Page 29 of Without Bound
His chin dips and he rumbles, “You managed to dress yourself. Not sure how you did it, but I stood on the other side of the door listening in case you fell.”
I bite my lip, slightly embarrassed that he had to stand watch in case I hurt myself. “I don’t really remember much of last night. Aside from drinking too much and then…that’s it.”
He reaches over and places his phone down on the leather ottoman his feet were resting on, then stands. My jaw drops because hot damn. He wears navy blue sleep pants that hang low on his hips,and a plain white t-shirt. The tattoos that paint his dark skin pop next to the bright cotton and no lie, I drool as I watch him standing there.
He moves around the couch and while I know I should do something other than stare, my mind is fresh out of giving a fuck. Let him see me gawking. It’s a woman's god given right to stare when a man that fine passes in front of you. In fact, it’s probably a crime against womanhood if Idon’tstare. And a man like Bishop deserves more than a passing glance.
“Let me get you some medicine. Would you like some water or juice? How about food? Are you feeling well enough to eat?” He walks into the open kitchen and reaches for a cabinet, grabbing a white bottle and popping the cap.
He pours out two pills in his palm and holds them out to me. “Water would be great. Thank you.”
He nods and spins around to the fridge, takes out a bottle of water and cracks the lid before handing it to me. I throw the pills into my mouth and wash them down with the water. A few droplets trickle from the corner of my lips and streams down my chin.
Bishop watches with undivided attention and I stick my tongue out to wipe the moisture on my lips.
He gives himself a visible shake of his head, then opens the fridge again. “I’ve got some fruit, eggs, bagels. I have pancake mix but I’m afraid it’s a protein mix and I don’t use syrup, so you may not like them.”
I nervously place one foot over the other and crack my knuckles. It’s a habit I’ve taken to recently as I approached finals, and it’s the only thing that seems to bring me a little calm when my head fills with chaos.
“Could I…do you mind if I have some fruit and maybe a fried egg? You know, to soak up the alcohol?”
“You know that you can’t really soak up the alcohol, right? You basically just need to replenish your body of what it lost last night. And that was a lot,” Bishop tells me, moving towards the refrigerator.
He pulls out a couple of brown eggs, a pint of blueberries and a…
“You keep your bananas in the fridge? That’s weird.”
He looks over his shoulder at me, a crooked smile on his lips, and I have to steady myself on the counter to keep me from fainting and splitting my head on his tile. What a wonderfully embarrassing moment that would be to add to my list of vomiting and fumbling to undress.
“I like them cold,” he says, and goes about cutting up the banana and washing the blueberries before plopping them in a bowl. “Here. Eat these while I make you an egg. The banana will help with the dehydration, and blueberries are good for inflammation. They fight off the ‘puffiness’ of drinking.”
“Thanks,” I whisper and take the fork he offers.
I get a couple of pieces in my mouth when I see him slide a glass of a murky, clear-ish liquid. When I look up at him with a puzzled look, he says, “Coconut water.”
“You got any coffee?” I ask.
“I do. But first, coconut water.” He turns his back to me once again, effectively ending that discussion.
I take a cautious sip of the coconut water, then immediately chug it down once my tastes buds approve. It quenches my parched, sore throat and gives me a little more clarity than I had just minutes ago.
The last blueberry is popped in my mouth when a plate with two fried eggs is set in front of me. “There is no way I can eat two of these,” I tell Bishop.
“You can and you will. You need the protein. I fried them in olive oil. Eat up,” he orders, and I just have to act like a brat and respond.
“Geez. Okay,dad. Bossy.”
His back stiffens and I see the vein in his neck bulge and pulse. I gulp down theoh shitthat is bubbling to the surface, because it’s obvious I upset this Hulk-like man. And by Hulk I mean one minute he seems sweet and unassuming, and the next he could rip a man’s head clear off his shoulders with his hands.
Bishop doesn’t respond to my outburst, and goes about cleaning up the dishes. I quietly eat my eggs as instructed and without furtherargument. The sound of the water running fills the kitchen and it gives me a few moments to gather my thoughts and bravery to ask what I need to.
“Hey Bishop,” I call out so he can hear me above the clanging of the dishes.
He shuts off the water, drying his hands on a towel and turning to face me. His massive arms cross over his chest and he leans back, resting against the counter.
I take a deep breath and ask, “Did anything…um, do you know if anythinghappenedlast night? While I was at the party?”
His nostrils flare and his eyes turn black. “If you have to ask a question like that, then you have no business drinking like you did. You put yourself in a dangerous situation, and you’re lucky one of my guys was there and knew to call me. Otherwise, who knows what would’ve happened. I don’t think your friends could’ve helped you out. Anais…I kicked open the fucking door.”
