Page 89 of Cloudy With a Chance of Bad Decisions

Dangerous.

“George.” There was no room for argument in his tone. “What happened?” He squeezed my wrist. With long tanned fingers, he pulled my injured hand up so I could see the blobby little burn bumps. I shrunk back. Alex gave my wrist a reassuring squeeze. “When you sat on the boulder you made a sound.Thisis why,” he rightfully deduced. Like the whole reason he’d been hunting my body was because he’d heard that tiny fucking noise and couldn’t leave it be.

“I burned myself.”

“When?”

“This morning?” I tried to pull my wrist back but he didn’t let me. I felt like a naughty kid. “When I was helping with breakfast. It was just hot cocoa. Nothing to worry about.”

“Why didn’t you treat the burns?” Alex’s eyes were stormy.

My toes curled in my soggy tennis shoes as I shook my head. My cock, of course, decided now was a great time to twitch despite the cold. I glanced away, horrified. A grasshopper buzzed by, and I jumped.

“Why?” Alex questioned.

I squirmed.

A new kind of shame bubbled up inside me. Shame that I hadn’t taken care of myself. Shame that I’d been more concerned about what people thought of me than my own health. Shame that I had a first-aid kit and hadn’t used it, simply because I was worried the bandages would attract too much attention.

Once again, when I tried to snatch my wrist away, Alex held tight. His free hand rose to cradle my face. He tipped it gently toward him until I had no choice but to meet his gaze. The storm in his eyes had softened. And beneath that, all I could see was genuine worry.

Again, I didn’t know what to do with that.

It made me feel small and large at the same time.

“I…didn’t…” I stalled, unsure what I was trying to say. Surely I wasn’t about to admit the truth?

“You didn’t,what,George?” God, even now he sounded gentle, despite the edge in his voice. George. Not Georgie. That’s how I knew this was serious.

The truth spilled free before I could stop it.

“The bandages are too noticeable. I didn’t want to be ‘fussy George’ again. I wanted to slip under the radar. I wanted to be…normal. To…to fit in. I didn’t want to be seen as high-maintenance.”

“Fussy George?” he trailed off, processing my words. Even though he’d just been repeating me, hearing the old nickname on his tongue made me flinch. I knew Alex didn’tmeananything by it—but fuck. I’d heard that term so many times from Brendon that it physically hurt to hear it out loud again. Like a knife had sliced directly into my heart.

Clearly I’d outwardly reacted because Alex’s softened. “You don’t like that,” he stated, his thumb rubbing a soothing circle across my cheekbone. “That name upsets you.”

I bobbed my head in agreement. “Brendon used to—It…it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay.” Alex exhaled sharply. He debated with himself before he gave my cheek one last swipe with the pad of his thumb and released me. “I won’t make a big deal about the burn, but I want you to let me treat it when we get back to camp. I understand why you did what you did—but I’m not going to allow you to remain in pain. I’m not Brendon—yourhealthis what matters to me. Besides, anyone who thinks you’re ‘high-maintenance’ because you got hurt is a fucking asshole. If someone bothers you I’ll take care of it. All you have to do is say the word.”

I melted a little, warm despite my chilly clothing.

He was right.

Of course he was right.

“We can use the first-aid kit in my backpack,” I whispered. “I’ll let you help.”

“Good,” Alex softened. “No complaining, George. I mean it.”

I nodded again, echoing him, “No complaining.”

“Good boy.” The praise warmed me from head to toe. Alex ruffled my hair, messing it up even more than it already was. I scowled at him, but his sunny smile was impossible to resist. Especially when he called megood boylike that. Still though, I reached up to smooth my hair down with my uninjured hand, attempting to fix the rats nest on my head.

When I was done, Alex tugged me to my feet. I stood there awkwardly, dripping. When he turned his back to me, bent over, and patted his shoulders expectantly it took me a second to figure out what he wanted.

“My fingers are burned, I didn’t break my leg. I don’t need you to carry me,” I huffed. Now that we were no longer within make-out distance my mind had already wandered back to snakes and other creepy crawlies. I was a bit jumpy after the creek—but I felt like that was justified, all things considered.

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