sorry.”
He gave a small smile. “You say that a lot.”
I looked down.
Part of me wanted to laugh, but it hit too close to home.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m kidding.”
“I know. It was funny.”
“You didn’t laugh.”
“No. I didn’t.”
His smile faded. “Didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You didn’t. It’s just been a lot. I don’t really want to get into it, especially with a guy I just met.”
“We’ve crossed paths twice,” he said.
“Hung out?”
“Close enough.”
I looked at him.
“But I feel like that gives me the right to know a little more about you.”
“What is there to know?” I asked. “I’m a communications major here. As you can see, I’m overweight and clumsy. I’m friends with Cal Fowler, which you already knew. I don’t really have much of a life of my own.”
I shrugged.
“That’s about it.”
“I doubt that.”
“Why are you so interested in me?”
The question came out before I could stop it.
It sounded far more intimate than I intended. Even the nurse raised an eyebrow as she continued stitching my knee.
Titus didn’t seem embarrassed.
“You’re interesting.”
“No, I’m not.”
He studied me for a second. “Yeah, you are.”
“Well, thanks.”
A hint of a smile. “Wasn’t an insult.”
“It didn’t sound great.”
“I just mean… you don’t seem like someone who’s fine on their own.”
“So this is pity.”
He shook his head. “No.”
I looked at him.
“Okay.”
The nurse pulled another stitch through my skin. I tried not to watch.
“My life isn’t what I thought it would be,” I said. “That’s the easiest way to explain it.”
Titus remained quiet, waiting for me to continue.
“That’s why I was crying at the dock. I had an argument with someone I care about. Someone I thought cared about me.” I swallowed. “And I think I’ve wasted a lot of time.”
Titus’s expression changed.
“See?” I said. “Too deep.”
“The gash is pretty deep,” the nurse said.
I glared at her.
Titus huffed a quiet laugh.
“I asked,” he said. “Now I know a little.”
“It isn’t your job to help.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Didn’t say it was.”
“But I want to.”
“Titus, you don’t need to. Go play sand volleyball, live your life, and let dockside-crying Augie mourn in peace.”
He glanced at my knee. “You’d still be out there bleeding.”
I looked away.
“Let me care,” he added, softer.
I went quiet.
No one had ever said anything like that to me before.
- Writer
