Page 8 of Hearts Etched in Glass
For a moment, I nearly forgot my parents exist.
Chapter 4: Tilly
Death Wish,Royale Lynn & Danny Worsnop
Trudging home after a grueling shift, I clutch the bag that holds my uniform adorned in vomit. The washing machines are broken within the hospital, so I couldn’t throw it in with the bedding. I figured I could just wash it once I got home, but as I round a street, I take notice of a shadow following me. My home isn’t far from the hospital, though it gives me a fright that I’ve become a target once again. This time will be different for I will make sure they regret placing me in their sights.
Bobby has been extremely busy, as he and Kenneth have taken over more responsibilities within the family business and unfortunately it has not been smooth.
I briskly turn the corner into an alleyway and await my attacker, hearing his footsteps coming closer, and closer. The heels clicking onto the cobblestone streets, my heart rate picks up, then my nostrils flare. As my palms begin to sweat, I get ready to rear back my arm and deliver a blow. The presence comes from behind the street sign, and I slam my vile smelling uniform at the asshole. The bag breaks open, causing the uniform to slide down the front of his three-piece suit. But before I can recognize who the individual is, it is far too late.
And I’ve kneed Marcus in the groin.
My hands fly to my face in horror as I shout his name. Then Biscuit comes waddling from around the corner, holding his belly, trying to maintain his breath, witnessing the moronic event. “Jesus Til! We was only trying to catch up to ya!” Then Biscuit leans forward, his hands finding purchase on his knees as his panting turns into bellowing laughter.
Marcus is on his knees, his usual slicked back hair now disheveled and hanging in front of his forehead. Heholds his groin as his handsome face is scrunched up in agony. “Marcus, I am so sorry, you should have shouted. Darling, I’m so sorry!”
A small voice cracks from his lips as he musters up words: “We. Tried.” He huffs with each breath. Biscuit regains his composure and sits upright, his hands straightening out his suit jacket. “Tilly, you walk too bloody fast. We couldn’t keep up and we tried calling ya name but our words couldn’t keep up with ya neither.” Then Biscuit looks back down at Marcus and bursts into more laughter. “Kicked in the groin and shit thrown at you!” Biscuit barks.
“It’s spew,” I mutter, which causes Biscuit to laugh even harder, to the point he chokes between words. “I can’t wait to tell Bobby.”
I roll my eyes and reach out to help Marcus up from the hard ground. He stands, trying to steady himself, wincing at the pain. Then he scrunches his nose at the stench.
“Bobby wants us watching you since he can’t be around 24/7,” Marcus says but it holds a solemn undertone with it.
“Understandable. My home is over there; we can get you cleaned up. I have some of Bobby’s clothing and I think they will fit you darling.” He nods his head in agreement, then we head in that direction.
Biscuit stays outside on patrol as Marcus follows me up the stairs to take a shower. My bathroom is very extravagant. I may thank my dear Bobby for that. The counter tops are granite, with turquoise tiles covering the floor. The walls are a light blue, painted with bright pink petunias and poppies.
As I grab Marcus some extra clothing and return to the washroom, my feet are glued in my tracks. Marcus is standing stark ass naked, and though I have seen many nude individuals as a nurse, it is hard to look away from his form.
I follow the path of corded muscles from his forearm up to his olive toned shoulders and 5 o'clock shadow. I notice some small bruises peppered across his back and wonder what gang activity he got those from. He stretches his arms over his head and every single muscle delectably tenses with the movement. Hell, even his ass cheeks tense, alongside his tan calves and into — . My thoughts are cut off as he turns towards me, and I freezefrom being caught in my gawking state. Our eyes lock as we hang suspended in this scenario. I feel like a fox, caught in a trap.
What do I do? How do I not make this awkward?
I’ve seen many naked humans, why am I freaking out right now?
Probably because I am objectifying my fiancé’s best mate.
Jesus, I’m a fucking harlot.
Then Marcus moves. His strides confident and calm as he comes closer, gently taking the towels and clothing from my grasp.
“Thank you, Tilly, I am so sorry you saw me like this.” He tries to take the items from me, but my lips begin to move of their own awkward accord.
“You are a naughty, naughty boy Marcus. Don’t do that again.” I playfully shake my head at him, and I have no idea where or why I thought that statement was a great idea. But I do notice Marcus’s cheeks heat at my words and his throat bobs, as he nervously swallows.
Oh?
I can’t help it, but my curiosity gets better of my judgment. I turn my head to assess his manly appendage, andmy fleeting theory was correct. He is slightly aroused by some scolding. Peering up at his face, I notice his lips are pursed and his normal olive complexion is now completely red.
“What do you want me to do now?” He questions with such a heady tone it makes something in my core tighten. In surprise I shove the clothes at him and shout, “Take a fucking bath!”
His head turns back to look at me in confusion. “Do you want me to take a bath, or a shower? The shower head is running.” I push Marcus’s large form back into the washroom.
“Take whatever you like dear, sorry! Just get washed,” I shout, then panic as I slam the door in his face.
Oh my God I am a terrible fiancé.
