Page 39 of Desperate Haste

She stands from the couch and steps around the coffee table to look at me. “Oh my god, you look so cute,” she nearly squeals. “I did a good job.”

“Don’t call me cute. I could take someone out with one punch if I needed to. I’m not cute. I’m hot, sexy, a walking wet dream,” I sneer jokingly as I push myself up from where I was sitting on the floor. She watches me walk over to the mirror hanging on the wall and take in her work. Two perfectly woven braids tie my normally shaggy hair out of my face. “Hmm, I am kinda cute.”

“Let me tie ribbons on the ends.” I look at where she’s standing next to the coffee table and almost pull my phone out to take a picture of her. Her normally tamed and polished hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and her standard power suits and heels have been replaced with miss-matched pajamas and slippers. The thing I notice most though is her smile. It’s big and wide and is the most genuine one I’ve seen from her and I want to capture it forever in a photo so I never forget what it looks like.

“Not a chance in hell, little fox.” I walk back towards her and close the gap between us.

“Come on,please. I’m sick and dying, and this will make me feel better,” she tries. My hands find her waist without trying and I pull her body into mine.

“I think you’re starting to milk this whole being sick thing,” I hum into her neck as I press my lips to it. Her arms reach up and loop around my neck, pulling me in even closer.

“I think this is my house and my sick day so you should give me what I want. You never know, this could be my dying wish, how would you feel if you denied that?”

“I’ll happily give you anything else, but there’s not a shot in hell that I’m letting you put ribbons in my hair. The braids are plenty already.” I nip at her neck and she leans into me even more. As my hands explore her back under her sleep shirt, she giggles softly as my fingers graze over a soft spot near her hips. “Does that tickle?”

“Kind of, yeah.” I can hear the smile on her lips. I’m about to repeat the motion with my fingers when a familiar voice comes from the other side of her front door.

“Ophie? Are you home?” Both of our heads turn on a swivel to look towards her front door. “It’s me, sweetie, me and Hank. We’re coming in so I hope you’re decent.”

The sound of a key being inserted into the lock causes Ophelia to move as if she had just been poked with a cattle prod. She flies across the living room and holds the front door closed with both hands.

“Sorry, B, now’s not a good time,” she shouts back through the door, turning the lock again from the inside.

“What? Ophie, please, we need a place to stay. A water line broke in our building so they had to turn the water off.”

“That really sucks, B, but it’sreallynot a good time.” She looks over her shoulder at me and her face is twisted up with nerves.

“Oph—Ophie, are you holding the door closed?” Bailey shrieks from the other side of the door and I hear it jiggle as she tries to pull it open again. “Look, I don’t care if you have a visitor, I used to live with you, remember? Please we just need a place to crash for the night.”

“Bailey, I love you, I’m so sorry that happened, but you’re going to have to figure something else out.”

There is a pause on the other side of the door before Bailey speaks again. “Okay…are you okay? You’re not in danger or anything, are you? Cause if you are Hank is here and?—”

“No, sweetie, I’m not in danger. I just can’t let you in right now is all.” When I laugh a little louder than intended at the thought of Hank storming in here to fightme, Ophelia turns around and shushes me.

“Alright, we’ll try Kolbi’s place then.” There is a pause on the other side and for a moment I think they’ve left before Bailey’s voice calls out again. “But wewillbe talking about this tomorrow, young lady.”

Ophelia presses her ear to the door and once she trusts that they’re gone, she lets out a sigh of relief and turns to face me.

“You could have let them in, you know?” I take a few steps to meet her again as she swipes some loose hair out of her face.

“No, I couldn’t because that would have led to questions I don’t want to have to answer right now. And you know Bailey, once she starts she doesn’t stop until she gets what she wants.” Once I’m close enough, she lays her head on my chest as I bring my arms to her sides.

“And what kinds of questions are you not wanting to answer?” I try, curious to know how she will respond.

“Questions about what we are or why you’re here taking care of me or whatever.” Her voice becomes quiet.

“Or whatever,” I repeat. “I see.”

“I don’t feel very good,” she groans and I drop my face to look at her. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her hand is now covering her mouth.

“Here, let’s go lie down, it’s late anyway.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, she holds me close with an arm tucked under mine as we walk into her bedroom. She pulls the hair tie out of her hair, releasing her dark brown locks so they cascade down her back, and climbs into bed. I pull the covers up for her and squat down so my face is level with hers. When my hand swipes her forehead to push some hair out of her face, I can feel the beginnings of a fever creeping in. Knowing what is probably coming next for her, I move the freshly lined trash can back to its place next to her bed just in case.

“Thanks for coming over and taking care of me,” she murmurs as her eyes soften. My thumb is starting to follow a rhythm as it paces back and forth along her cheek and it seems to soothe her.

“I’d do anything for you,” I say, meaning it with my whole heart. She might not be ready to admit we’re more than what we are, but I am. I’m ready to burn my entire playboy identity to the ground for her.

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