Page 13 of Little Paper Games
“Where is wha…” he trailed off dumbly. Yeah, he probably knew exactly what I was talking about. Playing dumb wouldn’t work today. No Sir!
“The toilet paper. I know your parents had some delivered and, yet there’s none down here.” He stared at me
silently. His jaw was literally open. The fuck was wrong with him?
“Earth to Jude! Where. Is. The. Toilet. Paper?” I slowed my words, spelling them out and punctuating them emphatically. That seemed to shake him from whatever stroke he was having.
“Calm your fucking tits, Clarke.
It’s up in my living room. I just hadn’t brought it down yet,” he argued, his eyes shifting from wide and shocked to narrowed and frustrated.
“My tits are fine, thank you. The deal was to keep our stuff stockpiled down here. How is hoarding the paper sharing? Huh?” I pressed, lifting my leg to take one more step up onto the last stair step before him.
“Wait, Kenna, don’t!” he yelled,
but it was too late. My foot stepped on the stair. The broken stair I hadn’t noticed before. I felt my balance shift, and I started to fall backwards.
Shit.
Chapter 7
JUDE
Ibarely had a hold of her before she started to tumble down. She should have fallen straight down backwards, injury imminent, but I was able to grab hold of her wrist. Instead, she twisted funny and landed with a thud on the stairs. Her ankle moved funny, and I was sure that she’d fucked it up somehow. The groan of pain she let out made me feel better.
No, I didn’t just enjoy her pain.
If she had actually broken it or done really bad damage, she probably would have screamed. No, the groan was probably a good sign.
“Hey, hey, take it easy. Don’t move,” I ordered, stepping over the broken stair and making my way down beside her. I gave her a quick once over, trying my fucking damnedest to not focus on her barely clad form. She was wearing a black lace robe. Possibly black panties, and nothing else. I could easily see her nipples through the open spaces of the lacy fabric. I pulled my attention away from the sight again, focusing on her ankle.
“I’m fine,” she stated almost dejectedly.
“I’m serious, Kenna. Are you okay?” I asked sincerely. I really was worried about her. It was not a good time to need to go to a hospital. Not by a long shot.
“Yeah, I am. It smarts a little, but it’s not badly hurt. See?” She flexed her injured foot, rolling the ankle clear around with only minor winces. Good. It was likely a rolled ankle at most then. When I felt along her leg, I couldn’t feel any swelling and she didn’t respond to any overly tender spots.
“Let’s get some ice on it, yeah?” I offered her my hand, which, much to my surprise, she took. I had half a mind to pick her ass up and carry her, but I didn’t want to get beat to death by Kenna the Shrew in the process, no matter how scantily clad she was.
“I’ll just head over to my place,” she stated, as I helped her into my home.
“Shut up, McKenna. Let me get you some ice, and apparently some toilet paper,” I smarted off. I couldn’t help myself.
“Sorry about that. I just… You know…” she stammered, trailing off as she searched for words.
“I know what?” I pressed, wanting her to admit to the animosity we both shared for one another.
“Ugh, this is exhausting,” she finally relinquished, dropping down onto my sofa as we reached the living room.
“What is?” I asked again, still in the kitchen retrieving an ice pack for her.
“The fact that —” she stopped again.
“That…?” I urged.
“Holy hell, this place looks amazing!” she half whispered, half exclaimed. I won’t lie, my chest puffed up a bit at that. I like to keep a clean home and one worth bragging about. Even if it was my parents’ duplex.
“It’s exactly the same as yours, McKenna,” I chuckled. I knelt beside the sofa, placing the ice pack on her ankle. There still appeared to be no swelling.
